Fly Fishing the Miracle Mile for BIG TROUT

Westbound & Wild: Episode 4 – Miracle Mile

After days of chasing fish and losing giants, we finally made it to the Miracle Mile in Wyoming. The air was cold and sharp, the river wide and powerful. Drake and Dakota had already disappeared downstream somewhere, and I was making my way down the boat ramp where drift boats launched into the current.

The Famous Mile

The Miracle Mile is one of those legendary stretches of water that every trout angler dreams about. Locals say it can be incredible or humbling, sometimes both on the same day. The flow was heavy, the bottom slick with grass and algae, and every step took focus.

I hooked my first fish early, an eighteen-inch rainbow that came out of nowhere and hammered the streamer. It jumped several times before spitting the hook, but it was a good sign. On my next cast I hooked another, smaller but solid. This one stayed pinned just long enough for a quick photo before swimming back into the current.

Finally, I was on the board after four long days.

Answered Prayers

Before those hookups I had prayed for guidance on what fly to use. It may sound small, but in that moment it mattered. My following casts ended in trees, and I took it as a sign to switch patterns. The next hole I fished produced a take almost instantly. It felt like a small reminder that sometimes you just need to slow down, listen, and trust.

That black streamer did the trick. The fish hit with power, and for a moment I could feel the entire week of frustration lifting.

Holding On

The wind howled through the canyon as I kept working the water. I lost another rainbow, then missed a brown that hit like a freight train. My hand slipped off the line mid-strip set, and the fish exploded out of the water. I saw it clearly before the line went slack. Eighteen to twenty inches of pure gold and red, gone as fast as it appeared.

Still, every loss felt less like defeat and more like progress. After the heartbreaks of Fremont Canyon, even short fights were enough to keep the fire going.

Small Victories

Later that afternoon I finally landed a brown trout. It was small, maybe 8-10" inches, but I had been waiting for it all week. The spots glowed like copper under the sun.

We kept moving upstream until the dam came into view. Drake spotted a few trout laid up near the ridge and managed to slide down the bank to them. One of them took a dry fly, and he brought it to hand before releasing it back into the clear water.

Reflections

The wind never stopped. The cold bit through my jacket. But standing there with the river around me, I realized the Miracle Mile had lived up to its name. It was not about numbers or size. It was about finally finding rhythm again.

Tomorrow we would begin the long drive back to Florida. Maybe we would fish one more spot before sunrise, maybe not. Either way, the trip had already given what it was meant to.

Watch the Episode

Fly fishing Wyoming’s famous Miracle Mile. Big rainbows, buttery browns, and long-earned redemption on the fly.