hughzar
Member
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2010
- Messages
- 69
I thought I might share a story about catching my first rainbow trout yesterday. Perhaps this could spark other stories of people reminiscing about the first important catches...
Yesterday just felt like a good day for fishing. A cool night, a cloudless sky, and an autumn breeze in the air reinforced that feeling. After performing several much needed husband/father duties, I set out for the DHALO section of Pine Creek in Allegheny County.
It was around 3:00pm when I pulled off the road and started to gear up. With my head in the trunk, I heard a car with squeaky brakes decelerate. When I looked up an older man was leaning out his car window and asked, "Any luck?" I shook my head no and told him I was just getting started. He replied, "It's a great day for fishing. They just stocked this past Tuesday, so I'm sure you'll have some luck." After I thanked him, I shut my trunk and started walking toward the railroad tracks.
The waters of Pine Creek were low, but a fantastic shade of green. I knew that my approach to the waters would likely go unseen by trout hiding in the deeper holes. Despite my confidence, my first hour and a half proved fruitless. I started with a brown cone-head woolly bugger then switched to a Copper John to change it up, but found the fish uninterested in both.
When I arrived at a large moss covered rock, I stopped. Partly because there was a large snake sunbathing on said rock and partly because I knew this 100 yard stretch of water had good potential. It was deep and swift. There were pools of slower water to the right of the current every 20 feet or so. I knew this was where I would catch my first rainbow trout on the fly.
Recalling the advice to dead drift a woolly bugger through deeper pools for trout, I tied on a size 16 black cone-head woolly bugger and cast it out. To little surprise, I ended up hung up under a rock. I dislodged the fly as I felt my confidence wane. It was getting late and I was getting hungry. A few more casts, I said to myself, and then I'll head out. But it was this next cast that would keep me fishing for two more hours, and likely for the rest of my life.
I attached on a strike indicator high up on my line. My thinking was that trout, unlike the gluttonous bass I had previously been catching with buggers, would strike quick and lose interest just as fast. So I recast my line and waited with bated breath. Quickly, I mended my line for a better drift. Then my indicator disappeared.
Jerking up on the line, I set the hook. A flash of silver breached the green water as the trout let me know he was not going to be landed easily. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…he took off up stream. I managed to somehow keep the line tight as he breached the water several more times. A few minutes went by as this wily ‘bow continued to serge every time I would reach for my net. In the end, I was victorious.
Much to my surprise, my first rainbow trout was not as big as I had expected. He laid there in my net tired, as to be expected, only around 12 inches. I had caught several smallmouth bass at least in the 15 inch range this year and their fight paled in comparison to this trout. Quickly removing the bugger from it’s mouth, I grab the trout and returned him to the water.
That trout and I shared a moment just then, as I supported him in the water. We both played very intricate roles in this memorable event. I could see his gills opening and close at a much slower pace, and I knew it would be longer. Withdrawing my hand from the water, but still crouch down, I watched as my first rainbow trout swam away. It was like watching a ship set sail with a loved one aboard. Sure, there were no exuberant cheers or loud horns to echo in the woods, but it was still an exciting send off.
Standing up, I did what any true fisherman would do. I reattached my forceps to my vest, slung my net behind my back, and started to strip out some line. There were more fish out there. And I was ready to try to catch every one of them!
Yesterday just felt like a good day for fishing. A cool night, a cloudless sky, and an autumn breeze in the air reinforced that feeling. After performing several much needed husband/father duties, I set out for the DHALO section of Pine Creek in Allegheny County.
It was around 3:00pm when I pulled off the road and started to gear up. With my head in the trunk, I heard a car with squeaky brakes decelerate. When I looked up an older man was leaning out his car window and asked, "Any luck?" I shook my head no and told him I was just getting started. He replied, "It's a great day for fishing. They just stocked this past Tuesday, so I'm sure you'll have some luck." After I thanked him, I shut my trunk and started walking toward the railroad tracks.
The waters of Pine Creek were low, but a fantastic shade of green. I knew that my approach to the waters would likely go unseen by trout hiding in the deeper holes. Despite my confidence, my first hour and a half proved fruitless. I started with a brown cone-head woolly bugger then switched to a Copper John to change it up, but found the fish uninterested in both.
When I arrived at a large moss covered rock, I stopped. Partly because there was a large snake sunbathing on said rock and partly because I knew this 100 yard stretch of water had good potential. It was deep and swift. There were pools of slower water to the right of the current every 20 feet or so. I knew this was where I would catch my first rainbow trout on the fly.
Recalling the advice to dead drift a woolly bugger through deeper pools for trout, I tied on a size 16 black cone-head woolly bugger and cast it out. To little surprise, I ended up hung up under a rock. I dislodged the fly as I felt my confidence wane. It was getting late and I was getting hungry. A few more casts, I said to myself, and then I'll head out. But it was this next cast that would keep me fishing for two more hours, and likely for the rest of my life.
I attached on a strike indicator high up on my line. My thinking was that trout, unlike the gluttonous bass I had previously been catching with buggers, would strike quick and lose interest just as fast. So I recast my line and waited with bated breath. Quickly, I mended my line for a better drift. Then my indicator disappeared.
Jerking up on the line, I set the hook. A flash of silver breached the green water as the trout let me know he was not going to be landed easily. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…he took off up stream. I managed to somehow keep the line tight as he breached the water several more times. A few minutes went by as this wily ‘bow continued to serge every time I would reach for my net. In the end, I was victorious.
Much to my surprise, my first rainbow trout was not as big as I had expected. He laid there in my net tired, as to be expected, only around 12 inches. I had caught several smallmouth bass at least in the 15 inch range this year and their fight paled in comparison to this trout. Quickly removing the bugger from it’s mouth, I grab the trout and returned him to the water.
That trout and I shared a moment just then, as I supported him in the water. We both played very intricate roles in this memorable event. I could see his gills opening and close at a much slower pace, and I knew it would be longer. Withdrawing my hand from the water, but still crouch down, I watched as my first rainbow trout swam away. It was like watching a ship set sail with a loved one aboard. Sure, there were no exuberant cheers or loud horns to echo in the woods, but it was still an exciting send off.
Standing up, I did what any true fisherman would do. I reattached my forceps to my vest, slung my net behind my back, and started to strip out some line. There were more fish out there. And I was ready to try to catch every one of them!
