Birthday Luck!

For whatever reason, I had not intended on doing much of anything on my birthday. My plan was limited to sleeping in, watching basketball, and basically lounging around in general. Luckily as I awoke that morning, I accepted that there was not anything I would rather be doing than fishing on the Chattooga River.

On the drive up, like usual, I began to let my mind wander in anticipation of the day ahead. I thought about all the areas I wanted to try, the possible scenarios I would encounter, and everything else that fills the minds of the common psycho fly fisherman. The daydreaming had made the car ride a quick one, and I came upon the trailhead just before first light.

The way in which I fumbled to gather my gear in the dark probably looked more like a comedy routine than anything else, and as I started down the old trail I am sure that the anticipation made me move at an entirely unnecessary pace. After spending far too much time away from my favorite trout stream, I was finally ready to descend into those familiar waters that I call home.

I decided to take my long 2wt rod, partially because I had planned on doing a lot of dry fly fishing, but primarily because it is simply a hell of a lot of fun to fight a fish with. After getting into a rhythm with the considerably smaller outfit, and gaining some confidence in the fly at the end of my line, I began to pick up a few fish here and there.

After casting to rising fish from a small shoal in the middle of the river, I began to move towards an area that looked to have potential. It was one of those typical “fishy” looking spots; distinguished by a deeply undercut bank and shaded by a fallen tree protruding out into the water. As I carefully waded into position something out of the ordinary caught my eye.

At first, considering the inconspicuous location in the river and the size of the fish, I was sure it was a big sucker. The fish was laying up on the edge of a rock shoal in very shallow water, making it very visible from my vantage point. The fish was within twenty feet of me, and after a closer examination, my mouth dropped and I froze in place when I saw the tell-tale features of a massive brown trout.

I quickly clipped away my 6x tippet and puny elk hair caddis and retied with heavier line and a gaudy streamer as I intently watched the fish, simply praying that he would not dart away. With the setup ready to go, I began to draw out the necessary line for a water load as to not spook the fish with a sloppy false cast. I took a long deep breath and focused on the target as the line shot forward and turned over the streamer better than I could have ever imagined.

The fly fluttered in the water as it approached the big brown at what seemed like a snail’s pace. I anxiously gripped the cork of the rod with one hand as I used the other to give my fly line the first and only twitch to entice a strike. It was as if I could literally feel the rush of adrenaline through my body as the monster brown surged forward with reckless abandon to obliterate the streamer at the end of my line.

After such a violent strike, I swiftly lifted my little 2wt to set the hook and just as quickly watched it double over entirely as if the fish gave it no respect at all. The underpowered rod appeared to be ready to splinter at any moment from the tremendous stress of the powerful fish on the end of line, but one thing was for certain…the battle was on.

The first moment of the fight consisted of some of the most violent head shakes and thrashing imaginable, just before the extended madness ensued. After burying down and shooting across the river, I proceed to watch all the fly line burn off my reel to the backing as the drag screams at me to give chase. Before I even know what happened, I am sprinting downstream trying to regain line and catch the runaway fish.

As I moved to catch up with the fish a few hundred feet downstream, I hopelessly realized that I literally could not move the fish in the swift current with my little rod. Just then, the big brown peels off on another blistering run downstream and my attempts to turn the fish fail miserably as I give chase once more. Just as the fish reached a long flat, he headed toward the stream bank looking to bury down in the roots and brush jutting out from shore. With limited real estate in the shallow water, the momentum had swung in my favor.

Following a few more minutes of brute force on the end of my line, and two failed attempts to land the fish, I finally slip the net under the weight of the fish as the head and tail protruded out on both ends. The features that immediately distinguished this fish from others were its intimidating kype jaw, powerful tail, and immense shoulders making it a truly memorable catch beyond the size alone.

After snapping a few photographs and reviving the fish, the big brown regained his strength and headed back into the water in great condition to fight another day. Subsequently; all I could think to do was to take the weight off my feet and catch my breath. I sat there with a smile from ear to ear, and realized how at that moment in time, everything in life was just fine.

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