Elkhorn Creek is arguably the best, or most productive, smallmouth bass stream in the Commonwealth, which is quite a claim considering that two-thirds of the state is laced with many fine smallmouth-holding creeks, streams, rivers and other waters. Quantifying any fishing water as “best” will spark endless debate among anglers. Regardless, Elkhorn Creek is certainly Kentucky’s best-known smallmouth water.
Still, the creek is a mystery to many anglers. It is as popular with recreational paddlers as with fishermen. It can be fished effectively and efficiently by canoe, kayak or on foot, although the stream flows through mostly private property, and public access is limited.
I recently spent an afternoon wade fishing the Elkhorn with a couple of friends and expert anglers, Lee McClellan and Alan Clemons. I don’t fish the Elkhorn often, and it showed.
McClellan probably knows the creek as well as anyone. A self-described “smallmouth fanatic,” he’s waded and floated the creek for more than two decades. Part of this chore has been work related. McClellan is an information officer, writer and editor for the Kentucky Department of Fish and Wildlife Resources. But he also occasionally serves as an unofficial guide for friends, colleagues and others and is generous with his hard-earned creek knowledge.
Clemons is an experienced bass man from Alabama who can generally catch fish if he gets close to them, but he had not set foot in the Elkhorn before we sloshed into the creek off the State Route 1900 access.
The Elkhorn is loaded with fish, and for many years, the state wildlife agency has imposed a 12-to-16-inch slot limit on the Elkhorn for smallmouth and largemouth bass. Bass between 12 and 16 inches must be released. Although most angling action on the Elkhorn is voluntary catch and release, fishermen are permitted to keep up to six bass outside the slot, including one smallmouth and one largemouth over 16 inches.
Smallmouth bass are the marquee species and the one most anglers target, but in addition to largemouth bass, rock bass, carp, crappie and bluegill swim here, too. And catfish are surprisingly plentiful.
We accessed the creek from a Voluntary Public Access (VPA) opening off the highway. The VPA was a federally funded program through which private landowners allowed public access in exchange for a small fee. State wildlife enforcement personnel also monitored VPA sites. The program was suspended a few years ago when federal funding dried up. But according to McClellan, a few gracious landowners have continued to allow access at their sites.
We worked our way downstream through a long, placid pool, then hiked across a neck that forms one of the creek’s countless bends and emerged at a riffle McClellan had targeted. The water slid over the smooth-but-cracked stone riverbed, then tumbled across softball-size stones, dropped over a slight break in the bedrock, and settled into a quiet pool. A hundred yards or so downstream, the process repeated. McClellan’s strategy was to move about a mile downstream, then fish our way back. That plan was abandoned when the first riffle was too promising to pass.
The creek was low and clear; the afternoon hot and sunny—not the most promising fishing conditions. McClellan and I were armed with fly rods. Clemons wielded a baitcaster and soon brought a spunky, 10-inch smallmouth to hand. McClellan almost immediately matched that feat by methodically working the tail-out pool below the first riffle with a 7-weight St. Croix Mojo. These are specialty, fast-action rods, typically shorter than 8 feet, and can be somewhat tricky to cast. McClellan, however, is on his way to mastering the tool and used a meat-eater fly that slightly resembled a crawfish on steroids to land his first two fish of the day, both of which were holding tight to deep cover.
The main stem of the Elkhorn forms where the north and south branches meet, near the Forks of Elkhorn about 6 miles east of Frankfort. From there, the creek turns north, winding its way for about 18 miles through lush Scott and Franklin counties before its confluence with the Kentucky River.
The creek is named not for the now-extinct subspecies of Eastern elk that once lived here but for its mapped shape—the main stem and north and south branches combine to roughly resemble an elk antler or horn.
We worked our way downstream through riffles and pools, a few of which surrendered a hard-fighting bass. Then, with the sun sinking behind the timbered bluff, we turned back. We exited at sundown, just as the late summer evening had begun to cool. We tallied our efforts: seven bass and one channel catfish, which surprised McClellan by inhaling his meat-eater fly and putting up a bulldog battle. A satisfying afternoon.
“You have to watch the water levels, and in the wintertime when it’s cold, [fishing] can get pretty slow. But mostly you can fish it anytime,” McClellan said. “October’s probably my favorite month.”
Time to go back.
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For more information on Elkhorn Creek, including public access points, visit fw.ky.gov.