The sun was pushing its way over the far eastern fringe of trees, the sky a bright, brilliant, yellow gold. I stood quietly, listening to the stream bubbling, the birds singing and the raucous cawing of crows.

A gabbling flight of geese passed low overhead, a perfect V against the bright morning sky.

I drank in this beautiful symphony, shutting my eyes and letting God’s glorious creation sink deep into my soul. How fortunate to be standing here, able to take part in this miracle of beauty and rebirth. Even the snow couldn’t ruin the mornings perfection.

Turning from the magnificent sunrise, a flick of my wrist tossed a fat worm upstream. My bait didn’t touch the bottom on the first drift so the second cast landed farther upstream. Gingerly lifting the rod tip I felt the bait tapping the bottom, perfect. Suddenly the worm stopped, prompting me to instantly set the hook into a solid, unmoving weight; good grief, snagged the second cast!

Standing there disgusted, the ultra-light doubled over, the snag suddenly shifted to one side; oh, my word, it was a fish!

The “snag” came powerfully to life, stripping drag. My tiny spincast reel, 4-pound test and ultra-light rod felt puny and inadequate compared to the trout’s strength; like holding a bull on a string.

Without warning the trout turned and shot downstream toward the tail of the pool as I held desperately onto the straining rod. Just short of the foaming rapids the trout hesitated and I immediately lessened the pressure, barely keeping the line tight. Waiting breathlessly, my heart in my mouth, the fish finally began slowly moving upstream. Thank goodness! When the trout drew opposite me it was time to again increase the pressure.

At this point the battle shifted, the fish staying in deeper water, making shorter, violent runs. We slugged it out and after 10 minutes the fish rolled to the surface, her gorgeous silver and pink flanks rolled and flashed, a rainbow, my eyes opening wide at her size.

The most nerve-wracking part of the fight then commenced. I gingerly worked the big rainbow to shore, where she flopped wildly and dashed back to the center of the stream. Resisting the overpowering urge to try and hold her I let her run back out each time for five very long, tension-filled minutes, hoping and praying my strained and stretched line would hold.

Finally, the big rainbow rolled over on her side at last, totally spent.

Stepping into the shallows and dropping my rod, using both hands, I scooped her onto the beach, a 28-inch, 8-pound beauty! My hands were shaking badly holding this gorgeous fish up, shining silver in the bright sunlight of the new day, the wide stripe a vivid pink in the sparkling morning light.

Landing bigger fish is difficult. When you first see that trophy fish, your instinct is to drag the fish to shore. Almost without exception this is disastrous, snapping your line or tearing the hook loose. You must control your emotions and be very patient to consistently land bigger fish.

An oversized trout’s powerful and fast and cannot be controlled early in the battle. Initially, keep your rod tip high, maintaining a steady pressure on the fish. Pull firmly, but allocate a margin of safety allowing for unpredictable lightning-fast runs and sudden

surges. During the battle check your surroundings, moving as far away as possible from any brush piles or snags. Also, locate the best area to land the trout, a beach or gradual shoreline if possible. Attempt to steer the fish in that direction.

After those initial runs a bulldog type of battle usually develops, both sides giving and taking.

During this period you must remain patient. If the fish sulks, take your time, it will move again, just keep a steady pressure on. Don’t rush, try and enjoy this battle, savor it. Big trout are individuals, some tire quickly, others take much longer.

The final stage of the fight is always the most stressful. The fish is finally tiring, but still has strength enough to thrash and turn that big side into the current, making determined rushes toward the center of the stream. The bigger the fish, the more often they run back out. Now is the time the majority of trophy fish are lost.

There are several reasons for this. One, the hook may have gradually been working loose, the hole enlarging. Use minimal pressure to work it back in, baby the fish. Remember, the line may be frayed and nicked by snags or teeth, the battle stresses weakening the knot and stretching your monofilament. However, the most common reason fish are lost is the angler sees that trophy trout just 3 feet from his or her boots, panics and tries to drag it in.

Snap goes the line, out tears the hook, slip goes your knot and that trophy fish is gone forever!

Remember, if any fish is firmly hooked and you avoid those mistakes, mentioned above your odds of landing your trophy is excellent. So, good luck fishing this year and I hope the above strategies will increase your odds of landing that trophy.

Wade Robertson