Today, I prepared to meet Greg and Scott at the ramp at noon. A front had moved through overnight, and I was happy to see that very little rain had fallen in the Little Pigeon River watershed. I was getting organized for the trip when the phone rang. Greg said, “Have you looked at the recent forecast for today?” I admitted that I had not, assuming high and muddy water was not going to be an issue. However, I didn’t anticipate that high winds and gusts over forty miles per hour in the valley where going to be our main nemesis for the day. After some discussion with Greg, we decided to go for it. I told him that I thought I could get out of the wind on the Little Pigeon and salvage the trip. Scott was in total agreement as well. As we left the ramp, and I proceeded downstream on the French Broad River, we began bashing into whitecap after whitecap making me wonder if I had made the right decision to brave the elements. The first place we fished was completely exposed to the onslaught of those gusty north winds.  I had to give it a shot, because of how well it has fished this spring. It was so windy, I was concerned that they were not even going to be able to feel the fish strike. That concern was alleviated immediately when both anglers hooked up on their first casts. I thought that was a lucky start to the day, but it had to be a one off, because this had developed into your classic “cold front conditions”. The sky was now clearing, and it was sunny. We had strong north winds and a rising barometer. All of those conditions, when combined, are a frequent recipe for the smallies to shut down, making it for a tough day on the water. But the smallies in this spot were going to “Damn the Cold Front Torpedos” and go on an epic feeding frenzy. For the next six hours of fishing, there were very few casts that were made that did not illicit some sort of a strike. I was amazed that they could even detect half of the hits. There were several times when the gusts were so strong, that my jet boat with eighty-five pounds of anchor would be blown fifty yards or more away from the area that we were fishing. I would have to raise the anchor and move back into position several times throughout the day. The smallies didn’t seem to mind the disruption, and would continue to feed even though we had clearly at times passed right over the fish with the anchor in tow. The final tally of the day was sixty-one smallies. What amazing was that fifty-one of those fish were between sixteen and nineteen and a quarter inches long. No twenty plus inch fish today. Ironically, it was only yesterday, when Robert caught seven smallies in this very same spot, including a hefty twenty inch fish that weighed four pounds and two ounces. It was like they materialized en masse over night. It is possible that these were indeed post spawn fish that were making there way back to the French Broad River. Regardless, it was an epic day on the water for Greg and Scott. I failed to mention that they are good friends of mine from the industry I was associated with before I became a fishing guide. They fished with me last April, and also smoked the smallies on that day. In my opinion, you couldn’t find a couple of nicer guys, and I was happy that they had the good fortune of experiencing another truly exceptional river smallie adventure.