What a week in Vermont. Unstable weather patterns at it's best. Beginning of the week started with snow. Ended of week brought a heatwave. And in between a melting pot of wind, lightning strikes and bucketfuls of precipitation. My six day trip to the mountains had been planned for months but the cauldron was full and I was getting to my boiling point. I followed the bizarre weather for over a week leading up to the trip, the final days and even hours prior continually changing my plans. Finally, I said to myself "just go man". And boy I'm glad I did.
Although the six day trip was cut to three, I still feel fortunate. After weeks of coordinating, I finally managed to meet up with a friend and showed him some wonderful water. I also had the opportunity to meet a new friend who is as passionate about trout as I am. And then of course there is "THE" fish. More to follow on that one...
Friday found the lower river high and silted up. Still, Mark and I felt the need to give it some time and explore some new water. In spite of it all, we did manage a fish or two including a wild 16" brown trout that I nymphed up. But as the morning went on, the clarity decreased and so we packed it in, had a quick lunch then drove south an hour to fish another watershed that I knew offered better water levels. For three hours we fished, mostly rigged with tandem nymphs and managed 5 healthy rainbows in the 16-18" class including one fish that pushed the 19" mark. By 7pm we called it quits and headed our way back through the winding fields, streams and mountains as the sun set.
Saturday morning at 7am found us back on our wild river. Water levels had dropped some and the clarity was improving. We started further up river where we found the water clearer and cold. Although Mark had fished this river for over a dozen years it was new water to him. I sensed he thought he found heaven. We landed 9-10 wild rainbows in the 12-14" range on brown stones, hares ears and caddis pupae.
By 2:30 Mark was ready for a break. The temps were soaring into the high 80's. While I had been wet wading, Mark had been in full wader mode. The heat and gear had sucked the energy from Mark and he was ready for some down time. I pressed on searching more water.
Around 4:00pm I decided to work another stretch further up river. I'd heard talk that a few, large rainbows and browns had been taken in the upper reaches over the past few weeks on high water and knew this one stretch had a couple nice deep pools worth working. The pools were a hike to get into and meant wading a quarter mile or so up river against a pretty solid flow. Still the thought of a big fish intrigued me so I slowly took my time working every run and riffle that held 2 feet or more of water.
When I hit the big pool, it was around 5:30pm. The water was clear, cold and deep. The air was still, the sound only silence as the sun began to set at the mountains crest. Shadows began to form on the inner portion of the pool. I strengthened and lengthened my leader, added weight and began casting across river to the far bank where the flow was greatest. My pattern landed solidly, quickly sinking as I mended line and began the swing. As the line began to straighten, I slowly stripped it back an inch at a time. I repeated this process this again and again, each time taking one step down river working my way deeper and deeper into the pools belly. On my sixth or so cast I felt a slight hesitation on my short strip and subconsciously set the hook.
There was weight there. Then head jerks followed by movement of the line. Then the line ran clear across to the furthest point of the pool This was a fish of size. And he was clearly in control. I quickly understood my job was to simply hang on and manage my hook set as best I could. I attempted to keep
moderate, even tension on my line as he fought me. If I could manage this, I could slowly wear him down.
It was more than three minutes before I first actually saw the fish and over five minutes before I my first attempt to land him. On my third attempt, it worked though he barely could fit in my net.
Seeing that fish and and being hit by the reality of what had just happened was a moment I will never forget. Its a feeling I have had on possibly 5 or 6 occasions throughout my fishing years. The wild rainbow was a slab,over 20" from his kyped lower jaw to the tip of his tail. Black spots that ran from his back to belly and throughout his tail. The red on his gill plate and the 18" length and 4" depth of his red streak. And he was thick. I could not get over how large his eyes appeared to me. His under fins were white at the tips and he appeared quite healthy.
At first I felt so fortunate, then I felt honored and proud of the moment. I stood there, staring at him in my net attempting to take it all in. Then I looked around as if to take photo in my mind of this moment. The setting sun, the smell of fields, the quiet flowing water and only the sounds of crickets chirps as the dusk of evening approached. It was just me, the river and this beautiful fish.
In that moment the feeling overwhelmed me. The feeling of knowing that something greater was looking over me in that moment. Something that knew how important this was to my soul and my life for that matter. .
As I revived him, I said "thank you" and could not help but wonder what his life had been like, what happens in his world and the obstacle and challenges he must endure each day and night below the surface. And how he came to survive so long.
As he gathered strength, I gently released his tail knowing this was a beautiful creature I would never see again. I said goodbye and watched him slowly swim off along the gravel bar to the deeper depths of his home. And then I thought of my home and my family.
