We had made our plans a couple days prior. Chris was driving up from Chicago to fish with me. We timed the outing for a semi-cloudy day since big trout are a little sun shy. We parked the vehicle, walked down a field road to the stream, and talked as we walked.

We fished a little downstream before the hole, where I have caught numerous “bigs” prior. We stopped fishing about 30 yards below the hole. I typically do this because I don’t want the littles to alert the big trout.

We stood there at 30 yards, and I explained the lays of the hole. The field bridge had a spring about 50 yards upstream. The hole below the bridge was the deepest hole in 100 yards in both directions.

Most times, a field bridge has a few rocks placed in the water to support the footers of the bridge during flooding. The rocks caused a rapids to form under the bridge, and when the spring floods cleared that area, the force of the water cut out a nice hole.

I was explaining to Chris where the alpha would be lying. It would have the best feeding position. We both decided that, right after the rapids, the bridge footer rocks created a natural drop-off. This is where I told Chris the big dog would be lying.

We talked about his battle position as we got closer. I told him that I would stay back a way. We needed shadow and vibration control. I told him to take baby steps as he got to his casting location and to watch where he was stepping. A misstep on a twig could blow our chances.

We had decided that his first cast needed to be up under the bridge, in the fast water. We needed to hide the splash of the lure entering the water. Chris made maybe 20 casts, and nobody was home. He cut up the entire hole and the edges. He was clearly dejected and told me to try the hole.

I told Chris that he needed to try some different tactics. We “spin anglers” are often accused of lacking talent because all we do is cast upstream and retrieve. I asked Chris if he thought it was odd that we didn’t even catch a little trout in this hole?

A light bulb went on. There should have been at least one decent trout in that hole. Why was there not? A big, predatory, territorial monster must live in there, I told Chris. We needed a little different approach to catch it.

I told Chris to make the same cast under the bridge, but where the fast water started to slow on the downstream side of the bridge, he should stop retrieving for a second-and-a-half. The spinner would dive like a real minnow or frog. Chris executed the “slow dance,” and I told him to retrieve it back at half speed.

I saw a shadow following and I yelled for him to pause it for a second and begin retrieving again. The long, female brown freight-trained the spinner; the slow dance had worked. I netted the beast and photos were taken. Chris posed at his battle station after he let her go.

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