Trying for Trout

After a weekend of trout fishing, we determined two things:

1.    We are capable of catching trout.

2.       Catching trout is not easy, even when you have someone releasing them for you the night before.

I started the weekend with a lunch-hour trip to Bass Pro, partially because it is conveniently located near my office, but mostly because there is no store in Columbia called Trout Pro. There I consulted with the person who is paid according to how much I buy, and I dove in hook (size 16), line  (4 pound-test) and sinker (70 per bag). I even bought a new rod and reel. Ann and I are in possession of about four rods and reels, and I couldn’t tell you exactly how any of them came into our life. I’m pretty sure I bought the one Zebco 33 when I was about 12 years old. I would guess that the rest were giving to us by Ann’s Dad at some point. So when I dropped $34 on a Shakespeare rod and reel combo at Bass Pro, I was feeling pretty extravagant.

I didn’t have any idea what weight line was on any of the reels on our old rods , but it looked heavier than the four pound I just bought, and some of it looked a lot heavier. But it was Friday afternoon, and all I really  had time to do was to take each rod out to the yard and make sure they would still cast. They did. We went to the farm Friday night to be closer to Maramec Springs, and that night at 9:30 p.m. I was rolling line onto my new reel.

One thing I’ve learned about Maramec Springs: Maramec is spelled differently every time you see it. The e’s and a’s seem to be completely interchangeable. You may even see it spelled a couple of different ways in this blog.

The next morning we were up at 4:30 a.m. and on the road by 5 a.m., which put us at Maramec Springs right after it opened at 5:30. We got our tags, and then picked a spot, somewhat near but not close to where other people were fishing. But more people kept coming, so by the time the whistle went off, we were all pretty close.

Even before the whistle went off, I was thinking we had arrived too early. Approximately three months too early. I was considering how trout season is open all summer long, and we were out there when the cold was really biting. It seemed like it would be more fun in June.

After much anticipation, that 6:30 a.m. whistle blew, signaling that everyone could start fishing. I got a strike immediately on my first cast using a worm on a regular hook, and pulled in a decent trout. I loved that new rod. We quickly strung it, and then I cast again. I caught another trout on my second cast. I worked him in, but a few feet from the bank he slipped off the hook.

After that – nada. We kept trying, but it appeared the really hot bite lasted for about 10 minutes. Several people around us did keep catching fish, but the only other thing I got was a laughably small blue gill.

Ann had a frustrating time with her rod, and didn’t get any bites, so we asked for some tips from fellow fishermen, and vowed to do better next time. We were advised that line weight is critical, so we opted to scrap the old line on our rods, and load up with some light-weight. We spent most of the rest of that next day putting new lines on the reels getting them rigged up.

The next day we were back at it, this time joined by Henry and Oliver. Ann had the new rod in hand, and she also had a fish soon after the buzzer. I wasn’t so lucky this time. Oliver caught a little blue gill after a few minutes, but looking around us it appeared the opening whistle rush was slower than the previous day.

We took a break for breakfast at the camp store, and then hit it again. By this time we saw very few fish being caught. There was still one or two here and there, but a lot of people were starting to look bored or frustrated. We had cut back to two rods, and kept them going, with the boys occasionally subbing in. Finally I hooked one good. I was working him in, and my drag was set too heavy, so I was using my button to play him. I gave the net to Ann, and she kneeled down and got ready. He was close, and I gave the reel a few more cranks to get him in arms-reach. Twang! The line broke, and he swam away to freedom. Unlike the one that got off the day before, this was a heartbreaking loss. We had fished hard to get a second fish, and we were ready to head for home before I caught him. When he snapped that line, I knew I had just blown my last chance of the day.

Ann and I concluded the weekend all fired up about trout fishing. We both can’t wait to go back, either to Maramec Springs, or to try one of Missouri’s other trout parks.