Streamer Fishing for Big Trout – Part One

No wind, just the river and the mountains draped in the melancholy of a sunless sky. Clouds hung low and drizzle seemed imminent.

I layered up at the tailgate of my truck. The sound of laughter and talk of what flies to use or not to use filled my ears. All the while an unspoken angst smoldered in the minds of all of us. Would the river relinquish a fish today? Not just any fish have you, but a big boy, a fish to remember. That’s always the question, the hope, the motivation that drives a fisherman.

I snapped the lid down on my rod vault, then walked a straight line towards the river… alone. Two rods in hand, one a streamer rig and the other my backup nymph rod. Under my boots I could feel the crunch of cold dry grass. It took me back to times traipsing through endless farmland as a kid, late in the season, when the foxtail and fescue were yellowed and prickly hard. I loved the sound, the smell, everything.

For some reason the river seemed daunting that morning. Stepping out into the current, I felt as though I was surrendering to something — something bigger than myself. Maybe it was the intensity and chop to the riffle, maybe it was the foreboding presence of the clouds reflecting in the water’s surface? Whatever it was I kept it in the back of mind and made my first cast across the river.

As expected, late autumn had brought a sullen chill to the air, a bite that cut hard through even the thickest of wool sweaters. My fingers, now wet from the line, tingled with cold. I cupped a hand over my lips and breathed a long drawn out breath, then cast again. This time further than before. I let it dead drift for several seconds then I began my upstream retrieve.

Wham! My line went straight.

“Fish on boys,” I yelled to my buddies as they were still pulling up waders and tying up boot laces.

I knew right away this was a big fish. I could tell by the weight of the tug and the stout feel of the head shake. Then there was the lull, that short window of time right after the take where a fish stays low and deep in the water column. Bigger fish tend to have this sense, that patience to fight first from below. It’s safer there. Once this fails then they run. And that’s exactly what this one did.

I held on tightly to the cork of my rod as this trout took me from one side of the river to the other. An acrobatic leap into the air confirmed it… this was a slab alright.

I’d fished this stretch of the North Platte plenty over the years, and had found descent success. Today was showing promise of the same. I was using one of two articulated streamer patterns popular to this area… the Rusty Trombone. It was especially deadly this time of year.

The next few minutes became a tug of war. I’d gain some ground, then lose it again. A second run and another jump and I began to see signs of surrender. When a dorsal fin broke the surface of the water, then a tail, I thought I was home free.

What happened next is still strange to me, but then nothing about landing a big fish is to be expected. Just as I was making what I thought was my final retrieval, this trout just spit the hook. No major head shake or pull. No broken or frayed leader. Just poof… fish gone! My streamer and leader all fully intact. I stood there for a moment in a state of shock. What in the heck just happened?

As with any lost fish, I always ask myself what I could have done differently. Today I was questioning the size and strength of my gear more than anything. Was my 5 weight just too small for this fish? I’d caught big trout on this rod before, but something felt different this time. As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t get any leverage over the fish or the current. My rod felt like a noodle in my hand.

To be honest, I’ve never considered myself a diehard streamer fisherman, and the fact that I don’t even own a rod larger then a 5 weight is proof of that. My gear and my priorities have always been centered around nymphing and dry fly fishing first, streamer fishing second. I’m not really sure why I haven’t put more energy towards streamer fishing, since most of my bigger fish have been on streamers. Perhaps it’s the unpredictability of the streamer bite. More so I think I’m just in a rut. Either way I’m beginning to see if I want to consistently hook and land bigger trout, I need to beef up my streamer game!

This article is the first in a series of posts about my journey towards becoming a better streamer fisherman. Since it all starts with the rod and line we’ll cover that next, along with leader setup and reels. After which we’ll look into streamer strategies and what’s behind the streamer bite. All in an effort to put more big fish into the back of the net!