Smith had insisted that this river held big trout. And so I made the trip. With a hundred things to do in a busy week, it would have been easy to win the internal argument to fish closer to home. But another part of me had surrendered to the explorer, to the seeker, to the stubborn believer that adventure is more important than restful sleep — and much more exciting than spending the day cleaning the truck or organizing the garage.

So there I was. Staring at an unknown river that was a little up and perfectly greenish grey. The crisp fall day was cloudy and dim with the threat of rain — the kind of weather that most people groan about, but fishermen like us love to wake up to. In truth, the weather forecast was one of the driving factors to get me here. And on a Saturday morning, with no one else around, I was trophy hunting — hoping for a chance at just one big fish.

The lack of structure caught my eye. Sure, every river has its bends, its midstream rocks, its shelves and gravel bars. But aside from the rocks, there wasn’t much to hang your fly on. Really, it was the absence of wood that stood out to me. Recently, a once-in-a-century flood had come through this area — that’s right, every one-hundred years, said the weatherman. And a careful look at the banks showed that many of the logs which had surely provided in-stream structure just a few weeks ago were now pushed up and strewn about in the floodplain, ready to decay and disintegrate into soil or be lifted by the next great flood — to be returned to the river and the trout once again.

These are the kinds of things you notice with age, with time, with experience. Seasons sewn into years teach all of us to slow down a bit and observe. And sometimes we learn more by seeing than by fishing.

But eventually, I had enough of all that. And I decided to target one of my favorite types of water for big fish. It’s what I call a special bucket. My friend, Matt Grobe, called them potholes when he first pointed these features out to me. And as I waded into the water, I had my eyes on two prime potholes, just ten feet apart.

But what was I looking for? I’ll tell you . . .

READ: Troutbitten | Where to Find Big Trout | Part Three: The Special Buckets

Invisible? Nah

Every angler, any hiker or passerby, can read the peaks. Everyone notices the whitewater. And it’s often obvious that the whitecaps are created by rocks that lie just upstream. Less understood are the minor waves, the rises and peaks in the current surface that roll downstream, mix together and create what we mostly call runs or riffles.

It’s the rocks. That’s what creates those waves. Almost always, rocks of the riverbed push water up and create a wave above. At the depths we most often fish for river trout (I’ll say here, under four feet) even a foot-tall rock creates a decent wave on the surface. And that’s pretty easy to understand.

Photo by Josh Darling

Now, perhaps less obvious and less understood are the flat spots within the riffles, or the flatter spots within a glide. These are the telltale signs of a pothole below.

Just as the taller rock creates a surface wave, the pothole, bucket or depression in the riverbed has a corresponding feature on the surface. It’s a flatter, calmer piece of water — smoother than the surrounding surface currents. Is it harder to recognize? Sure it is. It’s also not as reliable of a sign. But quite often, if you find a calm piece of water, surrounded by mixed currents and minor waves, a pothole lies below.

Be careful what you’re reading, though. The stall, or slower piece of water that lies just downstream of every rock, is not the same thing as a pothole — not at all. In fact, that slower stall is often shallower than the surrounding water. And yet, on the surface it can look very similar to the potholes that we’re looking for. How can you tell the difference? Fish more, and give it time. Look critically. See what the foam does as it glides over a pothole. Look at the slightly different character of calmer water over a bucket vs calmer water in a rock stall. You’ll see it. And no, its not the kind of thing that a picture can show very well. After you fish something that you believe is a pothole. Go walk through it, because that’s a foolproof way of knowing the truth.

So, fish these slicks. Trust that trout are there. And know that some of the best fish in the river call these potholes home.

READ: Troutbitten | Every Rock Creates Five Seams

Yeah, It didn’t happen . . .

I should mention . . . I fished Smith’s recommended river for about seven hours that day. And I had a shot at two good fish. Both were in the buckets. I moved one on a streamer, and I lost a nice trout on a stonefly fished with inch-long strips to break up a dead drift.

On the long drive home, I wondered if targeting the potholes all day was the best bet. But I won that argument with myself too. With very little wood or undercut banks, the rocks were my best features to target. I moved efficiently from one pothole to the next and stayed with my plan all day. I also had my chances — which, when big fish hunting, is a secondary success.

If nothing else, I refined my eyes for seeing the potholes and finding the special buckets. I got better at reading water, and I learned a new piece of river. That’s a good day.

Fish hard, friends.

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Enjoy the day.
Domenick Swentosky
T R O U T B I T T E N
domenick@troutbitten.com