294 
FOREST AND STREAM 
July, 1921 
SPINNING FOR TROUT IN COLORADO 
CASTING A SPINNER AND LANDING IT SPINNING IS AN ART IN 
ITSELF WHICH CAN BE ACQUIRED ONLY BY LONG PRACTICE 
I WAS fishing on the North Fork of 
the Coeur d’ Alene river, in North 
Idaho, and having poor success. It 
was during the latter part of June and 
the stream was full of bull-heads and 
crawfish, and there seemed to be noth- 
ing that would lure a trout to strike. 
I had always been a fair fly-fisherman, 
but after two days of unsuccessful ef- 
fort in water that we knew contained 
trout in abundance, we were complete- 
ly discouraged and ready to take the 
trail for home with empty baskets. 
That evening as we sat by our camp 
fire on the river bank two lumber-jacks 
drifted by in a boat; they were fishing 
and getting a large trout with almost 
every cast. We hailed them with a 
query as to the bait they used. They 
shouted back “Spoon” and held up sev- 
eral large fish for our inspection as 
they drifted around the bend. 
We spent the remainder of the even- 
ing discussing the chances of getting 
some fish the next day on one of our 
spoons, and when we took stock of our 
supply we found that we only had one. 
I discovered that I had two pearl shell 
medium spinners that an enthusiastic 
tackle salesman had sold me the season 
before and that I had never used. 
We therefore agreed that my partner 
should take the heavy part of the pack 
and start over the trail to Kingston, 
and I would take the spoon and go up 
a short distance and fish down far 
enough to try it out. 
The following morning we were up 
with the sun, and after breakfast my 
partner started down the trail. I put 
our only spoon on my leader and 
started up stream. Our camp was lo- 
cated in a cottonwood grove a few hun- 
dred yards below the mouth of the Lit- 
tle North Fork and when I reached the 
bend directly opposite the mouth of the 
Little river I found that some saw-logs 
had drifted into a jam during the night 
and that by careful manoeuvring I 
would be able to cross by making a 
long jump to the opposite side. In 
making this jump I miscalculated the 
distance and landed in deep water and 
when I succeeded in scrambling to the 
shore I was much vexed to note that I 
had broken my leader and lost my 
treasured spoon. 
With no elation I got out one of the 
pearl spinners and put it on a new 
leader. Then I decided to try my luck 
in the Little river. 
To reach my destination I was com- 
pelled to climb a high rocky point to 
get around a long stretch of dead 
water on the main river and I struck 
the river about one hundred yards 
from where it joined an arm of the 
main stream. 
At this point the river was wide 
and very shallow, and both banks were 
By LOUIS A. THOMAS 
heavily lined with brush. I waded out 
into the center of the stream and 
looked up and down for a good place 
to cast. Not far ahead upstream was 
a riffle and a deep hole next to some 
rocks that looked inviting. 
I started wading upstream and wish- 
ing to get my leader soaked I let my 
line trail out behind me. I had pro- 
ceeded probably twenty feet toward my 
new destination when a sharp jerk on 
my line made me think I had hooked 
up on a snag. Looking in the direction 
of my hook I saw a large trout going 
full speed ahead down stream. Not be- 
ing sure ..how well he was hooked I 
tried to play safe by giving him a long 
run and plenty of line. I did not use 
an automatic reel in those days and 
when I stopped him he turned and 
came back up stream faster than I 
could reel in my line. 
As a result he got several yards of 
slack and passed me — headed for the 
deep hole upstream. I stopped him by 
stepping on the line; then he swam sev- 
eral circles around me and in my ex- 
citement I fell down. I managed to 
hold on to the pole and the fish, regard- 
less of a badly tangled line, stayed on 
the hook. I finally reeled him in by 
hand and landed him safely in my creel. 
After picking the tangles out of my 
line I made another cast in the shallow 
water below me and to my astonish- 
ment immediately hooked another fine 
fish. I located a break in the brush 
a short distance up stream and landed 
him successfully. I repeated the per- 
formance a number of times and every 
cast brought me a good fish. The 
stream was clear as crystal and it 
didn’t seem possible that so many fine 
fish could lay in such shallow water 
and not be in plain sight. I soon dis- 
covered that the flopping of the fish on 
the rocks where I was landing them 
was chipping and breaking my spinner 
so I moved up to a better landing place. 
When my basket was just about full 
I found that my spinner was so badly 
broken that it wouldn’t spin, so I re- 
placed it with a new one and began 
moving up stream, selecting only the 
best holes, and trying only for the big 
fish. In an hour I had filled my basket 
and as much more as I could carry 
in a small sack used for carrying 
lunch. The more I caught the more I 
tried to catch only big ones. Finally I 
approached a point where the water 
riffled under an old log partly sub- 
merged near the opposite bank. A 
careful cast just next to the log term- 
inated my fishing almost as suddenly 
as it began for a big bull-trout grabbed 
my spinner and snipped it from the 
leader as if it had been a leaf on a 
twig. 
Reeling in my hookless line I real- 
ized for the first time that my back was 
aching with the load I was carrying. 
Finding a grassy bank I emptied my 
basket and sack and found that I had 
the limit of native cut-throat trout 
varying in weight from hlalf a pound 
upward. 
After dressing them and packing 
them carefully in long grass for carry- 
ing I started for camp. When I got 
back to the main river I found that my 
friendly log jam had drifted out and I 
had to look for a new crossing. This 
I found on a long bar opposite the 
Carlson Ranch. With the weight of 
my fish for ballast I was able to make 
the crossing, wading down stream at 
an angle. 
After picking up my pack at the 
camp I started over the trail for Kings- 
ton. I stumbled along with my load, 
which grew heavier as I went along, 
and I was finally compelled to divide 
the fish into two packs, carrying one 
ahead for some distance and then going 
back to get the other. This made slow 
traveling, and it was past midnight 
when I reached home. Thus I was initi- 
ated in the art of using a spinner. 
I have used it on all my expeditions 
since and am sure that there is no 
other single bait that will bring in as 
large a percentage of trout. 
On subsequent excursions I experi- 
mented with various kinds of spinners 
and I have even constructed some to 
suit my own fancy. As I formerly used 
different flies on different occasions and 
in different streams I now carry an as- 
sortment of spinners. I have instruct- 
ed a number of my- friends in the use 
of the spinner and some who had no 
previous experience in trout fishing 
soon became experts. 
Successful fly - fishermen usually 
make good catches with the spinner 
because t-he same trick that lands a fly 
at the right angle to attract a trout 
will land a spinner spinning and keep 
it moving. 
The old time eastern fisherman who 
sits on the bank and watches a cork 
will consider spinner fishing rather 
strenuous because it requires constant 
motion and eternal vigilance to make a 
spinner go. The spinner must spin from 
the minute it strikes the water until 
you draw it out for a new cast. 
Casting with a spinner is an art in 
itself and will be acquired only by long 
practice. A good knowledge of fly 
casting gives an excellent basis upon 
which to begin the use of the spinner. 
I have often heard fly-fishermen be- 
wail the fact that a windy day had 
spoiled their sport. To any one who 
understands using a spinner a windy 
day will be welcomed with delight. I 
have made some of my best catches 
when the wind was blowing so hard 
