I looked at the benefit of the clouds possibly helping the fishing, but after checking the water I knew it wasn't a benefit. The stream ran low and cold, probably in the mid fifties, but the real problem was the lack of water. I had eagerly anticipated visiting my favorite stream after all this time only to find the lowest water level I had ever witnessed here. I repeated to myself the saying you hear all the time, a bad day fishing is better than a good day at work. With that attitude I began my search for the elusive trout of the Mongaup.
I went upstream, skirting some private property and went bushwacking on the opposite side of the river from where I parked. I had not fished this section before, but discovered little pockets of the stream that trout would normally inhabit, and may have been there this day too. Unfortunately, when stream levels reach this point, most trout either move downstream to deeper water, or seek cover during the day and feed at night. At these times they are extremely vulnerable to attack by predators, particularly birds of prey.
Trout That Won't Hit
I continued exploring each and every small pool I encountered hoping to at least catch a glimpse of a curious trout following my lure. I fish almost exclusively for trout with spinning tackle and lures, and have for the past ten years or so. I find it much more challenging than live bait, plus I guess I like the fact that I'm always casting, searching out all areas of a pool, then moving on to the next one. It's a combination of fishing, exploring and exercise that has become one of the passions of my life.
In this manner I also cover a great deal of water. It's been my experience that even if I don't necessarily catch a trout in a pool, if they're present, most of the time one will be curious enough to investigate my offering. After walking about fifteen minutes or so, I found a large pool in a bend in the river. On the first cast multiple trout following my lure, but didn't strike. These were small trout, but I teased them again and one attempted to strike the lure right in front of me.
Due to the height of the weeds I was standing in, I had to remain standing while fishing, because of this that was the last time the trout followed my lure. I believe they saw my shadow or my outline and no matter where I casted in that pool after that, I saw nothing. As I moved downstream it became apparent I would have to cross a branch of the Mongaup to continue down this side of the river. As usual, I did not bring waders, so I experienced exactly how cold the water ran this day in mid October!
"That's allright" I told myself, it'll warm up soon and I'll be fine. Of course, right after this, my lure got snagged in mid stream about forty feet from shore. It was the only broken back rapala I had and didn't want to lose it, so I got to feel the Mongaup's chill all the way up my thighs.
Five Pound Trout
The further I went downstream the more apparent the lack of rain this season in the Catskills. There were little islands in the middle of the river that I've never seen before, and tree roots and rocks exposed indicating where the trout normally take up position. Finally arriving at one of my favorite sections it startled me how low the river was, I would estimate it at four feet lower than normal. I was fairly confident it was going to be an incredible tough day of fishing.
I thought to myself how long it had been since I'd been here and how glad I was that I decided to make the long trip from central New Jersey to here. I moved to New Jersey seven years ago, and had only been here once since then. This was the stream I came to every opening day of trout season for at least ten years. It was the stream where I first had a five pound trout on the end of my rod.
I can picture that sequence to this day, I'll never forget it, I had never felt anything that strong on my line before. The great thing about that hook up, was what followed the initial strike. I knew this was a big fish and in my haste to set the hook, I accidentally clicked off the drag. As I'm reeling and nothing is happening a wave of dread comes over me that I've lost him. When I realize what I did, I'm so angry at myself, so I put the drag back on, convinced he's gone. As I reel up the slack line I feel a sudden surge and the drag is now engaged, he's still on!
That's when, with the sun at my back I see him in the middle of the river shaking his head back and forth, and I realize this is the biggest trout I've ever hooked. As I look around to see where I'm going to beach him, I realize I left my net in the car. It takes a couple of minutes, but I tire him out, pull him up on a little spit of beach and stare down in amazement at this beautiful fish, all of twenty inches and quite thick. I reach down to pull the lure out of his mouth, and he flips up in the air, the lure comes out and I dive down to grab him as he slips through my hands back into the river!
I guess you could consider it a catch, it depends on your perspective, but I didn't. I wasn't going to keep him either, I'm a catch and release fisherman, unless I'm on a camping trip and it's a healthy fishery. I just wanted a picture of that beautiful fish, and maybe to hold him for couple of seconds. The funny thing is I have the picture of him stubbornly fighting me in the middle of that river in my mind and hopefully I'll never lose it.
To a lot of fishermen I know, a five pound trout is a trophy, so I guess you never forget your first encounter with one. I've caught many trout on this stream, none as big as him, but quite a few over two pounds, this was not going to be one of those days.
