The Lower Niagara River - Delivering Fishing Adventures, Making Memories and Forging Hope
- Ken Perrotte
- 2 days ago
- 9 min read
Updated: 2 hours ago
By Ken Perrotte
Entering Devil’s Hole for the first time in a small fishing boat pings every nerve. This stretch of the Lower Niagara River reportedly takes its name from a small limestone cave the Seneca people knew as “The Cave of the Evil Spirit.” In 1763, during Pontiac’s Rebellion, Seneca warriors ambushed British soldiers attempting to portage around the violent water. Some 80 soldiers were killed in what became known as the Devil’s Hole Massacre.
That history adds weight to the gorge, but it is not what raises the pucker factor. The water does that all by itself. For miles from Lake Ontario, the river spreads wide, flowing with relative calm and predictability. Then, near Devil’s Hole, it suddenly pinches tight. Bluffs climb on both sides. The current changes character, angrily surging through the narrowed passage with a fury born just a few miles upstream at Niagara Falls, where thousands of tons of water thunder over the crest every second.
Soon you glide beneath the Lewiston-Queenston Bridge, where tractor-trailers crawling high overhead look like Matchbox toys. Whirlpools swirl and boil, their centers visibly lower than the surrounding water. With a big enough boat and enough horsepower, you can punch through the spinning turbulence. At low speed or while drifting, though, the river grabs the hull and slowly begins to turn it - not enough to pull you under like a whitewater hydraulic, but enough to make you feel the raw muscle of this part of the Niagara.
Many boaters hug the edges of the gorge, where the current runs more directly. From there, you pass between two massive hydroelectric plants, one in Canada and one in the United States. Warning signs repeat the obvious: high water, real danger. Above the plants, the gorge bends into a rocky oxbow. Those rocks are the target. That is where you set up, drop the trolling motor, and begin a controlled drift back toward the power plants.
Fishing guide Joe Marra calls Devil’s Hole his favorite place on the Niagara River. Marra, a longtime Lower Niagara guide, operates Niagara Rainbow Charter Service (585-509-0565) out of Lewiston. Steelhead fishing can be outstanding in spring. Autumn salmon fishing can be spectacular. Smallmouth bass and lake trout are almost always in the mix. I was making my third trip into the hole in four years, still chasing an elusive steelhead.
On a Mission — One Important Objective
It was the first week of May, and chilly winds and early morning rains disciplined anglers daring to venture out on the first two days of our five-day expedition to Lewiston, New York. We had come to join a fishing camp of outdoor communicators and industry pros coordinated by local guide Frank Campbell, who also serves as outdoor promotions director for Destination Niagara USA. Frank has plenty to promote. With the Lower Niagara River at Lewiston’s doorstep, Lake Ontario 15 minutes north, and Lake Erie 30 minutes southwest, the region offers a staggering range of opportunities. Jumbo smallmouth bass, king and coho salmon, walleye, lake trout, brown trout, steelhead, and even the occasional sturgeon all move through these waters.
The trip carried several goals. We wanted to get onto Lake Ontario and fill a cooler with salmon (a story that's next up). We wanted to spend a couple of days on the Lower Niagara and learn more about the remarkable drift fishing on the Niagara Bar at the river’s mouth. I also wanted to return to Devil’s Hole and finally connect with the steelhead that had dodged me for years.
But the most important objective was personal, intangible, and badly needed. Maria - my wife and frequent fishing partner for three decades - came with me. The months before the trip had been brutal. In December, doctors diagnosed her with aggressive, malignant skin cancer. Extensive surgery followed in January. By May, she had healed enough to travel, but the cancer had metastasized, and a long regimen of radiation treatments and infusions was scheduled to begin the day after we returned home. Those treatments, we hoped, would finish what surgery had started. For now, though, we would enjoy a respite, a needed pause, a few days of fun, fresh air, fish and friends.
On the Water
The morning of May 6 broke overcast, but the gusty winds from the day before had finally backed off. I climbed aboard Marra’s boat with Georgian Ray Lynch, a longtime fixture with Realtree Outdoors. With a Virginian and a Georgian in the boat, we dressed for the chill - hats, hoods, and gloves in place as Marra pointed the bow toward the bar.
