Thursday, March 31st 2011
The wind blew all night long. I woke up sweat in the middle of the dark ... I fished it again!
It had been already 30 days since I started dreaming about a pristine wild brown: a big brown that only lives in few environments, a brown of the Limay River.
I shared my dream experiences with my friends. It's crazy, but I had dreamed with all kinds of fish and fishing situations that then happened. I’m sure someone has gone through the same situation.
With the first lights I got into the water and landed small brownie. I kept fishing with my friends at the river keeper’s pool that had been holding fish over the last couple of days but nothing happened.
We went back to the hotel for breakfast. It turned to be an everlasting meal as we started a long and interesting chat and a tying session as well.
It was almost three o'clock in the afternoon and I could feel tickles and a light sweat on my hands, the fish was calling.
I hastened my friends to go to the river. With the thermos filled with hot water we walked towards the mouth of the Limay River, located 1000 meters from our hotel. When we got there, the wind was hellish and the lake had turned deep blue.
We got to see a school of browns from the road bridge. The majority of the fish weighed 3 to 4 kilos and was located upstream the co close to Neuquén’s bank. They moved very actively. A fisherman caught one that dramatically jumped out of the water. We congratulated him and took some pictures.
During the last few days I noticed that many fishermen used white flies, and after watching them for a while I hit upon the virtues they had.
A few days ago, my friend Carlos Vidal, lost a big one in the middle of the branches beneath the bridge. It jumped like a dolphin and broke the line escaping desperately.
I scrutinized the area in front of the tree but I did not see the fish. I was not worried; I could feel the beast and I were already connected somehow.
I returned to the car and assembled my equipment. I changed the tippet to 20 pound Maxima and tied an articulated black fly 6” long. A fly that Carlitos gave me last year stating: "With this fly we bring to light the big ones". It was a very big fly so I needed to tie it with an improved clinch, as I wanted the quickest response to my commands.
I got down on Rio Negro’s side because I knew from there I would achieve the best presentation to the fish that was holding in front of the tree. I had studied the place and its currents for days, having the chance to observe how lots of different feathers passed by.
I could feel my pulse was racing, the river transmitted me thousands of different feelings, it was hard to stay calmed and rationalize what I was living. If I became euphoric, for sure I was not going to fish a thing.
I checked the knots again and stretched the monofilament running carefully. I stood over a brilliant black stone, knowing the deal was going to be closed from "that" stone. Having a high cliff behind I took the opportunity to execute a shot that Willy Ricigliano taught me many years ago. I enjoyed executing that complicated cast with easy after lots of practice.
Carlos hooked a fish on the opposite bank, I paused to observe the situation, and felt a big gratitude. I made several shots; the line descended from the high back and traveled parallel to the water. The fly went as far as I imagined. I was so grateful to lidocaine for keeping my hand safe; a few days ago I had burned it badly with boiling water.
Luis turned up taking pictures, we chatted briefly, and I did one more cast...
The line flew 25 meters downstream with an angle of 45°, the fly landed 10 meters upstream from the tree. When I tried to move the fly I distinguished the monster as it was coming for it. It sprayed water in every possible direction with its huge tail. I set the hook by pulling with the left hand as the heavy fish swam to the bottom. I had no time to think as it rapidly moved downstream between the tree and the bridges column. I held the rod strongly, trying to turn its head towards me. Luckily it turned (100% by chance) and came upstream.
He would have won if he swam one more meter downstream…
I shouted at Luis like never before!
I could see how tight the line was because of the pressure the fish was doing while it swam beyond my position and anchored 20 meters upstream. Without forcing it to turn downstream, I slowly took him off balance until it got tired of swimming upstream. Angry with the situation he made several short runs upstream and into the center of the river, and all of a sudden it made one single, extra-heavy, high jump.
After a couple of minutes I was able to pull the fish closer. Now I was in the middle of a dilemma. On the one hand, if I walked up the beach for sure I wasn’t going to be able to hold him by the tail; on the other hand, if I brought him close with the rod I could break it because of the forced angle. So, I took the second choice, I was not going to give the beast a chance to roll in shallow waters.
The move was happily successful; I grabbed him by the tail on the first try.
Luis took some photos, and we said goodbye to the trout.
After several days of as a team in the river, we celebrated with great joy our triumph.
I couldn´t explain why, but I knew that was my trout, one of those feelings that occasionally invade us.
Please practice Catch &Release
Tight lines
