Well, this one had been on my list for far too long. Talbingo Dam, about half an hour out of Tumut in the northern foothills of the Snowy Mountains. It’s home to both rainbow and brown trout, it’s tucked into proper gorge country, and the water is thought to be the clearest of any dam in Australia.
I’d been fishing for 10 or 15 years and had somehow never heard of this place until recently, which made me wonder how many other spots like this are still out there for us everyday anglers to find. So, I loaded up the boat with a small box of ultralight Shimano spin tackle, the Dometic for a mid-morning brekkie and went down to give it a red-hot crack. I didn’t tick off the rainbow that I had come for, but I did land one of the rarest fish in New South Wales right out of the gate — and a bonus species I’d never caught before.
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Where I was fishing
Talbingo Dam sits in the Snowy Valleys region of southern New South Wales, about a half-hour drive from Tumut. If you’ve never been down there, picture sheer gorge country dropping straight into a massive body of water, with timber lines coming all the way down to the edge. It’s eerie how quiet this place is — you can hear a waterfall running into the dam from a hundred metres away.
The water is the headline though, with five, six, even seven metres of visibility. I could see the tree below my boat all the way to the bottom in 10 metres of water. That’s gin clear by anyone’s standard, and it completely changes how you have to fish. I’ll come back to that.
I spent the morning poking around the little arms and coves of the dam, working the edges, around fallen timber and near any inflow points where small waterfalls were bringing fresh, oxygenated water in.
The gear I had with me
The whole point of this trip was keeping it light. Ultralight spin tackle is the perfect tool for shut-down trout in clear water — think small lures, light leaders and finesse presentations. Here’s exactly what was on the boat:
Light braid mainline with a long fluorocarbon leader
Shimano Squidgy Glimma 90mm soft plastic (the lure that did the damage)
Shimano Bantam Enber Flash Boost 60mm hard body for working the edges
1/20oz and 1/16oz jig heads with size 1 hooks
Mako GT polarised sunglasses (non-negotiable in water this clear)
Shimano sling bag to keep the whole kit tidy
Dometic Recon 16L cooler for the catch and the cold ones
Dometic Cook 3 Pro Deluxe for bacon and eggs on the island
The lure that made the difference deserves its own paragraph. The Shimano Squidgy Glimma 90mm. It’s a baitfish-style soft plastic with a fairly plain barrel-shaped body (looks like a traditional jerk shad) but the magic is in the tail. Little glowing tassels off the back that sparkle, flash, and flicker up and down in the water. On a slow retrieve it looks more like a butterfly or a fly than a baitfish, which matters because brown trout are notorious for sipping bugs off the top. I’d flogged a couple of other plastics for 90 minutes without a bite. Second cast with the Glimma, I was hooked up. Take from that what you will.
For working the edges and any harder structure I had a Shimano Bantam Enber Flash Boost 60mm tied on the second rod. The Flash Boost system has a little internal reflector that catches light even when you pause the lure — perfect for water this clear where the fish often need an extra second to commit.
I rigged the Glimma on a 1/20oz jig head in the shallows and a 1/16oz when I needed to get down a bit deeper. That’s it. No spinners, no metal vibes, no swimbaits. The whole kit fits in the Shimano sling bag, which is exactly what ultralight fishing should be.
The technique: stealth over everything
Fishing water this clear changes the whole game. The first lesson came fast: if you can see your lure six metres down, the fish can absolutely see you. I learnt that the hard way on the first proper fish of the day. I spotted a big brown cruising along the timber, threw a lure at him, and he came right out, circled it, had a look… and turned his nose up. I was too close. He’d clocked me before I’d even cast.
So I changed my whole approach. Cut the electric motor back to about 15%. Crept along the edges. Cast well upwind so the lure drifted in naturally. When I could see a fish, I’d back off the spot, give it some space, and cast from further away than I would normally.
