Trout season is in full swing. Most streams are in pretty good shape and have some trout left. In-season stockings are going on and mild weather is a welcome change from some of the downright cold weather we’ve had. The overall average trout that I have seen have been larger than some years and it seems there are more big trout being caught this year than usual.
Big of course is relative. To me, a nice trout is in the 14- to 17-inch range. Anything 18 inches and over is a big one. 20 inches and over are considered trophy size. Anything over 24 inches is a true monster. The state puts some big fish out there, but wild fish of this size do exist, but they are rare and a different breed to catch. Even stocked breeders of prodigious size often possess an innate sense of how to avoid a hook.
Huge brown trout inhabit the Great Lakes feeder streams and those lake run fish are in a different category than normal stream fish. When it comes to stream trout, any trout of any species over 20 inches is a trophy. The exception among the species is the brook trout. Even stocked brookies rarely exceed the 15-inch mark, and you have to go pretty far north or pretty far from a road to find a big brook trout. The state’s “select waters” hold big trout of all species and are a good place to start if you want to get a photo of a big trout.
My personal best trout of PA was a wild brown from a stream that shall remain unnamed. That hook-jawed beast was caught on a nightcrawler that laid on the bottom near his hiding spot for what seemed like an eternity before he slipped out from under the roots and sucked it down. I was quite sure he watched it for a long time before he decided it was safe to eat. I released that fish and he must have moved because I fished that area often and I never saw him again. That fish taped out at an honest 24 inches, with a big head and tapered, but not thin body.
One of my favorite big trout stories involves a friend who was fly fishing in a northern tier county. He was fly fishing and working a section of stream that had a number of stocked rainbows. These fish had been fished over quite a bit and as we all know, even stocked trout can get a chip on their shoulder.
After making multiple casts, drifts, and fly changes, nothing was getting close to hooking up with this “greenie.” Only the maddening continual sipping of an indiscernible insect kept my friend trying to catch this trout, which was estimated to be around 10 inches long.
Finally, he tied the right guess on, and the formerly snooty trout snarfed it down like a piece of candy. Happy with life’s small victories, my friend lifted up on the fly rod and the fight, for what it was worth, was on. One jump and a short run and the little ‘bow was about to give up, when a brownish yellow rocket shot up off of the bottom of the hole and t-boned the little rainbow.
The big brown paused for a second with the little rainbow in its jaws, then swirled and dove back into the depths, snapping the leader with ease. At times like these, there is not much to do except realize that you have just witnessed the way nature operates. He estimated the trout to be in the upper 20 to near 30 inch class. That hole was fished quite a few times afterwards with a variety of lures and baits, but the fish was never seen again.
I have previously written about the biggest stream trout I ever hooked. To shorten the story, it was on Penns Creek during the spinner fall of the green drake hatch. After dark, the big, fat lazy trout come out and feast on the scads of dead drakes floating down the creek. I put a spinner in the right spot, hooked up, and proceeded to fight what I think was a big brown. That fish had a lot of power, and after a few runs, with my heart pounding, I thought I might have a chance of landing it. The fish, however, had other plans and took off downstream through the riffles. I tried to run after it, but stumbling in the dark, I could not keep up and he broke me off. Keep in mind after dark I take my tapered leader off and run a straight piece of good 6-pound test line, just so I can handle the bigger fish after dark. That fish snapped 6 pounds like it was nothing.
It’s another one of those moments I think about at night when I’m laying in bed, about to go to sleep. I would like to think that both of the fish in those stories are still alive, hiding in the depths of a distant hole, waiting for their next, unsuspecting meal.
Ken Maurer, Herndon, is a licensed fishing guide and a regular contributor to the Outdoor Section. He can be reached at kenroseguide@gmail.com.
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