A Monster Small Stream Brown

The last time I caught a wild brown trout of 20 inches or better, I was on the lower reaches of the Beaverkill in June of 2017. Since then, I've caught a bunch of 17, 18, and 19 inches. Good fish. Great fish, really. But not 20 inchers. I caught bigger wild rainbows, actually, including a 20" in Pennsylvania and a rainbow of a lifetime at night in Montana. And I got some giant broodstock, but those don't count. Big browns have given me the slip for a couple years. I've had some on and lost them, I've missed a bunch, and I've seen a bunch. But I couldn't get one to hand. Were I as trout focused as I was four years ago I probably would be catching big browns more. But I've been fishing for a lot of other things. I regret it less than none. I'm not a trout bum, I'm a fish bum.
I had some expectations of where, when, and how I'd catch my next wild brown over 20 inches. And none of them were right.

In a plunge pool below a small roll dam on a stretch of small stream that had appeared troutless until just a few weeks ago, an old fish made a critical error.

The full moon and relatively clear skies both Friday and Saturday night hampered the night bite on the bigger waters. I slugged it out until 12:30 on Friday and then just gave in and spotlighted tessellated darters and juvenile white suckers, which was a blast, and I will write about that in the next post. On Saturday I decided to fish the streams I had done incredibly well in the weekend before last (11 Hours) in the evening hours. Given that these streams hadn't been fishing well at all, at least for trout, any time I'd tried them in a good number of years, I wasn't willing to let a good thing slip away. I wanted to enjoy this while it lasted. I brought out the 5wt, and fished my confidence fly, the Ausable Ugly. I was promptly into the same small browns that I'd found to be so abundant last time.
And while I found the brown trout, the ticks found me. This is shaping up to be a really bad tick year.

After catching that one fish and missing another of equal size, I continued down to the stream the tributary feeds, and found there that the bite was just as good as it had been before, despite the tributary having been much less loaded. There were tons of trout. There were trout in just about every bit of good holding water. It reminded me of Spring Creek... just trout everywhere.

 I had it set in mind to go downstream only as far as a hole in which I had lost a substantial fish in last time before turning around and fishing some water I hadn't yet hit this spring. I got to the spot, covered the secondary lies and caught a smaller brown, then made the difficult cast into a gap between branches, landing the fly hard because I knew the fish was upstream of where I could drop the fly and it would have to be a "lateral line take". If the fish didn't feel the fly, the fish wouldn't know it was there. The presentation did exactly what it should have. The fish came out, spotted the fly, ate it, and I stuck her. It was a great small stream wild brown and a phenomenal fight.

I hiked my way upriver to the new water, skipping a bunch that didn't provide the kind of habitat trout need, and popped back down into the stream at this great long run:

Three fish to hand and two small ones missed in there. Phenomenal! I hadn't fished this water as much as the stretches downstream, but wen I did it was even more bleak. I still don't fully understand where these fish all came from.

I picked pockets as I continued upstream, and like below, there were trout just about everywhere there should have been trout. I was missing most of them because they were tiny, but the were there and that's all I wanted to know. It didn't take long for me to catch lucky number 13. Number 13 was brookie! From that point on I caught 1 brookie to every 3 or 4 browns, which made me even more happy.

I had caught my 28th trout when I got to the small dam, a spot that I'd fished twice over the winter and was amazed didn't produce fish. It was such a classic spot. I knew I was going to catch something out of it this time. Had expectation that what proceeded was a likely scenario.

Right in the tailout I missed a small fish. Directly in line with it and four feet upstream I hooked up and a powerful, large-spotted fish of 11 inches came to hand. I should have brought this up, but all of these fish were really fired up. I've caught wild brown trout in New York, Vermont, Pennsylvania, Montana, and of course Connecticut, but pound for pound these ones were beating trout I've caught everywhere else except PA limestoners, which they were easily tied with. These fish threw down. Wild fights.

After letting that fish go I worked the heart of the pool. Nothing. I was a little surprised about that. A solid fish in a tertiary lie and nothing in the secondary? Of course the primary holding spots in any good roll dam plunge are where the current has undercut the structure, right under the plunge. That's where I cast next, and I wasn't at all surprised when another solid fish took and charged right under the dam. But I was very surprised by what happened next: That guy turned tail and came flying out from under the dam at full speed, coming right at me. I just barely kept tension, but the fish stayed on. What would cause a fish to make such a move? 

Enter Dave. 

Dave is the name I've given to the monster of a small stream wild brown trout that came out from under the dam chasing my hooked fish. As soon as I saw it I swore out loud and went stalk still. I moved only my lower arms and the rod, hoping I could land what now looked like a rather small fish without the monster seeing me. The smaller trout jumped over and over trying to escape the big cannibal right on it's tail. Eventually the big fish calmly slid back up into the white water and I landed, photographed, and released the hooked fish. 

The object of Dave's interest.

Without much thought, I lopped my leader down to an adequately stout length and diameter and tied on a five inch articulated streamer that didn't look entirely unlike a small brown trout. I made four casts to the spot where I thought the big fish had come from. Nothing. The fifth cast was made further to the left. I had almost given up on that cast, the fly was already well out of the good zone, when the monster came charging downstream out of the white-water and slammed the streamer. I strip-set hard and he was on. The first move was just what I'd expect under the circumstances. He wanted to go back to his home under the dam. But I had other plans. I jumped into the hole and angled my rod low and away from the fish, the top two feet of it under water at that time. I was surprised by how easily I pulled him back out, but I also don't think he had fully grasped what was going on yet. The fish rolled and shook near the surface, and I worked him right over to me. I decided I should let the fish know it needed to work harder. I might have landed it right then and there but I knew he was way too green, and such a fast landing can end badly for both anger and fish. So instead of trying to tail him I gave in a little slap on the tail. 

He responded accordingly. He tried to get back home again but I stopped him. he then spent the remaining time tail walking all over the pool like  a complete maniac. 

Then I got him. 

This was a small stream beast. An absolute stud. CT small streams don't produce trout like this often, and I've been lucky enough to catch two of them. A small stream wild trout like this deserves the utmost respect. To kill one like it is sinful and will bring bad karma. Handle them gently, admire them, and speak of them reverently. And, of course, give them a good name. 

Dave

Dave measured 22 inches, from the butt to 3 and a half inches past the 'p' in 2pc on my rod. What an awesome, stunningly beautiful, impressively gnarly trout. He was just about exactly the same size as Grandfather was when I caught him (Grandfather), but from a stream about half the size as my home water. Dave is probably at least 12 years old. Had that wise old fish not come out after the smaller fish I highly doubt I would have caught him. That was his critical mistake. Luckily for Dave, I know how special and valuable fish like him are. 

It has been so, so long since I touched a brown trout like that. Hopefully I won't have to fish nearly as long for the next. This spring's fishing has been probably my best ever on a lot of levels. Hell, this whole year has been great so far. I should have known it would be when my first fish of the year was a 38 inch snook. Hopefully my good fortune persists. 

33 trout to hand and one 22 incher. Something special is happening in that little stream. I will be back soon. 

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