Last-minute spot change ends with my biggest wild brown trout ever | Trip Report

The wild brown trout that saved my trip.

The night before my last fishing trip, I faced a tough decision. I could either make a two-hour drive to New Jersey’s Stokes State Forest where I expected some wild brown and brook trout awaited in the woods, or I could go to more familiar, and more suburban waters closer to home.

In the end, the thought of spending the day truly in the wild on new waters was too strong a temptation, and I woke up (too) early and headed two hours to the Northwest.

When I made it to the parking area and stream section I’d researched, I had mixed feelings. While it was no doubt a beautiful setting, the area was surrounded by campsites full of people on this warmer-than-usual, mid-March Saturday. Not exactly the solitude I was seeking.

Making matters worse, a sign on a tree in front of my car declared, to my dismay, that this was a stocked section of the river, one that closes to trout during the spring stocking season, and not the catch-and-release only section full of wild trout that I thought it would be.

The first river looked better than it fished.

Having driven so far, I forged ahead anyway, frustrated but hoping some wild trout also inhabited what was still an idyllic mountain stream.

But three hours of careful fishing and difficult wading, numerous fly changes, and repeated run-ins with day hikers later, I was fishless and more than a little disappointed how the day I’d looked forward to all week had turned out.

Another beautiful, fishless hole.

As I headed back to the car, I had another big decision to make. Either I could forge ahead downstream, drive to another spot I’d never been to on the same river, or drive halfway home and hit one of the streams I’d decided to pass on the night before.

With three hours until I needed to leave to make it home in time to walk The Dog, and after much dithering on what to do, I chose a small stream an hour away that I’d fished once last winter.

The section of this particular river was supposed to have wild brook and brown trout, and having been there, I knew for sure it hadn't been stocked in years and was managed as a wild trout stream by the state.

But I also knew that the one time I had fished it, I found only a few good holes worth casting to and caught no fish.

Still, I was confident my chances of avoiding a skunk were better there than where I had been fishing all morning. And I had one great spot close to the parking lot in mind.

Pulling into the parking area, it looked like all eight spots were taken, with lots of people out enjoying the walking and biking trail that ran along the stream. But before giving up and backing out, a sliver of a spot appeared at the end of the lot closest to the stream, and I squeezed my car into it as best I could. It would do.

Ironically, the one hole I was most looking forward to fishing most was partially visible from my seat in the parked car. And with the water levels up, it looked even better than the first time I saw it.

As I got out and grabbed my gear, I watched as a strong current swept around a laydown into a slower, deeper hole with tree branches hanging over it. At maximum, the stream here was 10 feet across.

I chose a hooper-dropper combo, with an olive double trouble from Allegheny Native tied at the end.

It was a tricky task to get my flies to the top of the hole without snagging in the branches waiting just two feet above the surface of the water. But with some creative side casts I managed.

On my first good cast, my hopper went underwater briefly in the middle of the pool, and I lifted the tip to find nothing attached. With my confidence low from my unsuccessful morning, I assumed my weighted nymph had simply pulled the hopper under when it reached the deepest section.

So I made another cast.

In the very same spot, my hopper plunged under again, but harder this time. I hit it and was truly shocked to find something pulling back. And hard.

Having spent most my time the last two months fishing for tiny brook trout, I knew right away this was not one of those.

My first glimpse confirmed my suspicion: a 14-inch wild brown trout was desperately trying to throw the barbless hook at the end of my line.

With my adrenaline pumping, I was able to fight him into a slower pool and awkwardly get him in the net. When I did, I looked down and could hardly believe it.

My reward for a day of grinding.

It was the biggest wild brown trout I’d ever caught, and it was a beauty. My hail-may effort to avoid the skunk had paid off big time, with a lifelong memory.

And it will live on mostly in my memory, because other than a decent short release video of you can see here on my Instagram page, I failed to get even one good photo. My hands were literally shaking from the shock of the catch, my thoughts were scrambled and I wanted to release this mighty creek monster as quickly as possible.

After another 45 minutes of fishing, and with my mission complete, I decided to pack it in and head home, grateful that even in the most populous state in the Union, even in 2024, you could still find some wild trout.

SONG OF THE TRIP

Check out more from Fishing On Fire with our social accounts below…