Rivers like New York’s St. Lawrence, the White flowing through Arkansas and Missouri, Montana’s Gallatin, and the mighty Mississippi cutting through the center of the U.S. all draw anglers from across the country with the promise of big fish. But for every well-known river, there are dozens you’ve never heard of that criss-cross the country with little fanfare.
Unlike those big-name rivers, and countless lesser known waterways that have led writers to put ink to paper, you’re not likely to read about these waters outside the sports section of the local crier. And in that lies their charm. These no-name rivers flow unceremoniously behind Main Street, just waiting to be explored by children on their bikes, rods clutched in their hands as they grip the handle bars.
They lazily wend through the ag fields, with hungry fish waiting for the ‘hoppers to be blown into the deep water at each bend. They hide in the woods, just begging to be explored by those that care enough to find them. They peek out just beyond the school bus turnaround, taunting children to skip school in favor of something a bit more fun.
They might not offer the big fish of their more famous brethren, but they can provide recreation without crowds in its place. I can step over some of my favorite creeks without getting my toes wet, and the brookies that come out of them are just as small. But I can spend an afternoon outwitting these 6-inch trout without seeing another soul. And if I’m lucky, a Fisher cat will wander out of the woods and stroll calmly beside me like the one that did on that early morning one July years ago.
Because they are often overlooked, some of these streams can hold an abundance of fish. And absent fishing pressure, they can produce great numbers of fish for anglers. There’s a river I like to float with a buddy a couple of times a year that usually results in a triple-digit day. We’ve often fished right through lunch, bent rods distracting us from food. And perhaps best of all, we can fish for 10 hours and never see another angler.
Nearly every weekend from May through September, I throw my son in my truck with a load of camping gear, a canoe, and a handful of rods. We explore the rivers, streams, and creeks within a few hours drive of our house. Even in places we’ve visited many times, we always find something new. There’s always a neat creature hiding under a rock, or a cool bird to check out.
We eat pizza sandwiches cooked in a pie iron under a setting sun and laugh about the day. We go to bed with hints of melted chocolate and marshmallow in the corner of our mouths, as the river sings us to sleep.
There’s a tiny burg I like to visit with my family in the warmer months. We cast our lines in the town pool, pulling headstrong smallies from the current before taking a dip. We chase frogs and catch crayfish. We watch the kingfishers perform their acrobatics before catching fish of their own. We listen to the chorus of songbirds, and the symphony of the crickets. After we’ve had our fill, we go to the local ice cream parlor. We eat soft serve too fast, and get ice cream headaches. These are the carefree days we think about in the dead of winter.
Though they might not house enough outsized fish to draw crowds, these relatively unknown rivers reward those that take the time to learn their secrets. I can pull a 5-pound smalllie out of one of the streams I frequent on nearly every visit, though you would never guess it from looking at it. It wasn’t always like that, though. It took a lot of canoe strokes and shoe leather to find the holes that hold those smallies. And now, as if I have paid some sort of cosmic toll by spending enough time listening to the current lap at the rocks, the river lets me in on her hidden bounty.
Though they get outshined by their more famous brethren, these no-name rivers deserve a second look. They probably won’t have the giant trout that inhabit Idaho’s Henry’s Fork, the volume of smallies in Oregon’s Umpqua, the mixed bag provided by Maine’s Penobscot or the variety in Georgia’s Chattooga, but they offer so much more.
