Emergency Landing

December 30, I caught the biggest trout of my 29 years of fly fishing, rounding out 2013 to be a great year on the fly for this guy. I may have hooked trout this size, but I've never landed them. The story of landing this trout is the best part of this fish tale, and it was only possible with a little help from my friends (cue Joe Cocker and the Wonder Years).

I had taken two high school guys up to the Davidson River with hopes of putting them on some big fish. Atticus is an experienced fly fisherman who is passionate about the sport. Hayden is a little newer to fly fishing, and was breaking in his new rod, reel, and chest pack he had just received for Christmas.  The biggest hope was to get Hayden on a good fish. After about an hour and a half with no strikes, I was ready to move to a different piece of river.  As I was trying to convince the fellas to move down stream, we noticed a few takes on top, and thought a little hatch of midges was emerging. Two cast later I set the hook on a huge brown. I immediately asked Atticus to grab my net saying "this will be the biggest fish of my life!"

I was fishing three flies on a four weight, all on 6x tippet. My subconsious told me there was no way I was going to land this seemingly 24+ inch trout.  She ran me down into the deep hole below the run I hooked her in, then proceeded to look for every rock and log she could wrap my leader around. I was confident she would stay in the safety of the deep pool, but after about 5 minutes, she made a run down stream towards a long set of shallow rapids full or rocks, limbs, and debris.  I had to duck a fallen tree and run my rod tip under a submerged limb to keep from getting wrapped up. The big hen settled in a little piece of pocket water just above a log jam, 60 yards downstream from where I hooked her. Atticus suggested we spook it back up towards the big pool to narrow the variables of landing She-Brown the Wonder Trout.  Super idea. We got behind her, spooked her, commenced dodging logs and limbs like a fly rod clad ninja back upstream, and sighed in relief when she entered the tail out of the big hole.

The trout proceeded to dive 10 to 12 feet deep multiple times, without seeming to tire,  causing all kinds of strain on the 6x tippet, and creating a massive tight belly in the fly line bending under the weight of fish and current. She nearly had me down to my backing a couple of times. As I thought the trout was finally beginning to tire, it headed towards a couple of small fallen trees at the far side of the pool which  I had managed to move the fish away from early.  Maybe I was overconfident at this point, because i didn't worry, but the fish slowly moved in amongst the many limbs of the submerged trees as I applied pressure trying to coax it in the opposite direction. It slowly writhed in amongst the labyrinth of limbs, like a Katherine Zeta through the laser field in Entrapment, then the pressure I applied grew static and I realized my line was wrapped in the limbs. I knew my fish was certainly gone.

Atticus had been scrambling across the tail out trying to get to the far side of the deep hole to spook the fish away from the tree fall.  He crawled on top of the trees laying across the river, but my line staid tight around a limb.  I was certain the fish had broken the 6x tippet at this point, and returned to the safety of the deep water. "Do you see anything," I asked Atticus with low expectation. "No. I stirred up mud walking over here and can't see anything," he replied. I was dejected as he hovered above the cold waters lying on a few waterlogged branches.

Then it happen. Atticus communicated with focus and determination, "I see it! I'm going for it." He plunged his right arm in amongst the tangle of limbs, shoulder deep in the frigid water, and lifted the thick brown trout up into the 36 degree air by the tail, gripping it like a steelhead. Victory.

Hayden, Atticus, and I all celebrated with hoots, hollers, and jigs.  Hayden and I tromped across the river to examine all 25 inches of the healthy trout. After a few hero shots, the fish vigorously swam out of my hand and back into the hole it had fought me in minutes earlier. It was the biggest trout I'd ever landed; a fish of a lifetime.

Maybe it was worn out from the fight, and holed up under the safety of the branches, to tired to leave when Atticus approached the fallen trees and climbed on top of them, but for some reason we landed the beast. We shouldn't have, but we did. One good head shake would have easily snapped the 6x tippet with my line wrapped around a tree. This was definitely the fish that should have got away.  Without Atticus as super net boy and landing coach, it would have been just another fish story about the one that got away.

Grasping Straws... The New Hero

Sitting at home on a Saturday, not fishing, tracking through the prolific cyber-fly world of blogs, forums, and pod cast, I'm tempted to be an anthropologist of fly casters.  The culture of fly fishing has changed tremendously in the last 15 years, and the resulting ripple effects of the "new grass" strain of fly fishers in intriguing.

Fly fishers fall into one of two mindsets.  1): Those that have life, and fishing supplements their quality of life; and 2): Those that seek life through the fly, and lust for ultimate experiential enlightement.  In my 25 plus years of fly fishing, group 2 has swollen in size under the rain of digital technology.

Let's call group 2, the "Tilley Haters." Pushing the boundaries of conventional fly fishing, this fish lusting punk culture of fly fishers hates khaki, Orvis, hero shots, and tilley hats (really, I've never seen a revolt inciting abundance of Tilley hats on the stream, and I'm sure those big brims work better in the rain than the mesh back ball caps so many of us don, but whatev).  The answer to the smiling hero shot of that trophy torpedo is a the "new hero" shot; displaying that same fish, while the angler's face hidden (with a non-tilley hat of course), blocking a presumably non-smiling mug.  Intense. Serious. Worship like.  Some of this sect are guides, some are trout bums, some are shop owners, some are college kids, some are husbands and fathers.  Most live to fish. Most seem generally pissed. No trophy will ever satisfy. These guys (gals aren't really welcomed in their crass, porn filled, cyber locker rooms) are doing some of the best cutting edge fly design, photography, and fishing. We all benefit from their drive. They are driven by a need to be fulfilled by the ultimate fishing lifestyle, but are too often left thirsting for the next dose of finned heroin to feel momentarily satisfied, grasping at straws. These folks can be skeptical, and weary of outsiders as they protect their secrets. Bitter and booze medicated.  Classic Dicken's, the best of times and the worst of times.

The Hero

The new hero

 Group A seems more diverse. We will call this bunch the Juvies.  These seem to find a kid like wonder to chasing fish, being outside, and making flies in place of tree houses and derby racers of youth.  Fishing is a enhancement to life rather than the way of life.  This group contains weekend warriors, trout bums, people who hate Tilley hats, and people who love their brimmed Filson's. Juvies won't freak if their face is in a photo, but they probably appreciate the fish shot more that the mug shot. Guides, shop owners, business men, college kids, family men, and loners can be Juvies.  Though some may hang their head after a busted fishing trip, few will have an unsuccessful fly venture impact their work, family, friends, and happiness.  Fishing is for kicks, after all (yes, i'm obviously bias).  The truly passionate in this group are about redemption.  Stream redemption, damn destruction, taking a kid fishing, or just passing on knowledge and legend to the current generation.
We need innovators who aren't haters.  Don't be a horny head.

Even since I wrote this article in 2011, there has been a subtle swing.  Orvis has rebranded themselves to engage with the young, hipster fly fisher, and other cultural shifts seem to be happening in this currently diverse sub-culture. (Amended 5/6/14)