The morning didn’t start well. I decided to hike upstream to fish what was probably my most productive stretch on Yellow Creek last season hoping for similar results. The in-season stocking was now two weeks behind us and I figured I needed to find some fish that weren’t getting a lot of pressure. The walk is a full mile and most people don’t do it, so my expectations were high. Unfortunately, the action wasn’t what I was hoping for because I didn’t get a single strike in the big pool after about an hour of trying. I was disappointed, but I also knew I’ve had success in the past in the pocket water between the big pool and the outflow from the reservoir. I worked my way upstream and eventually found a couple trout willing to feed. Still, it wasn’t nearly the result I was hoping for and that left me wanting more.
I hit what I refer to as Big Rock Hole on my way back downstream, but didn’t get a strike. That hole is deep and particularly difficult to fish with a fly rod. After a few minutes there, I gave up and hiked out of the valley and back to the road. By this time the sun was peaking out and it was turning into a beautiful spring day. The long walk back to the truck gives you time to think and I decided I had nothing to lose by hitting a couple spots I know well near the parking area. I figured they had already been fished hard, but just a couple days earlier I caught several fish in a small pool that gets overlooked and there was a good chance I could have similar success. I also lost a big fish that day, and I considered the possibility of meeting up with it again. To be honest, I was starting to feel a little down after a disappointing morning of few fish, tangled line, and missed hook sets ending up in the trees. I needed a win.
Once again I found the fishing to be underwhelming. I didn’t get a single strike in the same hole I was catching fish on nearly every cast from recently and I was starting to wonder if bait anglers had cleaned the stream out. Just when I was about to give up, I noticed nobody was fishing the deep, long pool below me and I watched a fly fisherman land a couple trout there the last time I was out. I know the spot well because it’s typically where I go when I’m short on time and I’ve caught a lot of fish from it. One of those was a really nice brown last season that was probably my best of the year. This is also the spot where my dad hooked his lip a few years ago on opening morning that resulted in a trip to the local urgent care. I guess for that reason I think I’ll now refer to that spot as Hook Lip Hole!
After trying multiple flies throughout the morning, I switched from a white wooly bugger to a gold dubbed Frenchie in size 14. It was the only one in my box, but I remembered having a lot of success with that color combination last season. On about my third cast I hooked and landed a nice rainbow. Shortly thereafter I had a brookie to the net, and not long after that another. I don’t know if I found the right fly or if the bite was just picking up, but I figured my success was enough that I could call it a good morning on the water after all.
Any other morning I would have stuck it out and kept fishing, but we promised Will that we’d take him to the BFDI 25 showing at the Monroeville Mall theater later that day. I figured I’d throw a few more casts and call it good, which would give me plenty of time to get home and prepare for our outing. On my next cast, I watched my sighter line as it worked its way neatly through the current. I was using my Euro rig, which includes my 10-foot Moonshine Rod Company Epiphany in 3-weight, and a lower end reel that I don’t even know the make of. I was using 6x tippet, and I just restrung my total leader, sighter, and tippet setup before I started fishing that morning. Just as my nymph was reaching the deepest section of the pool I got a solid strike, which triggered an instant response from me as I quickly lifted my rod tip to set the hook.
Almost immediately I recognized this fish felt different. The weight on my rod felt heavy, and the fish’s instinct was to stay down, which typically indicates a bigger than average adversary. After about of minute into the fight, it darted downstream and when I turned it I got enough of a look to realize this was a big trout. Right away my mind went to the big fish I lost a few days earlier and I wasn’t interested in having that happen again. When it rolled in front of me I thought it was a rainbow I was battling. It wasn’t until a couple minutes later into the fight that I realized it was a beautiful brown, and one that I’d really like to land. I felt a tinge of nerves work through my body as I now had a sense of urgency. It’s similar to the feeling I get when a shot at a good buck with my bow is imminent, and it becomes a struggle between skill and anxiety.
The fight went on for several minutes and I almost had the beast netted on two occasions. I knew he was tiring so I tried to work him into the shallows putting myself between him and the deep water. Both times he saw the net previously he bolted hard, and I was trying to avoid that happening a third time. At this point I was sure thankful I took the time to put fresh line on. It was a good reminder to never been in a hurry and pay attention to the details when you’re fishing because you’ll inevitably pay for it if you don’t.
Although I still mess up a lot and lose my share of fish, I probably don’t give myself enough credit for the combination of experience and skill I’ve built up over the years. I needed all of it to finally get the giant brown to my net this morning. For a third time I worked the fish within net range and this time I scooped it up with one quick motion. Finally the fish was mine to admire and admire it I did! I also had to make a decision about what to do with it and quickly if I was going to release it. It didn’t take me long to recognize a few important factors that helped me with my decision. First, this was a big fish that I had to fight for a long time because of my light setup and it was exhausted. On top of that, the water temperature was in the mid-60’s and that would have added additional stress. Finally, this looked like a personal best brown trout on a fly rod for me, and given how pretty it was, I thought it was certainly worthy of being memorialized on my wall.
I made the decision to keep the monster brown primarily on the basis that it had a 50/50 chance at best of surviving the incident. I haven’t kept a fish for a long time so it felt awkward, but Yellow Creek is a stocked, put-and-take fishery, and I knew deep down that keeping the trout was perfectly fine. Since I don’t carry a stringer, I had to haul the fish in my net back to the truck before eventually putting some water in my gear tote to keep it fresh before I prepped it for the taxidermist. I wanted to get some stream-side photos but of course, there wasn’t another fisherman around to help me out. That’s precisely why I keep a folding tripod in my truck at all times because you just never know when you might need it. In this case it allowed me to grab a few nice shots, which this fish certainly deserved.
I hastily measured the fish at 22 inches when I got home after showing it off to Will and Angela. As luck would have it, I still had just enough time to take the fish to Jenalee Kostella of Kostella Taxidermy, which is just a few miles up the road. Not only does Jenaleee do the best fish around, she’s won multiple awards including PA Fish and Boat Commission’s Best Fish award at the 2024 PA State Taxidermist Association’s annual competition. I can’t wait to see what she does with it. In the meantime, I’ll be thinking about a good spot for it on the wall while reminiscing about how a tough morning on the water suddenly turned incredible.