Kayak Fishing the Penobscot River for Smallmouth Bass

I’ve fished in a lot of states, but up until the summer of 2022, Maine wasn’t one of them. There was no particular reason for this, I just hadn’t gotten there yet, but it wasn’t for lack of want. When I was the fishing editor at Field & Stream, working in their Manhattan office, I’d leaf through the archives going back decades, captivated by the words of some of the best fishing writers in history, penning pieces about Maine’s brook trout, salmon, and striped bass. Legendary fishing editor A.J. McClane would travel to Maine just to spend a week targeting chain pickerel, a species I hold near and dear. But of all the fish Maine has to offer, I never thought it would be smallmouth bass that finally got me here.

Smallmouths are equally near and dear to my heart, especially the ones that live in moving water. No offense, lake guys. I mean I’ve caught my share of Huron and Erie bass and loved every minute of it, but I’ve spent more time on the road in pursuit of moving water fish. There are many reasons for this, not the least of which is that I’m just better at reading rivers than lakes, but in the summertime, river smallies do something that still-water fish just don’t do as consistently—they look up. They behave more like trout, keying in on terrestrial insects, mayflies, and dragonflies. I’ve chased that topwater action to Wisconsin, West Virginia, Arkansas, Western Pennsylvania…I could go on. But when my buddy Ryan Lilly at Old Town found out I was a popper-sipping smaw jaw addict, he said oh man, you need to get your butt to the Penobscot River. 

Full disclosure: I’ve not historically been much of a kayak angler. My experience up until just the past few years when I got my own Old Town boat had been limited to yak’s borrowed from buddies, often with questionable stability, so having the chance to fish the Penobscot on Old Town’s AutoPilot 120 was intriguing. Let’s just say it’s…well…if I’m being honest, it flirts with cheating. Coming from someone that’s used to rowing drift boats and hauling anchors, the ability to push a button and have Spot Lock kick in and hold—even in areas with decent flow—takes river fishing to another level. It was also useful because I quickly learned that on the Penobscot, you could stay in one place, fire a popper in any direction, and a bass would find it. 

Now, listen, I understand that you can’t judge a fishery based on just one day of fishing, but first impressions are important. And my first impression was that the number of bass in the Penobscot was staggering, and things that would have smallmouths elsewhere tweaked and wary—like bright sun and clear water—didn’t seem to matter here. For the first half of the day, I never wavered from a simple white popper or white Zoom fluke. I didn’t need to. Every fish in the river seemed to agree that if it’s white, it dies. 

I couldn’t have asked for more from the Penobscot, but it wasn’t done giving. Part of why I’m so attracted to moving water is that even on the slow days, there’s fresh opportunity and renewed hope around the next bend. There’s a new hole, a new logjam, a new eddy to hit. And sometimes, even when the scenery doesn’t change, the fish around that next bend are completely different from the ones around the last.

Late in the day, as though a switch had been thrown, I started to see fish dimpling the surface. These were no longer the crushing blows of bronzebacks attacking baitfish, but the subtle sips of bug eaters I love so much. I picked up my fly rod and tied on a small black popper. For the final hour of our float, we were treated to some of the best smallmouth fly fishing I’d experienced in several years. 

The day started with aggressive hammering of poppers and soft plastics. It ended with delicate presentations—a gentle wiggle just to make the rubber legs flex—and big bass taking down flies with the daintiness of a bluegill. This is why I love smallmouths—at times they’ll hit anything that moves, and at others they can be extremely challenging, requiring exactly the right skills and tools for the job. From watercraft to a stash of flies I almost didn’t bring, we had all the right tools. Without them, I may not have experienced the Penobscot in such a complete way. I’m convinced this is one of the greatest smallmouth rivers in the country, and man, I can’t wait to get back to Maine.