That First Big Fish

In Flylife 56, Greg French wrote an article “Beyond Maydena” looking at fishing some southern rivers including Styx, Weld, Florentine, Lawrence and Upper Gordon systems. When Daniel Hackett offered a package through RiverFly I knew I had to do it.
After saving and putting suitable gear together, I met with a mate, Mike, and we hit the road, heading south. The article had raised expectations and Daniel had certainly fed that with stories of monsters lurking in the runs and pools of the Styx, Weld and Florentine where we expected to fish.

Day one turned out to be fairly bleak.
Rain and a bit of wind even in the sheltered valley near the Styx Big Tree Reserve. The “to hand” result was disappointing with Mike landing one small brown. The scenery was outstanding. Massive stands of trees reaching high above head. Magnificent clear runs full of small to very small trout, but we were here to fish for something bigger.
The true potential was realised early on with Mike missing a strike on a massive trout sitting in a small back water. The day was littered with gasps of awe and cries of frustration as we saw a dozen or more 6, 8, 10lb or bigger fish. Leviathans that while visible, had no intent on taking the flies on offer. Instead they chose to mock us with their darting out from the cover of fallen logs littered throughout the river.


With me blanking for the day, but the promise of better conditions the next, we changed plans and headed to Judbury and the Russell River. Outstanding decision! Another beautiful stream in a surprisingly dry Huon valley quickly helped ease our pain from yesterday.
We whetted our appetite with a few small browns before Mike landed a tough 2lb+ brown with a WMD hopper. A few celebratory photos from everyone and we continued.
A few more browns took our Black and Peacocks fished as a nymph, but nothing else over a pound until I landed one also around the 2lb mark.
My PB in Tassie.

Around 10 or 12 to hand for the day and more smiles than the previous day. The smiling only got better as our guides and Mike discovered a laden Mulberry tree. Those berries sure leave stains.

Final day and the Styx beckoned again. We fished further downstream and started slightly earlier in almost perfect conditions, little cloud, gentle breeze, and determination to land a stonker or two.

We both broke our Styx blank early on with nice small browns before, Daniel and Mike scoped out a massive fish in front of a log pile. Mike cast a perfect tandem setup in front and we watched as the brown turned to follow the nymph and inhaled. Strike! Bang! Hook up! Logs! Damn! While true, the biggest fish are the ones that get away, and their size tends to grow, this was a truly massive fish and the poor bloke was rightly shattered.
Soon, the other three put me onto a decent looking fish sitting on station mid stream. It ignored my fastwater dun/nymph setup, so Dan tied on a shaving brush. Cast to the right, ignored. Cast to the right again (my bad), ignored. Finally cast to left, wait, turn, take, strike, bang, ON!! I have never had a fish of this size on my line for this period of time. It came straight for me and I kept things tight and good. The guys were ready with the net, cameras were getting ready. I relaxed slightly and the fish went on another run, hook straightened, line springs back at me and I didn’t know what to do. Laugh, cry, throw things……oh crap, what have I done? What have I missed?


We recovered, well they did, I still haven’t, had lunch and continued on. Not long after, the scenario re-emerged. This time however, the dun was all that was needed. The take was explosive and the brown headed to a closeby log jam. Pressure on and to the right, turn, yay, oh no another log pile to the left. Keep the tip up. Pressure on and try and bring in line. Keep the tip up. Don’t relax, don’t relax, don’t relax. Wrist hurting, anxiety building, don’t stuff up, don’t stuff up, a net, finally a net, nearly, nearly, nearly, now, YES!!!!!
A huge, massive, ginormous....3.75lb. I know, I know not that big really, but in context it was the biggest fish I had caught by almost 200%.
It was a brilliant 3 days of fishing. Such diversified rivers, yet each unified by their beauty and the memories of mates, fish, and potential for much more. These are truly amazing rivers and one I will return to as soon as possible to catch one of those wily monster browns. One of the REALLY big ones.

This story is from a trip taken in February 2010. The people in it are factual and the heartbreak of that first dropped fish is still felt today.

Putting the Learning Together

....I had tied on this very bank earlier in the day.


"While they're taking from the surface, I'll catch 'em" the great prophet of fly declared to his surrounding minions.
There he stood, a "god" amongst mere mortals.
A fly fishermen amongst a gaggle of "spinners."
"Let me show you how."
The throng parted as he strode towards the bank.
And here my dilemma began.

My family had set up camp alongside our favourite stretch of water at the campgrounds.
A spot we had visited 3 or 4 times over the years.
A spot, that had always teemed with rising fish after the swimming had finished and the light began to fade.
I had been completely unsuccessful in any of these previous visits.
And here I sat.
Watching.
My limited years of experience were trying to remember things I should remember if I wanted the success I was confident of achieving this night.
Yes, there were rising fish.
I spent 10 to 20 minutes watching.
Lots of small brown trout leaping out of the water.
Lots of small trout.
Yet, my peripheral vision had detected something in the bubble line coming under the branch on the bend.
And here I found myself, sitting on the bank.
My rod, leaning on a tree 3 metres away.
Set up and ready to go.
And my hopes, dashed from behind with the crowd of enthusiastic star-struck anglers.

He stripped out line and started casting at the rises.
I cringed as I saw the ripples come out from under the branch again slightly downstream of his casts.
I argued internally.
"I was here first."
"It's my pool."
"But where's your rod?"
"How could anyone know?"
I bit my lip, stayed seated and kept watching that bubble line.

Another subtle rise brought forth ripples.
Hard to spot in the other swirls, but surely he saw it too.
Another.

I died inwardly as one of his cohorts started tossing out a lure and rapidly retrieved it through the middle of the run.
"Don't spook it"
"Don't spook it"
It was almost too much to take.
My bottom lip was screaming out in pain from being bitten.
I quickly scanned the run again and again.
Nothing.
Nothing.
"Poo!"
It's gone.
A rise.
Phew!

"Well it's not happening here. Where's the next spot?"
I couldn't believe it.
They were leaving.
He hadn't cast into the bubble line?
He hadn't seen the rises?
But they were going.
My chance.



.....I saw the ripples come out from under the branch.....


I waited patiently for the throng of 6 or 8 to slowly walk off. Sounds of disillusionment obvious as they discussed a place that "never" ends with a blank.
Waiting........waiting..........another set of ripples was all I could take.
I whispered a shout to my wife and kids to come and see.
I tried to slow my breathing as I casually stepped over and picked up my rod.
The sounds of chatter had gone except for a distant outrageous laugh.
I studied the water.
Watched the line of bubbles gather in the corner and then gradually glide under the branch 15 metres away.
I peeled off line and unhooked my fly.
An Adams variation I had tied on this very bank earlier in the day.
I cast.......................
Short. As usual. Aaaarggghhh!
I really need to work on that.
Take two was unbelievably spot on.
The fly danced as the current caught it upstream of the branch and gently swept the tied treat towards the target zone.
Suddenly, it was gone.
Ever so subtly, gone.
I giggled as I struck it home. Destroying any illusion of rugged manliness I sort of possess.
But I had hooked the trout.
I had looked for it and found it and now I had hooked it.
Soon, I had landed it.
A hero to my family.
A sense of mediocrity within myself had disappeared.

"While they're taking from the surface, I'll catch 'em"
Heh heh.