When I was kid, the St. Johns River was known as the "Bass Fishing Capital of the World". While there were other hotspots for big bass, nothing could top the sheer size and grandeur of the mighty St. Johns. Three hundred-plus miles of pure hawg heaven, stuffed to the banks with eelgrass, lily pads and a dozen varieties of vegetation that kept fishermen drooling year-round.
Visitors came by the thousands. In any given year, the St. Johns was responsible for producing more 10-pound bass than any waterway in the world. It was paradise.
Gradually, things changed. Invasive vegetation, most notably water hyacinths, expanded rapidly, providing a challenge that area managers struggled to control. Exotic fish like tilapia and South American catfish overtook many areas. Gamefish spawning habitat decreased due to siltation, flood events and urban pressures on the resource. In just a few decades, the bass capital was a shell of itself.
Major tournaments continued to visit the St. Johns, posting impressive results at times. But nearly all of the fishing was compressed to Lake George, the single waterway still holding viable bass habitat while the rest of the river lacked. A series of flood events later wiped out Big George’s habitat, too, leaving a river nearly void of any rooted vegetation.
Recent electrofishing results confirmed what fishermen had known for years: gamefish populations along nearly all of the St. Johns River were at historic lows. The last time shocking was done on Lake George, mullet outnumbered bass.
But why? Why was a place that once seemed so integral to bass fishing, so important to the masses, seemingly wiped off the map? Why wasn’t there more blowback, or at least a response from the management community regarding this long-term decline?
Quite simply, bass fishermen are push-overs. Dissatisfied with the fishing, St. Johns River anglers simply drove off. Places like Headwaters Lake, Rodman and the Harris Chain gobbled up the tourists. Somewhere, around the corner, dreams of Florida lunkers were still a reality. It was just a matter of putting on a few more miles.
The best freshwater resource in the state became the most underutilized. To be fair, a few passionate managers continue to push for restoration, even creating initiatives for vegetation replants. Yet just down the creek, other groups go about business as usual, spraying herbicides that eliminate what little fish habitat is left.
Everyone just assumed that was the end of the story. Fishing guides threw their hands up, now enduring long drives to more productive waters. Fish camps targeted bikers instead of boaters. Tournament trails moved on.
This has never made any sense to me.
When I go by a sign that reads “Bass Capital of the World”, and it’s attached to an out-of-business mobile home park, I think of places like Lake Chickamauga and the busy tackle shops there. I think of Green Pond Landing and the madhouse on a Saturday morning. I remember Palatka, Fla. when I was a kid, and waiting two hours for a table at a riverside restaurant to order locally caught catfish. And seeing the gigantic bass on the wall, and overhearing stories of bigger fish that got away from the sunburned visitors.
Sometimes, I wondered if I was the only one thinking that way.
The first time I walked into Highland Park Fish Camp in my new hometown, I knew other people like me existed. All over the walls were huge bass mounts; fish up to 15 pounds. Yet, my best river bass rarely topped 6.
Photographs everywhere depicted the good ol’ days, when productive fishing spots existed in every direction. Here was a place that had lived it, and had documented proof.
Later, I learned of the changes. Areas once rich with vegetation were eradicated by overzealous applicators. Siltation became a big issue. Historic spawning grounds became gurgling mud flats. Any attempt to discuss with area managers fell on deaf ears.
“Oh, we’ve tried,” a veteran guide told me. “Nothing ever changes. We’re sick of trying. It’s pointless.”
And maybe it was. But it’s not anymore.
Today, the world is different. Premier fishing locations compete with each other for traveling anglers. Entire communities base their success on the bass fishing game. Just ask around at places like Santee or New York’s smallmouth meccas.
And resource managers are listening, or they better be. Social media has allowed groups to organize and reach stakeholders by the thousands in just seconds. That disgruntled fishing guide? He now has a voice, and one that carries weight when joined with his community. That same voice represents the struggling bait shop, family motel and breakfast joint.
The world is different. Tired of the status quo and a forgotten resource, a new group plans to change things around the St. Johns River. To give a voice to thousands of outdoor enthusiasts and businesses, and restore the Bass Fishing Capital of the World.
That group is Mighty River Recovery.
The fate of the St. Johns River never made any sense to me. So, with a diverse group of board members, I formed a non-profit organization specifically designed to combat fish and wildlife habitat declines along the St. Johns. If this affects you, Mighty River Recovery will be your seat at the table.
With experience in working with resource managers, and a staff consisting of biologists, tourism professionals, fishing guides and business owners, we will push for results. We will attend the meetings, unify the stakeholder base and work to protect a rapidly disappearing resource. We will network with other organizations, look for alternate management methods, and insist there be a better way.
We will also educate our members. A great deal of information – specifically regarding herbicide use and “spraying” ¬– is false information. A bunch more, we simply don’t know. This is not acceptable.
We will attempt to increase dialogue between managers and the public. Communication in this regard has hit an all-time low – thanks, in large part, to this same misinformation. We need a better effort here from both sides, and we plan to check up on each. It’s time to sit at the adult’s table.
Most importantly, we need to stop accepting this known, documented decline in habitat and numbers. To stop kicking the can down the road and start addressing the tough subjects. Mighty River Recovery will do that.
We encourage anyone interested in better health for the St. Johns River and its inhabitants to explore www.mightyriverrecovery.org. There, you will find a number of ways you can get involved and help us on our journey. Every name, number and membership increases our voice. You can also find us on Facebook and Instagram.
Why do we continue to accept the documented decline of a public resource? Learn more about our new group, and help to restore one of bass fishing’s greatest waters.
(Joe Balog is the often-outspoken owner of Millennium Promotions, Inc., an agency operating in the fishing and hunting industries. A former Bassmaster Open and EverStart Championship winner, he's best known for his big-water innovations and hardcore fishing style. He's a popular seminar speaker, product designer and author, and is considered one of the most influential smallmouth fishermen of modern times.)
