Rolled out of bed, cooked an egg sandwich and hit the Mississippi for some Sabbath smallmouth fishing. Given my heathen ways, it doesn't really matters to me that it is the Sabbath. When I was working stiff, Sundays always had a flavor I didn't much care for--kind of like mouthful of soapy water. Now it doesn't matter much.
On to the bite: I found a bunch of smallies who were up to no good. They were decent sized--14 to 16 inches--but not big. Most were loitering near the submerged rock piles by the main channel. I fished between the Lowry Bridge and the Burlington Northern tressle, using quarter ounce jigs with big green twister tails.
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