I’ll be the first to admit that walleye are not tops on my list. Walleye have been incidental catches while fishing for big bronze. Smallmouth and walleye inhabit the same waters over much of their range. Several tactics tempt both species. Here’s one reservoir smallmouth tactic that works wonders for fooling winter walleye.
The first few walleye that came to my net while vertical jigging a ¾ ounce glowing blade bait on vertical rock structure near a creek channel surprised me. The reaction from other bass-centric reservoir anglers when they viewed the photos told of an under the radar fishery. “You caught that here? In this lake? Are you sure? I didn’t know that there were any walleye in here!” were common responses.
The Department of Natural Resources electro-shocking surveys for the reservoir were listed as “common” in a recent five year period for Sander vitreum, aka Walleye. Yet few anglers knew that they even existed.
The answer lied in how deep most anglers were fishing. On days when the walleye bite was best, cold, dreary, often rainy or snowy days, the smallmouth bite was poor. Adverse conditions forced me to target deeper water than normal.
I’ve caught plenty of largemouth and smallmouth from the 50 foot range, but they were usually smaller than average. Most big bass prefer to hold near vertical rock structure somewhere between 20 and 35 feet during the winter. While searching outside of this range, other species such as white perch, crappie, and the deep predator that feeds on them, walleye, began eating my blade bait.
With high hopes for a big brown bass, I soon realized I hooked into my first six-plus pound walleye. My kayak was positioned within a half cast from the shore. The depth finder’s automatic depth range flipped back and forth rapidly as the sonar cone received simultaneous signals from depths of 64 feet, 44 feet, 32 feet, and 21 feet. Trying to make sense of it made me dizzy! After I changed the depth range from “auto” to 100 feet, each shelf showed up as a solid line with grey areas in between. Although my kayak was motionless, the depth reading continued skipping rapidly from 44 feet to somewhere in the low 60’s.
Watching as the braided line stop abruptly, I began a cadence of short lifts and drops. With a heavy blade bait and no stretch line, the repetitive smashing of the blade bait against the rock was clearly felt by the tip of my rod, despite the muting effect of having let out so much line.
Following the lure down, my rod tip lowered to the surface. But this time it did not clank. Hook-sets are free. I tightened my grip on the rod and gave it a hard sweep. The rod bent deeply as I thought for a moment that the lure was wedged under the crease of an overhanging ledge.
Then the intense throb of a long bodied fish turning its head flooded my torso with an elated feeling that only a big fish can bring. I felt the line twang across a shelf of rock.
Earlier I had zig-zagged my kayak across the area with my eyes locked on the depth finders monitor. Marker buoys were dropped along the top edge where the creek channel slamed into the submerged 40-foot vertical wall of rock. This visualization allowed me to recognize I had to turn my kayak away from the jagged series of rocky shelves that could sever my line.
The
hefty fish pulled the tip of my rod under three times during the fight. As it
ascended, I had my doubts that it was a big smallmouth. The quality of the
fight was different. The power of the fish was not in question, for even prior
to seeing the triangular white tips of the pectoral fins, I was aware this was
something interesting.
During past outings that same structure had produced several big smallmouth. The difference this time was the depth. This specific location attracts large schools of white perch year round. Envision a house where smallmouth inhabit its first floor, largemouth and bluegill live on the second floor, and walleye abide in the basement. White perch rise and fall throughout all floors, depending on light
penetration, wind, and the location of the plankton on which they feed.
A similar location which has produced sizeable walleye is bridge pilings near the creek channel. The main difference in this structure is the presence of crappie rather than white perch. It is unclear why different food sources might gravitate to certain types of structure. The creek channel, the vertical rock structure, and the depth range of 40 to 60 feet are all the same.
Do-It makes molds for the “vibrating lure” that have cavities for pouring blade baits from ¼ to ¾ ounces. I only use the heaviest one available. When I was new to blade baiting, I compared several different weights and settled on the heaviest, preferring the feel of the heavier lure crashing against cover or the bottom, regardless of depth.
At first, I decorated them as I had seen them in tackle shops. Prism scale tape made a nice baitfish flash when I fished them relatively shallow. But I sought to make them stand out beyond where light would penetrate. Glow tape made that possible. Glowing powder paint for the lead portion of the lure finishes off the glowing profile. After a few casts I charge the lure with a flashlight and a smudge of smelly jelly. Materials for making or modifying blade baits can be found in tackle-making catalogs such as Barlow’s tackle or Jann’s Netcraft.
Assuming
that losing lures was common, having the mold and making the lures made them
expendable. Snags are more prevalent when blade baits are casted outward, and
although break-offs were more common at first, I quickly learned that short
underhanded lobs followed by letting the line release from the spool positioned
the lure almost directly underneath the boat. For this reason, I am careful
about making any boat noise. Here’s a sure method for saving vertically-snagged
lures. When lures hang up, simply reach a hand down and grab the line, then
jiggle it free.
When vertical jigging blades, I
prefer a cadence that consists of lifts and “follow it back down” drops of
six-inches or less. The moment the lure thuds against the bottom, lift it
again. Jigging the lure more than six inches when fishing vertical rock
structure prevents it from being in one spot for very long. Pounding one
sweet spot is like an alarm clock buzzing in their faces. Maintain the
irritating sound long enough, they will eventually slap at the snooze bar. And
chances are when they finally snap at it, you are either already setting the
hook with another lift or are about to do so. Having experimented with various
rod, reel, and line set ups, my favorite blade bait rod is custom-made from a
St. Croix Legend Tournament 
blank.
It’s a medium heavy power fast action seven-foot long baitcaster. Unlike using a
spinning reel, a baitcaster allows the blade to fall from one shelf to a deeper
one without flipping a bail. Spinning reels are fine for anglers comfortable
with back reeling. Fifteen pound braid is preferred with a 12 pound
fluorocarbon leader five feet in length.
Blade baits don’t discriminate. During the winter, they are productive for many species. Bounce the blade into the second floor of the vertical rock house and a largemouth may just pounce upon it. If it unexpectedly drops in on the occupants of the first floor, a feisty smallmouth may snap up the metal lure. Let it descend to the basement, and walleye are the dinner guests. With patience being the key, allow them time for locating the blade bait that makes the repetitive and irritating sound. Dinner is served.
Jeff Little teaches kayak fishing skills on Mid Atlantic rivers and reservoirs. His weekly trip reports can be found at;