
By Cal Kellogg
Later the fog would burn off, but just after dawn when I arrived a heavy overcast hung just above the lake and the bank was wet and slick with dew. The muddy shore gave way to the seemingly black water. With zero wind the lake’s surface took on the properties of a giant mirror punctuated with spirals of faint mist that slowly crept toward open water.
Working at the water’s edge, I rigged my spinning rod with a clear bobber, followed by a 30-inch leader sporting a No. 8 black woolly bugger. Once the bobber was filled with the water it probably weighed over an ounce.
Bringing the rod back I let go with a blistering cast. The heavy bobber combined with the fact that the reel was spooled with fine diameter 8-pound mono allowed me to shoot the fly far down range, thereby allowing me to cover a maximum amount of territory from my outpost on the bank.
When the rig splashed down I allowed it to settle below the surface for a moment and then started a slow steady retrieve with the bobber just beneath the surface.
As the bobber and fly came into sight 30 feet away I was already thinking about my next cast when I detected a flash behind the gear. A beat later the water swirled and my line came to life.
The trout’s first reaction to the sting of the hook was a brief but vigorous series of headshakes. When that failed to shake the fly loose, the fish panicked and bolted. Line screamed out of my reel against the resistance of the drag.
For the next several minutes I kept the pressure on the fish as my buddy followed me back and forth, up and down the bank, net in hand. At one point I almost had the trout within range of the long-handled net only to have it storm off on a sustained 20 foot run that ended when the fish catapulted out of the water.
With all the acrobatics, I fully expected the hook to be tossed, but luck must have been on my side. Gradually I was able to work the 20-inch trout to the bank and my partner.