Lake Hattie

I went up to Wyoming, hoping to take the kayak out, but knowing the wind might be prohibitive. When I arrived, the whitecaps were pretty intense so I decided to stay on land and work the wind-blown shoreline. Thankfully I just received some new waders that I got for a good deal on eBay. The air temp was around 40F with a “feels like” around 30F. Thanks to the 25mph wind, I was literally the only angler there on a Saturday. Later, one other party showed up (who happened to be my friend Martin Valenciano ). With the wind in my face, I threw heavy lures. After a couple hours of no bites, I considered heading to a different lake, but my conviction was that there were fish to be caught here. I knew there might be some serious predators hunting in the stirred up waters near the shoreline. I also knew there could be some Kokanee spawning in the area, although they’d been elusive this season due to unusually low water levels. The possibility of a Kokanee spawn provided even more likelihood of predatory trout being in the area looking for a meal of fresh eggs. I bore in mind some recent sessions from Ethan Roberts , in which he persevered for a few hours before making great catches. It’s not about dumb luck when you’re using knowledge and skills to the best of your ability. Sometimes it’s about patience, and sometimes you get skunked in spite of it. I fished hard and covered as much shoreline as I could. Finally, three and a half hours in, I caught a stout little brown trout - I’m guessing 16-17 inches. I was happy with that catch, and it gave me the energy to keep going. Less than half an hour later, it happened! The big whomp we all hope for. The tightest of tight lines. It felt weighty with a strong pull, and for a moment I suspected that I might have inadvertently tail-hooked a good-sized Kokanee. As always, I try to land fish quickly when I’m playing C&R, and within a couple minutes I got a glimpse of a golden torpedo body. Unmistakable. A giant brown. It took a few runs as I attempted to gently walk it toward the beach. The shore-pounding waves worked in my favor, and I gained some ground each time the fish got caught in a wave. When I landed it, I was calm but frantic at the same time. My immediate thought was that this was a spectacular trophy fish and I needed to release it ASAP, but absolutely had to get a photo and quick measurement. Thankfully, I’ve handled and photographed a lot of big trout in the past couple years, so my body went into autopilot. Unhook the fish. Keep her in the net in the water while I set up my phone for the selfie. Press record. Pick up the fish. Compose a quick shot. Put the fish back in the net in the water. Set up my tape measure. Pick up the fish again and get the measurement. 31 inches. Oh my word, a 31 inch brown trout. That’s a PB. Wade out with the fish and release her. Gone. 31 inches. Wow. Wait a minute, I thought to myself. That’s my biggest trout ever. A couple of the 30-inch Lahontan cutthroats were certainly heavier, but 31 is the longest trout I’ve held. That didn’t even cross my mind until she’d swam away. After the spectacular brown trout (27.65 inches) I caught on April 1st of this year, I had no expectations of beating that PB again in the same year. That was a special fish, caught in my home lake. A real unicorn, and I happened to frame it up perfectly when I got the selfie. One of the best looking fish pictures I’ve taken. I’d even submitted it as a state C&R length record, since the one listed on the CPW website at the time was 25.5 inches. Alas, another angler submitted a 30 incher before mine was processed. Rats. At present, 30 inches is still the C&R record mark in Colorado, so if I’d caught this beauty south of the border (with a witness) she could have been a state record. What a fish. As I’ve reflected on the catch, my first thoughts were to consider whether she was spawning. I don’t target spawning trout (spawning Kokanee yes, but that’s another story). Even if she was spawning it wouldn’t invalidate the catch. After all, it wasn’t like I was sight-fishing a creek or targeting redds. I was fishing in heavy wind, and she hooked up in around 5-6 feet of water, well beyond my sight range. That having been said, I believe she was recently post-spawn for a couple reasons. First and foremost, she looked like it. I wouldn’t say “skinny”, but she didn’t have the engorged belly like a hen of her stature would have. She was lean, and she released zero eggs when I handled her. Typically when I catch a large female trout that is pre-spawn, it will expel some eggs or at least you can see that she’s ripe for it. If it’s mid-spawn, it’ll be obvious. Many eggs will be wasted during the catch. A spawning fish can lose their eggs during the strain of a battle, but this was a relatively short fight and she’d have still been expelling eggs after being landed. Second, the way the spoon was buried deep in her mouth made it seem more like a hungry attack than an annoyance or reaction strike. She had to chase my fast-moving spoon and was eating aggressively. This would imply that she’d already laid her eggs (creating many redds) and was now replenishing. She was in the same vicinity where I found some Kokanee shortly thereafter, and a post-spawn brownie hen might be keen on scooping up hundreds of nutritious salmon eggs as an easy meal. At more than twice the size of the kokes, she could easily hit that buffet without much fear of retaliation. Wyoming only has records-by-weight, and the top brownie is a 25.8 pound (34.25 inch) beast from 1982. If I had to guess a weight on my catch, it would be in the 12.5-13 pound range; about half the weight of the record. Looking at pictures of other 31-inch fish, such as a recent WY record tiger trout (15 pounds), I’m pretty confident of that estimate. According to angling conservationist Landon Mayer, a 30-inch female brown will lose 7 pounds during the spawn due to significant energy expenditure on top of the egg laying. That means this fish may have been a 20 pounder a couple months ago! Based on anecdotal observations, I believe this fish could be a state record contender if it survives just a few more years. It’s already beat the odds and become an outlier on any typical growth chart. At this stage of its life, I suspect it will start packing on more girth than length. When that happens, the weight can go up like a hyperbolic curve. Perhaps you’ve observed this if you’ve caught a 2.5 pound 20-inch trout, and then caught a 5 pound 22-incher that weighs twice as much as the 20-inch fish (that’s a realistic example). This hen didn’t have the look of an old fish. Its colors were bright. I thought it was a male until I landed it and saw the jaws. Its fins were impeccable. With the exception of the dorsal, which was basically missing, its other fins were proportionally large, looking more like a fish that grew up in a swift flowing stream. I think she could have some more good years. As a fish-selfie fanatic, I’m aware that every time I pick up a fish to photograph it, I’m risking its life. It’s a calculated risk that I willingly take, and I make efforts to minimize that risk by handling it well. I hope this lovely hen survived its date with me, and goes on to become a fat old lady. After catching my breath for a few minutes, I went back to casting and soon found the Kokanees that I was looking for. Earlier, I’d found a lure called “the Reaper” at the West Laramie fly shop. I thought it would be perfect for spawning kokes, as it’s got everything they hate most. An obnoxious spinner. Bright colors. A bead that looks like a competing fish egg. A trailer that looks like an egg-sucking leech. Sure enough, I could feel them hammering it on almost every cast once I found them. Most did not hook up, as it’s a fairly big lure and they were just trying to make it go away, but I managed to land five in the last hour before dark. What a way to end the day. As I hiked up to my truck in the afterglow of an amazing session, my friend Martin drove over from his fishing spot to say hi. “Martin”, I said, “I caught a really good fish today.”

Went up north to catch a few for supper.