A few other little things that helped:
Work the edges and timber. Trout are territorial and sit tight to structure. If you find one in a bay there’ll likely be others around, but they don’t share — move 50 or 100 metres along and try again.
Look for inflow points. Small waterfalls and creek mouths bring oxygen and food into the dam, and the fish will hold near them.
Use your ears. On a still morning you can literally hear a trout rise: the slurp of a fish sipping a bug off the top. That tells you exactly where they’re feeding.
Slow retrieves. Pause the lure, let it sink, twitch it. Don’t burn it back to the boat. Trout want to inspect before they commit.
When the bite finally came, it came fast. I dropped the tasselled plastic near a little island with a waterfall running in behind it, gave it a slow hop and the rod loaded up. Now, brown trout are notorious for spitting hooks, and on ultralight gear with a tiny size 1 hook, the only thing you’ve got going for you is constant pressure and a forgiving drag. I held my breath for the whole fight.
The fish: a proper New South Wales brown trout
When the colour came up I had to look twice. I’d come down here expecting to catch a rainbow. A mate who lives in the area had told me before the trip that browns are incredibly rare at Talbingo. I’d only ever landed about three browns in my life and one of those was in Tasmania.
To pin a proper New South Wales brown trout on a soft plastic, on ultralight gear, in water this clear — I was stoked! That’s what this whole series is about.
Brown trout were brought over from England about 130 years ago for recreational fishing. Back then they were a class fish: fly fishing for trout meant you were high up in society. I reckon they’ve well and truly earned their citizenship since. They’re spectacular looking with that mottled gold and bronze colouring, they fight harder than rainbows, they’re more acrobatic, and they’re more aggressive. Holding one for a photo is a battle of its own — they’re incredibly slimy and slippery.
Quick snap, quick revive, back in the water. Job done.
Key learnings and takeaways
A few things to take into your own trip if you’re thinking about giving it a crack:
Match your approach to the clarity of the water. Gin clear water means the fish see you long before you see them. Cut your speed, keep your distance, and cast further than you think you need to.
Change lures if something isn’t working. Ninety minutes with a paddle tail and zero bites, then one cast with a small tasselled baitfish imitation and the line came tight. Rotate through the box and trust your instincts.
Look for inflow points. Waterfalls and creek mouths bring food and oxygen and trout sit nearby.
Work the edges, not the middle. Don’t waste time bombing open bays. Fish are tight to structure: timber, rock and sandy drop-offs.
Use light gear. 1/20 and 1/16oz jig heads with size 1 hooks were the sweet spot. The smaller the presentation, the more natural it looks.
Listen as much as you look. A trout rise on a still morning is one of the best bite indicators you’ll get.
Be patient. I had nothing for the first 90 minutes, and I’d started to lose a bit of confidence. One lure change later, the day completely turned. Stick with it!
The bonus fish – and a redfin you’ve got to keep
After the brown I pulled into a little island for some bacon and eggs on the Dometic. Beautiful spot for a feed. Got back into it after lunch and second cast pulled up a chunky redfin perch — my first one ever, which I wasn’t expecting at all out of a place like this.
Worth a quick PSA on those if you’re not familiar. Redfin are an introduced species in New South Wales and you’re not legally allowed to release them. They’re classed as a noxious pest because they breed quickly and outcompete native species. The upside is they’re outstanding eating: sweet, white-fleshed and easy to fillet. So, if you catch one, take it home, cook it up. I did exactly that on the way back.
It also got me thinking — I came here for rainbows, ticked off a brown I didn’t expect, and picked up a bonus species I’d never caught. That’s why we fish new places. There’s always a spot you haven’t fished. Go find one!
Keen to give this one a go?
You can stock up on all the gear I used in store at BCF or online at bcf.com.au. If you’ve never tried ultralight spin tackle on shut-down trout, give it a red-hot crack. You’ll learn more about finesse fishing in one morning at a place like Talbingo than you will in six months elsewhere. And I’ll be back to tick off that rainbow — that’s a promise.