Outdoor Tales and Trails: Trout fishing novice or expert?

By Dave Beck

I’m still waiting for the water to warm up and the muskies to be more active but that doesn’t mean I’m not fishing anymore. I’m on a trout fishing binge, that is when it’s not raining and the water isn’t too high and moving fast.

I may have mentioned this before, but trout fishing skipped a branch in my family tree. My dad didn’t know a Brown trout from a Brookie but my Grandpa Wally, well, he could turn a Mepps spinner into a trout supper with a single cast. It seemed like every time we stopped by his house he had trout soaking in a bucket waiting to be cleaned for dinner. When he passed away, my brother Garret and I bought his entire tackle collection at auction and then split it all down the middle. Sometimes I even use some of those charms but never for too long out of fear: the more sentimental a charm is, the greater the chance of losing it.

Seeing Grandpa Wally’s trout was as close as I got to the sport as a kid. Of course, I eventually found my way to the trout stream and eventually figured out how to catch some fish, but I still consider myself more novice than experienced. I know more when it comes to muskies or walleyes. When I can head to Rush River and bring home some good Browns for dinner, it’s a good day.

On a recent trip down the Rush I had the benefit of some rain-stained water that worked for Dave’s advantage. If the trout can’t see you, you can’t scare them. It’s not that I can’t catch fish in clear water, I just prefer to work a little cover in my favor. I’m sure Grandpa Wally had a saying about stained water but like his honey honey, he kept it to himself.

Soon the first Brown trout hit my little spinner and just like that I was on the board. It always feels good to land the first fish so early because it gives me hope that it’s going to be a good outing. When I catch a second trout after this, I feel very good about what the evening has in store.

I reeled in and caught a couple of small trout but I was almost surprised by the force of the next fish that hit my lure. It’s almost as if it’s bigger than all the fish I’ve ever caught, combined. I even eased my pull due to the size and strength of the fish. After a respectable battle, the fish eventually eased off the shore and I lined up my first dinner guest.

I went up the stream and caught a few trout, but they were not worthy of being invited to dinner. They were released in hopes that our paths would cross again but not until next year, or maybe the year after that. It’s still fun landing them and then watching them return to deeper water.

I had a pretty decent night and figured if I could bring one more fish home with me it would be a pretty decent spread. Well it took a few more casts but another trout the size of the first keeper hit my spinner and after another good fight I had dinner guests.

It was a good time and place to end my sightseeing. I left the Rush River Valley with a renewed confidence that when it comes to trout fishing, maybe I don’t give myself enough credit. I also thought I had a great way to test my theory. Next week I’ll tell you all about Dave’s rematch (with a fly rod) against Rush River.

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