Trout Stories

Learning to Be a Trout Fisherman – Tom Kromer 

 In the late 40’s and early 50’s several men in the area supplemented their income by acting as fishing guides on the Muskegon River.  Dad knew all of the guides, and we spent time talking to them to learn where the fish were, what techniques they were using to catch the fish and the best times and conditions for fishing.  I was included in these discussions as an equal and felt important as a result.  The “Big rock”, “Anderson flats”

“Bridgeton” “the Piers”, “Seiters Landing’, “the Landslide”,  “the Big Trout Hole”, “the Sauger Hole” and the “Perch Place” became common reference points and areas that I grew to know in terms of their locations on the river and how to fish each place with maximum results.  After a few years of fishing the Muskegon River my father would often allow me to be the “guide” and handle the boat for the trip.  I remember how important I felt as a result.

 We would occasionally take a “paying” guest with us on one of our trips.  A guide would call dad to say he had one more fisherman than he could handle in his boat.  He would ask dad if he was going to fish on a particular day and if he would be willing to take an extra person along with him.  I met important men that way.  I had a chance to talk with them for long periods of time and learned much from what they had to say.  I also realized that having a nice walleye on the end of your line was a great equalizer as far as these men were concerned.  Perhaps the most memorable experience took place when Charleston Heston came to fish with several of his friends.  We did not end up with Mr. Heston in our boat, but we were together for our shore lunch and were able to brag across the water when we caught more fish than were caught in his boat.  It was a wonderful day! 

Our favorite fish to eat was the walleye or sauger.   Of course we ate all of kinds of fish that we caught except for suckers and northern pike.  The bass were more fun to catch and more plentiful.  We would occasionally catch a nice rainbow trout in the 4-6 pound class.  They were nothing special to us but put up a good fight.  I remember hooking one when we had a guest with us.  My trout raced from side to side in the river and jumped several times.  Our guest was a self-proclaimed trout man.  He marveled at the size and fight of the fish.  I was having a blast but did not seem overly excited about the 5 or 6 pound rainbow.  After some time I brought the fish to the boat and my father missed it with the net and the fish got away.  It was no big deal as far as dad and I were concerned but our guest was beside himself.  He ranted and raved about how shameful it was to lose such a nice fish.  About an hour later our guest also hooked a nice rainbow about the same size as the one I lost.  He played the fish well and kept up a verbal description of everything the fish was doing and how he was countering its every move.  His excitement grew as the fish got close to the boat.  I grabbed the net and stood ready to net his fish.  He looked at me and asked for the net.  He wanted to net the fish himself.  I reassured him that I knew how to net a fish and told him that he had his hands full just getting his fish close to the boat.  He told us then that he wanted to net his own fish because with our cavalier attitude about trout that he wouldn’t be surprised if I wouldn’t knock the fish off on purpose because 1. I had just lost a similar fish and would be jealous if he landed his.  Or 2.  I didn’t care enough about catching such a magnificent trout and that I lacked the proper respect for the fish so my efforts wouldn’t be up to par.   

I could see that he was serious and ended up giving him the net.  We watched with interest as he worked the fish up to the boat.  He carefully slid the net in the direction of the fish only to have the fish make one final dash under the net where the hook caught and the fish was gone!  If there ever was a broken hearted man, our guest was one.  He sat dazed.  He talked to himself.  He shook has head.  One or two unkind words were spoken.  I even seem to remember a cuss word or two.  He was a broken man that had trouble getting back into the fishing spirit for the rest of the trip.   

Dad and I frequently told the story to others and laughed at all die-hard trout fishermen.  After more than 40 years of trout fishing myself, I now have a little deeper understanding of what the man had experienced that day.  I can relate to his loss now considering the hundreds of times that I have messed up and lost a trout of my own.