Rapped Right. The author with a quality walleye caught on Big Detroit Lake using a jig rap. Simonson Photo.

By Nick Simonson

The rocky outcropping on the lip of the weedy flat shielded the shallows from the northeast wind, and the pods of four-to-six-inch perch dissipated as we drifted up the rise into the reef.  Steadily, I raised and lowered the tip of my baitcasting rod at the back of the boat, feeling the clunk of the lead bodied jigging rap against the boulders below.  Thump.  Thump. Thump.

With a crank of the reel, I raised the lure above the obstructions and let the firetiger patterned bait swing freely above the craggy area.  The last of the blips on the sonar disappeared on the side scroll, signaling the edge of the bait ball and hopefully the start of the place where the predators we were seeking would lurk, waiting to pick off an unwary perch straying from the main school.  I dropped the lure and paused, readying for the upward swing of the plastic-ruddered torpedo with a center treble hook and the two curved ones at its nose and tail.  Instead, the jigging motion became a hookset, as the bottom of the rhythmic motion gave way to a headshake and a pull in the opposite direction.  After a few hard runs that had me at first thinking the fish was a rogue pike, the golden-scaled sprint to the back of the boat confirmed that a nice walleye was the result of yet another foray into the late summer presentation of jig-rapping for these fish.

I’ll be honest that I didn’t have much faith in jig raps whether through the ice where I first used them years ago without much success, or up until a few seasons back in the late summer where they now seem to be as part-and-parcel with walleye fishing as a jig and twister is in the spring, or a spinner on a bottom bouncer is in early summer.  Now, however, I’ve been taken in by the fun of the presentation that more often than not produces quality fish for me, usually only a few hundred yards out from the dock on some favorite areas just clear of the well-developed summer weedline.  It’s a relaxing rise and fall of the rod that’s as easy on the arm as it is on the brain after a few tries; a quick snap up and a slow follow-down of the bait on the drop to keep the line tight and to feel for any takers on the far end of things.  It’s simple to discern the adventurous taps of perch and bluegills from the whomp of a walleye, and when that regular jigging motion suddenly turns into a sweeping hookset, sometimes even on accident, the jolt of excitement is comparable to just about any other experience in angling.

With a simple leader of ten-pound fluorocarbon, either tied directly to the main line with a uni-to-uni knot or a small barrel swivel for the sake of speed and to limit line twist, and a jig rap in those favorite confidence colors like shiner blue, perch or firetiger connected via a Rapala knot or a speed clip, it doesn’t take much to get into the game and try out this late openwater phenomenon.  When walleyes are active, it can be fast and furious, and even when they’re not, the reaction strike the small bait can produce simply by hanging out in front of them, and settling into the bottom of its up-and-down wave of motion can be too much for any walleye to resist.  Like many things that I’m now addicted to in the field and on the water including the adrenaline rush that comes with it, the presentation is something that took a few extra tries to make it work, but I’m glad I stuck with it…in our outdoors.

Simonson is the lead writer and editor of Dakota Edge Outdoors.