
“Okay, cast up into that area of broken water,” instructed Kirk Portocarrero, and I fired my bead and slinky rig upstream.
The water was about 10 feet deep, so it took a second or two for the rig to reach the bottom. Once it did, I could clearly feel the slinking working over rocks and gravel, and then I felt something else: two firm tugs followed by steady pressure. Instinct took over, the spinning rod’s tip shot skyward, and the rod bent as I worked the reel quickly to keep any slack from forming.
At first, the unseen trout did some head shaking before taking off on a long sustained upstream run. This was no pansize rainbow; this was a substantial fish!
Kirk grabbed my video camera and started shooting as minutes slipped by. The fish’s strategy was to stay deep in the fastest moving water it could find. My strategy was to keep the rod loaded and hope that the barbless hook stayed in place.
The river’s cold, oxygen-rich water is like a steroid for the Sac’s wild rainbows, giving them incredible power and stamina. For quite a while, the big rainbow didn’t seem to weaken at all, but ever so slowly, I sensed that the tide was turning my way. The movements of the fish were less crisp, and I was able to break it free of the bottom.
When the trout first appeared beside the big Willie jet boat, I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. The rainbow was a full 23 inches long, was at least 6 inches wide along the flanks, and likely weighed just over or under 4 pounds. It had an incredible iridescent red strip that started on the gill plates and extended down the length of the body nearly to the tail.
Over the course of my 40 plus year fishing career, I’ve caught more rainbow trout than any other species of fish. I don’t know how many I’ve caught in total, but I know that it is far in excess of