Missouri River Trout Spey Camp 2025

Words by Greg Thomas

THIS HOUSE OF FLY FISH CAMP COULD PRODUCE THE LARGEST BROWN TROUT OF YOUR LIFE

First time I tried trout spey, I didn’t even know I was trout speyin’.

Instead, I was simply throwing a single-hand five-weight and swinging size-16 and 18 olive soft-hackles on Montana’s Gallatin River, matching a wad of caddis pupa ascending to the surface. Every riffle was loaded with caddis and every trout in the river was out the pools and in the choppy, swift water to take part in the feast. They weren’t big, just some beautiful 12-to 14-inch wild rainbows and browns, but what they lacked in size they made up for in aggressive takes.

I don’t know how many fish I caught that afternoon and evening, probably 25 to 30 or more, which can happen on the Gallatin when things go off. It was some memorable fishing, but I didn’t even think about the possibility of matching other hatches in the same way.

It would have made sense, as most aquatic insects, including all those appealing mayflies, ascend to the surface to hatch. But after the Gallatin event I just went back to fishing other rivers like I normally would, tossing streamers, or dead-drifting  nymphs and dry flies with that single-hand stick.

I got wind of the trout spey thing in 2017 or so when I started working with the boys at The Fly Project. They were into spey rods and swinging for steelhead, but they were also delving into the idea of “trout spey” at that time. It made sense: you can bang away on the water all day for a steelhead and come up empty-handed as many times as not, but on the big-name trout streams it would be rare to go home without a few trout to your credit. Plus, you didn’t have to wait for steelhead season to pick up a spey rod, which meant you could practice your craft all year long, mastering your anchor, not cutting that corner, working that lever with your low hand, and stopping where you should on that forward cast. And you could do so while catching fish. Whoa, novel idea.

Still, I didn’t embrace trout spey right away. I was traveling a lot and getting to throw for those steelhead in juicy places. But I pared down the travel side of things and that put me in a “spey-deficient” position. That led to buying a two-hand five-weight and a two-hand six and starting to fish spey during those caddis hatches. After that I started throwing streamers, first swinging them just like I would for steelhead . . . and I hardly caught a thing. A few, yes, but not what I expected to do.

I thought it over and talked with Fred Telleen, who is part of the Fly Project team and the manager of The Trout Shop in Craig, Montana. Telleen is a trout spey pioneer and ties numerous fly patterns specially for trout spey, including the Bam Bam, the Flash-N-Grab, and the Mini Montana Intruder and the Bald Eagle.  I explained my woes and he told me, “Put some action on it.”

That advice paid off. I started casting, swinging and imparting some action— darts here, twitches there, some jiggy stuff when it seemed right, always letting that sucker sink in the holes before swimming it out. I still don’t crush in trout spey, but I catch some, and even some means way more than I get on steelhead water in the average day.

I even packed the trout spey rod to southeastern British Columbia one year, looking for bull trout on the Columbia River. It was the same there; swing like you would for steel and just watch your buddy land them. Or give it some action and join in on the fun. We were searching for a 20-pounder on that trip and the guide knew there were fish like that on the prowl, scarfing down on blazing-red fall run kokanee salmon. But going into the last day of the trip we hadn’t managed anything larger than seven pounds or so. To stack the odds against us, that final day brought snow and sleet and heavy wind. Basically, it was a brutal October day and my attention had drifted; I understood that hundreds of miles of treacherous roadway lay between me and my home in Missoula, and I’d have to cover them the following day.

Just before we called it quits, I made a cast, concentrated enough to impart some action, and felt the grab. The fish took off to the middle of the river and held in steady current, behaving a little different. And it did turn out to be different, not the 20-pounder the guide desperately wanted, but a wicked looking buck that bent the net-scale to 14 pounds. That’s a nice bull trout anywhere.

I can’t tell you everything you need to know about trout spey, but I know where you can get answers--at House of Fly’s 2025 Missouri River Trout Spey Camp, which runs on two sets of dates this November: November 5-9 and November 12-16. Fred Tellen will be your host, and you’ll fish and hang out with several guides who also bleed trout spey.

Trout Spey Camp takes place during prime time for the Missouri’s fall run brown trout. The big boys hide under the ledges most of the year, but they come out during fall and chase the hens. Beginning in September and October and stretching through November, they slam all sorts of swung flies. The Missouri’s browns average around 18 inches, but you could, on any given cast, sink a hook into a legitimate 22 to 24-inch fish. You’ll get some solid rainbows, too, and all these fish are in the best condition of the year, having gorged on productive hatches for the past seven months. You’ll get to fish the Missouri, guided, for three straight days and you’ll spend mornings and evenings at the House of Fly’s Trout Lodge, which is a killer fly-fishing hub with comfortable trout-themed rooms and a private restaurant and bar called The Hub Saloon. The dinners are awesome, and the drinks are divine. You just sit back, relax, fish your tail off doing trout spey all day, and then rinse and repeat. Um, did I say this is a deal. Three days guided fishing. Killer loaner gear rigged up and ready to roll. All food and (within reason) drinks included, along with some very comfortable lodging. Price: $1,995 per person.

You may not come away from the camp saying, “Trout spey is the only way,” but I bet you’ll add a rod to your quiver so you can pick and choose your poison throughout the year—trout spey for caddis and winter swinging on the Mo’ and elsewhere, that single-hander and streamers or dries out of the driftboat, then the big two-hander when you head to steelhead water . . . hoping to get one.

Regardless, Craig offers a nice, relaxed pace in November and ya’ never know: as mentioned, you could come away with your spey cast set on autopilot and the best brown trout of your life in the bottom of a net.