Marra, as personable and low-pressure as guides come, ran us past Fort Niagara, a restored stronghold once held by the French, the British, and the Americans. A few boats were already working shallow water near the fort. The day before, Campbell and his crew had been surprised to catch lake trout there in just 10 feet of water. Big smallmouths were shallow too, likely chasing baitfish pushed tight by the heavy north wind.
Marra cruised past the fort and out of the river mouth into Lake Ontario. The Niagara Bar begins about a quarter mile offshore and runs for a few miles before dropping into deeper water—150 feet or more at its edge. Centuries of river-borne silt and sand created the bar, a broad shelf ranging from roughly 20 to 80 feet deep. Its drop-offs, current seams, and temperature changes create a rich transition zone that gathers baitfish, and baitfish bring predators.
The standard tactic is simple: start a drift near the river mouth and ride it across the bar toward deeper water, keeping the bait near bottom as the depth changes. Often, that means feeding line as the boat slides along. We usually cut our drifts short once we reached 50 to 60 feet.
Most guides rely on a three-way swivel rig. A snag-resistant pencil weight is tied to an 8- to 12-inch dropper. Behind it, a lure, live minnow, or shiner trails 5 to 7 feet back on fluorocarbon leader. A favorite lure is a Yakima Mag Lip or similar flatfish-style deep diver, a bait that flutters wildly, throwing off intense vibration. Blue, blue-purple, and green produced best for us, though a gold-colored lure picked up fish as well. A Metallic Blue Mag Lip coated with a Mad Scientist Tackle pink reflective coating seemed to draw extra attention from the fish - no hype, just what we saw on the water.
Another guide trick is to remove the upper treble hook when fishing these lures for salmon or trout. Marra says that hook rarely matters and often creates more problems than it solves, a pain that simply adds difficulty and danger when trying to unhook a feisty fish.
When drifting, you either hold the rod or lock your eyes on it in the holder. A fast-fluttering tip means the bait is working. A popping tip means your day just improved. Fish on!
I fished a St. Croix Triumph 8-foot, 6-inch, medium-power, fast-action salmon and steelhead rod paired with a new SeVIIn GF COLOR RUSH Series casting reel. Some people spool the reel with braided line, using fluorocarbon for the leader. We had (as I recall) 12-pound mono on the reel and 10-pound Seaguar fluoro on the leader. The setup was light for fish that can top 20 pounds, but it handled beautifully, especially near the boat. King salmon are famously unpredictable at close range, and this rod had enough backbone to steer them toward the net.
We caught a couple of hard-fighting kings during our drifts across the bar. After a few hours, we dropped Ray at Lewiston Landing and picked up Maria. The next destination was Devil’s Hole - and, maybe, my steelhead.
We had the hole to ourselves, though a handful of anglers worked from a small platform on the American side near the plant. Two fly fishermen had picked their way down a steep path, reached the river’s edge, and waded a few careful feet into the charging current.
A steelhead is a trout—an anadromous, or sea-run, rainbow trout. Steelhead and rainbow trout are the same species, Oncorhynchus mykiss. Coastal steelhead migrate to the ocean to feed and grow before returning to freshwater tributaries to spawn. In Lake Ontario and the Niagara River, the fish are landlocked instead, roaming the Great Lakes and answering the seasonal pull into the abundant tributaries. Most are stocked by the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation, though limited natural reproduction also occurs.
We cycled through lures and live baits and managed a couple of smallmouths, but my steelhead streak remained intact. On the way back, Marra wanted to hit one of his smallmouth honey holes just outside Devil’s Hole. It fired quickly. We did not break out a scale or measuring tape, but one or two of those bass likely pushed—or passed—the 6-pound mark. Smallmouth coloration can vary extensively depending on where they live, what they eat and the degree of stress they experience while catching them. These fish just outside of Devil's Hole exhibited some golden hues, sometimes indicative of living in clear water with sandy or light, rocky bottoms. They were healthy, chunky and feisty.
On the Board - You’ve Got a Steelhead!
