A Chance at Redemption

Friday, July 21, 2009. Ray and Dale are long time fishing buddies with Chuck and started fishing with him years before I joined the group. The three of them took me on my first fly-fishing trip and I’ve fished with them many times since. Sometimes my trip is with Ray, sometimes with Ray and Dale, but always with Chuck. With my main fishing buddy planning to be out of town a lot over the summer and already gone for a week the time had come for me to branch out. Dale sent an email that began several exchanges about my last experience on Mossy Creek and eventually asking what I was doing on Friday… “I think I’m going to the Mossy with you!” was my quick reply.

Yes! I’m already heading back to the Mossy just a week and half since I lost that monster. Maybe I’ll get another chance. The ride up with Dale was great. Lots of talking and getting to know each other better and two and half hours later we’re deciding which section of the creek to fish first. I knew what I wanted – the lower section where I had caught all of my Mossy fish. He agreed and by 8:30 we were geared up and dropping below the bridge. I had replaced the San Juan Worm flies lost on the last trip with an order that arrived just two days before. The order was for all pink but the seller threw in an extra green one saying he had caught both Rainbows and Smallmouth with that color. I tied on the extra fly and made a few casts with no interest from the fish. I was working my way to where the big fish were feeding, the place I had broken off the monster Rainbow. This is no time to play around. The green worm fly was taken off and a pink San Juan Worm tied on… tight. We carefully approached the trees that marked the stretch that held some of the biggest fish in the creek. Dale stood very still behind two small trees as I stood about 30 feet up stream and off the bank so as to not spook the fish. We were both scouting out feeding trout to cast towards when Dale quietly called out that he could see a big dark fish in a feeding lane on the far bank. “Go get him Dale!” I said, though quietly disappointed I hadn’t spotted the fish. “No, if I move from this spot he’ll see me and I’ll spook him. You get him.”

Such generosity could not be turned down. I dropped to my knees and inched toward the bank to get in position, staying as low as possible to keep from spooking the fish. He wasn’t the fish that had been lost on the last trip but was definitely big. The trout was on the far bank and it would take a good cast to get the fly into his lane. I made a few false casts up and down the bank to get out enough line without spooking him. With several yards of line in the air I directed the cast towards the far bank about three feet up stream from the trout. The fly drifted close and he darted to take it but missed. Shoot! In one motion the line was off the water and cast again to the same spot. The trout saw the fly coming and again struck at it but missed! Trout are unlikely to strike a fly they’ve already missed once and even more unlikely to come back for it a third time. But I had to try. With a sense of urgency the line was in the air and the fly almost immediately back into the feeding lane. We both watched as the dark fish moved to strike with a look of determination not to miss. The hungry trout engulfed the fly. “He’s got it!” Dale cried out. I set the hook and stood up to start the fight. This is why I came… to hook a big fish and get it right this time, to finally land a big one.

Following the advice of a guide familiar with Mossy Creek I was using my new 3-weight fly rod instead of my usual 5-weight. The 3-weight rod is lighter and shorter than my 5-weight, and for big fish was something I hadn’t considered using. His advice was huge as playing the large trout on the shorter and lighter rod was much smoother than my last fight had been. With memories of my recent mistake fresh in mind I took my time with this fish. He made a run down stream and I let him go. He ran upstream and I stripped in the slack. Back and forth he darted around the stream. I gave him all the time he needed, just making sure to keep him out of the weeds and brush. Dale waited patiently on the bank with his net. Finally the trout tired and, having been worked close to the shore, Dale netted him and ran up the bank. I had done it! I had redeemed myself. The trout was smaller than the fish broken off on the last trip but was still one of which I could be proud. I had landed a big one at the Mossy. The Rainbow measured 18 and a half inches, was dark in color, and strong even on shore. Kneeling on the ground with the trout and fly rod across my lap Dale quickly took a picture. I carefully held the fish in the water to let him regain his strength and then swim back into the current.

A text message of what I’d just done was sent to Tracey and Chuck. It was only 9:30. The feelings after the fish was released were surprising. It wasn’t as much a feeling of elation as it was of redemption and also completion. It was as if catching this nice Rainbow Trout was as meant to be as losing the other large Rainbow had been a week and a half before. I had come here for a purpose and that purpose had been achieved. I was at peace with Mossy Creek.

Thanking Dale again for allowing me to go after that trout he said he was glad to do it, he knew I needed a big fish. He was right. I didn’t catch a single other fish that day. Dale caught four – three in the morning and one in the afternoon. Catching only one fish that day didn’t matter. I had landed a fish that let me feel, as a fly-fisherman, I had finally arrived.

copyright 2009 Rick Ridpath