There’s a big river up north that sets the standard for me. It’s the place that measures every bit of success I have on other rivers and whispers, “Okay, but can you do that here?” This river, in all its power and vastness, waits out the early season, keeping tabs on me as I build confidence on lesser waters. When I finally make the trip, when the flows drop just enough to be safe, it’s always there, humbling me once again.
I wish I could say it’s my favorite river. But in reality, this river is more like my nemesis. No matter how well I do elsewhere, I haven’t unlocked its full potential. I haven’t spent enough time to truly understand it. And each time I return, it lets me know how much more there is to learn.
That’s why I remember every trout I stir from its depths. They just mean more here. These trout, wild and strong like the ones I find elsewhere, are different. They’re more elusive, more powerful, and somehow more mysterious. Every fish I bring to the net feels like a step toward the angler I want to be.
The Plan That Didn’t Work… Until It Did
On this trip, driving through the early morning darkness, I convinced myself the indicator rig was the way to go. There’s just too much water to cover, right? Tightlining here seemed like a waste of time. But, as usual, the Big River got into my head, making me second-guess myself. An hour went by without a fish, the prime morning hours slipping away. The sun finally peeked through the clouds, and I could feel that little bit of pressure creeping in.
It was time to switch things up. I went back to what I know—my mono rig. I tied on a couple of confidence nymphs, the ones that have always worked for me, and started working downstream, breaking the river into more manageable pieces. Success didn’t come instantly, but this is the Big River. It makes you work for everything.
Late Summer, Cold Water on the Big River
This river waits for me each summer, knowing I’ll return. By August, most other rivers in the area are dealing with thermal issues, but not this one. Its water stays cold, and so does the challenge it offers.
With most hatches done for the season, I stayed focused on nymphing, hoping for a few rising fish in the evening. As the afternoon sun burned away what was left of the morning gray, the trout got even more cautious. It took patience, but I found a few fish tucked behind rocks or hiding in the broken water. The Big River never gives anything away for free, but it offered just enough to keep me in the game.
The Evening Rise
The late-August sun started to dip behind the mountains, and finally, a few fish began to rise. There’s something about a dry fly take that makes the whole day worthwhile. Just one more fish to end the day on a high note, to make that long drive home feel a little shorter.
Why I Keep Coming Back
Every trout I catch here sticks with me. The struggle, the occasional success, the moments of frustration—they all fuel my desire to keep getting better. The Big River up north has taught me that fishing is only part of the journey. I’m also here to learn. And each trip brings me one step closer to the angler I want to become.
Thanks for reading. Spend more time on the water!
Jeff