My next Lower Niagara outing came on the final day of the expedition and I jumped aboard guide Jimmy Gordon’s boat. Gordon runs Captain Jim’s Charter Service (716) 778-7735) out of Olcott, fishing Lake Ontario for salmon and bringing his smaller boat to the river when conditions or his charter calls for it. I was paired with Dante Gramuglia from Flambeau’s marketing team. We chose Devil’s Hole as our starting point.
Gordon leaned toward live bait, so he and I fished shiners on three-way rigs. But we also set the live bait rods in holder and tossed various artificials – anything to get a bite. Gramuglia wanted to cast a jerkbait, a Spro MCStick 110+1 in the Oikawa pattern to be precise, and he worked it tight from the shoreline to the boat, quickly putting a couple of bronzed smallmouths in the boat.
We had barely begun our second drift when my live bait line snapped tight and the rod tip plunged toward the water. At first, I thought smallmouth. Then a long shape flashed 10 feet below the boat.
“Oh, it might be a laker,” I said.
Gordon corrected me instantly. “You’ve got a steelhead.”
“Get the net, get the net!” I urged, suddenly determined not to lose my first Devil’s Hole steelhead. Moments later, Gordon lifted the fish aboard.
My only previous steelhead experience had come on Lake Erie, where those fish launched like acrobats. This one stayed deep, which is why I first suspected a smallmouth or lake trout. We snapped photos, released it, and watched turn and swim back into the current. At last, I scratched Devil’s Hole steelhead off the list.
By midmorning, we wished Gramuglia safe travels, dropped him off and picked up Maria at Lewiston Landing. Now it was her turn to experience the Niagara Bar. The sun had broken through, but the air stayed brisk, with temperatures now in the low 50s and a slight but steady north breeze.
The drill stayed the same. We baited up, began drifting, and used the trolling motor to make course corrections. We immediately began marking fish. Maria drew the first bite, and her first king salmon on light tackle turned into a workout. Cancer had already drained enough from her, and an aggravating foot injury made standing difficult in a moving boat, so she fought the fish from a seated position. With a little coaching from Gordon, she worked the chunky king to the net. She was worn out, but she was smiling. Another salmon and a lake trout rounded out the morning. We called it a trip and crossed another goal off the list.
The Road Goes On
As Maria and I rode back with Gordon toward Lewiston Landing on the sunlit, scenic Lower Niagara, I thought about another trip, 28 years earlier in northern California. We had traveled the Pacific Coast, fished for salmon out of Fort Bragg, crossed the rugged Sierra Nevadas, and later caught largemouth bass in a mountain lake tucked into a valley. We also had a meaningful encounter with an innkeeper who was undergoing in quiet solitude his own ordeal. For some people – people like us, I guess - time on the water with like-minded adventurers is the purest form of good living. And knowing the dinner you caught is on ice in the cooler, well, that’s the cherry on the sundae.
The year ahead will be hard. We know that. But for one magical week near Niagara Falls, the river roared and the fish bit, the buffalo wings were tasty and the beer cold. Cancer did not get to call the shots.
Lower Niagara River Fishing - Make the Run
The Lower Niagara River’s Lewiston Landing is just outside the front door of the Niagara Crossing Hotel and Spa, a beautifully restored property set in the heart of sportfishing central.
Great places to eat include the Brickyard Pub, which features a huge list of craft beers, outstanding chicken wings, barbecue, steaks and more.
Apple Granny, has a wide-ranging menu with some homespun favorites.
The Griffon Brewery and Gastropub is just a couple hundred yards from the hotel and on the Niagara River waterfront.
If you have never been to the famous falls, plan to add a half-day visit. There can be considerable walking involved so plan and park accordingly. Niagara Falls State Park has many overlooks and scenic points to visit. For an even more up-close experience, you can try the Cave of the Winds, where the Hurricane Deck gets you extremely close to this natural wonder. The Maid of the Mist boat takes you to a point near the base of the falls, where you’re going to get drenched. Guests are given a souvenir rain poncho to wear aboard the double-deck tour boat.
For the complete rundown on fishing activities in Lewiston and around Niagara Falls, see Fish Niagara Falls. They publish a weekly fishing report and have a detailed listing of the many charter captains operating in the area. If you plan to bring your own boat, Fish Niagara Falls also offers an excellent overview of boat landings in the area.