As a new member to the forum, I didn’t want my first post be to viewed as too braggadocios. I have noted that many members prefer not to disclose the locations of their fishing success so I attempted to keep that discretion and courtesy intact.
I thought it would be appropriate to simply post the photo and let the thread flow on its own. I would be glad to supply more information if requested.
The backstory is almost as good as the fish. I’ve been fly fishing 50 years and the first time I learned to fly fish was in New Zealand in the ’70's. I now live in San Francisco and spend my summers in Montana in a log house I built on the Big Hole River. I just love to fish. I’m not always hunting for big fish, I just get a kick out of fooling Mother Nature with some feathers and fur.
My Buddy and I went to New Zealand and hired a “Rookie” guide. It was his first year working as a professional guide, but this kid knew how to fish. We already had a great day with my Buddy and I alternating on spotted fish. We had landed over a dozen beautiful Browns averaging 6-8 pounds. I even caught two on my “Home tied” Cicada pattern. But most of the fish were feeding on nymphs, tiny size 18 Mayfly nymphs varying in colors, but not size. We fished using the traditional Kiwi lambswool indicator.
We were finishing up and driving back, when our guide said, let’s try this spot that I’ve never fished. We were searching the river walking a high bank studying the water. The river was ultra clear but it was a big, wide churning river. We scanned the softer water on the edges and we stopped dead in our tracks when we saw what looked to be a LOG downstream behind a washing machine sized rock. It was not a log, it was a huge Brown trout and was in a lazy feeding pattern, swaying side to side behind the buffered current created by the rock.
As we laid on our bellies watching in amazement, we let our adrenaline rush subside and finally got the wits to develop a strategy to attempt to catch this prize. We must have spend 30 minutes watching, supposing what if’s, and finally got brave enough to attempt the catch. We had already rehearsed our fight plan and strategy if the fish ran downstream into the rapids, which it eventually did.
It was my buddy’s turn to be up, but the river conditions and brush choked bank put a right handed caster at a disadvantage. It was a 40 foot cast into the wind and we couldn’t afford to spook this fish. Luckily, for me, I cast with either hand, so my left handed cast gave me the green light.
The guide and I had to backtrack 100 yards to be able to get down to the water without disturbing the fish. My Buddy remained on the high bank to spot for us. After we got to within the 40 foot mark, to the rock we had pinpointed while studying from above, the fish looked like a submarine even down at water level. You could still see him moving within a 12” swath eating nymphs. Not once did we see him rise up to eat a natural mayfly.
We stuck to our plan of using a size 18 nymph with an olive, grey color and black bead head. This had been our go-to fly all day.
It was like a baseball pitcher working the strike zone to a batter. First pitch was intentionally high and outside. Then I zipped one low and inside, no take or even head turn on either cast. Then I went for the strike-out pitch high and tight. I cast over the rock and let the current suck the fly around the rock and right into the feeding pocket. He eased toward the fly and he was on. I didn’t even have to watch the indicator as the water was so clear I could see his slightest head movements. He immediately ran cross stream, which was 50 yards and split by a rushing tongue of rapids. I managed to work him back to our side but he was not done. His next rush took us downstream toward the rapids that we feared. We followed our strategy precisely skipping down river on predesignated rocks.
The battle concluded with a swift and accurate netting. I don't’ know who was the most excited as our guide screamed, “This fish put me on the map!” He meant he now had credence among his fellow guides with this huge fish. We weighted him and the scale unbelievably topped out a 11 1/2 pounds. I even have a close up picture of the scale reading as verification.
Summer is starting so soon and I will begin my fishing migration to Montana. I have journeyed to Wyoming many times to the S. Plat, the Wind and the Snake Rivers where we have been know to throw 6” streamers to the bank from drift boats. I love it all!
Ron
