Big fish vs. little fish

Stalking big fish vs. catching a lot of little fish

When the stars align and the moon is just right, and your Quan is perfectly aligned with your Chi, then it’s possible to have day on the river where you catch those monster fish, and catch a lot of them. Actually think about it, rivers that you know hold the big boys, got so big by doing something that the little fish have not done for very long: survive. Consider how many fish in a river never make it to 5 or 10 inches—primarily because they usually become food for those big ones. So getting back to catching those big fish, genuinely whopping fish, and catching a large amount of them…well it’s not an everyday occurrence right?

With the blatantly obvious said about how big fish become big, lets also be candid that those big fish are a lot harder to hook and land. If they weren’t, I doubt we would be drawn to the sport. Why does a hunter dream of getting that royal 7 point elk, and better yet, why do some hunters dream of doing it with a bow, or with a black power rifle? I think the same can be said about getting that huge Brown to rise to a little caddis you delicately drop just above the hole you see him feeding in, making sure your line lands just so, and that your fake bug drifts perfectly into his tight little feeding zone so that he thinks that bead and feather hook really is a caddis. Slurp, a slow and deliberate take, let him eat, and count “God save the Queen,” set the hook. It is at that exact second, you see the line go tight and you feel the weight and mass on the end of the line and you know you’re in for a heavy weight title fight. That exact second where you have worked so hard and also gotten so lucky to do all the correct things to get this fish on your line, for me it just doesn’t get any better than that. The fight to come will be awesome, and whatever the outcome, either you land him or he gets away, that’s another matter. But for me it’s that tiny sliver of time where you know you have at least gotten the chance to fight this fish that draws you in.

I don’t think I care about landing that big fish as much as I quiver in getting that full-sized fish to take the imitation caddis believing it was the real thing. You may need your waders for the BS I’m about to pile up, but I think the one that got away means more to me than the landed fish. On a river that I will not name I hooked into a trout of unknown species, with a nymph that felt like a snag. I was pissed because I just tied a new one on, and I was just hoping I could release the hook without losing it. But then the snag started to move, I was almost more afraid then excited. I was in for a 15 round heavy weight fight, and I knew it. About a minute or two into the fight, or what would be about the third or fourth round, this champ ran down river under a log; but I went deep into the water, and forced my rod under the log, and instantly applied opposite pressure. I would like to think that at point into our battle that my fish gained a bit of respect for me. I picture him saying, “okay it looks like you’ve spent at least a little time in the ring…” He then ran up river just ripping my line out, like the reel would catch on fire (a touch of hyperbole) I moved up river, keeping the rod at the side, and I kept constant pressure on him. Without writing an entire novel, he took me to my backing 3 times—honestly. At this point I’m thinking the fight is over, and I will have my hand raised in the air. No! It’s what I think is maybe the 13^th round and that son of a bitch pulled the Rumble in The Jungle on me,  and totally KO’ed me by driving deep, and wrapping me off on a branch or something. Here’s the best part, I did not even get to see this mammoth fish. I did not get to see just how big this fish was. I started screaming and crying like a little baby, yelling for Greg to come help me. What was I thinking, help me do what…? He was gone, and I knew it. But never seeing that fish has haunted me to this day. That fish was by far the best fish I have ever hooked, and never landed. I will never forget it, and I will always wonder just how big he really was.

Sort of opposite to perusing the colossal fish is finding a river that you know doesn’t support the Mohammed Ali of fish, but instead houses the feather weights. I’m talking about rivers that don’t have the right conditions for fish to get really big, and the conditions are so that a lot of fish are in there and they don’t get that immense.

A lot of factors and circumstances must exist for fish to get big, but without getting crazy and just keeping it simple, it has to do with food. If the conditions are right for a lot of bugs to thrive, or larger prey; things that hold a lot of calories for fish such as frogs or sculpins or large terrestrials and the fish can just pork out all day, well they will get big. As my buddy Colby always says, “Fish gotta eat.”

Fish also need the right home to keep them safe, and oxygenated, and you can usually tell those rivers by looking at them. Of course it’s not like this is an exact rule. You can find a small ditch that will hold 22 inch fish.

If a river has a lot of small fish in it, about 3 inches to no bigger than 13 inches, its usually packed with a ton of them, and they all have one thing on their minds—food. Now how does this differ from the big fish we were talking about? No difference except one thing, those big fish actually get a chance to feed that hunger. Those little fish are fighting tooth and nail to get every little morsel they can in their little fish gullets. So when you find one of these rivers, which are typically higher in altitude and do not have huge deep holes, you can look forward to a day of tying on most anything in you fly box and getting action. And if the day is going to be like that, why not select flies from your dry box?

Another perk to these types of rivers, it that they tend to be in a beautiful setting. Which is exactly the case with The North Fork of the Duchesne, a river that simply has to rate high on Utah’s beauty scale. I love everything about this river, from the drive there, to the size of the river, to the stunning mountain range that surrounds it.

The gateway to the Grand Daddy Uintah Mountains, the North Fork has been a popular camping destination for our family and friends for years. When the kids were little, we would camp with our friends at a group spot at the highest campground, at Iron Mine. The kids have great memories of playing baseball out in a field right next to the river. If you didn’t trip on a hole made by the thousands of pot guts and gophers in the area, you were blessed. I can’t say for sure, but with any luck my girls will have that river in their blood stream, and they will site the North Fork as one of the first ones that got into their veins.

Partially everything I put on brought some kind of action from small rainbows, and a few 10 to 13 inch Brookies. At a particular section of the river things turned crappy. Colby attributes it to all the cows pooping into the water. How can you argue with him, I’m sure cows and in particular cow shit is not a big draw for any species of trout? As the day progressed into the afternoon the top of the water was alive with almost every cast.

We took along 3 guys I work with, and one guy in particular, Chris, was brand spanking new to fly fishing. Yes once again, I am playing the role of guide. Seth was new to fly fishing, so I matched him up with Colby, although he is a pretty experienced fisherman.  I must admit, there is particular joy in seeing someone enjoy the peace of the river, and it’s a bonus if they actually get a strike and maybe a fish. Billy, the third guy was nick named “Big Foot” because he disappeared as soon as we got there, and we luckily found him at the end of the day. Chris has a successful day on the river and actually caught fish—a big deal for a new guy. At one point Colby, Seth and I were positioned at this amazing hole created by a huge log across the river; our goal was to achieve a trifecta, each one of us hooking up. It was trifecta time over and over again.

The battle with small to medium fish will obviously never etch into anyone’s memory like the trophy fish. But as I say over and over and over again, going fishing is not really about catching fish; it’s about fishing. I love a day of action, especially when its top water action, and the North Fork delivers baby! I can’t say I’ve fished every river in Utah (not yet) but I have seen enough to say the Basin area is heavy weight champ even on small fish streams.