After a recent fishing trip in Canada, I put some photos of wildflowers and insects on Facebook.
A lifelong friend sent a note that said in effect: We’ve seen the bait, where’s the fish?
It got me thinking about anglers and fish stories. The bottom line is that if you don’t have either a dead fish or some photos, must people don’t believe anglers when they talk about fishing.
That made me think of a wilderness lake in Canada where the trout rivaled Chinook salmon in size and strength. They were the biggest trout I’d ever seen. And getting photos of them were tough for reasons I’ll explain later.
The lake will remain nameless because I promised my friend who found it, Ken Sunderland, that I wouldn’t reveal it. I’d met Ken at another lake in British Columbia and we discovered we both had a Jones for giant trout.
We’d fish all day and tie flies all night trying to catch the biggest one.
Ken had been telling me about no-name lake for three years and to be honest, I had trouble believing him because I hadn’t seen any photos.
At the time, the biggest rainbow trout I’d ever caught in a lake was 15 pounds. Ken told me that if I came with him to no-name lake, there would soon be a time when I would catch a 15-pounder there and I would wish that it would jump and throw the hook because I wouldn’t want to waste the time or the energy on fighting a fish that small.
To shorten the story, I’ll just admit right now that he was right.
We went to the lake with his father and a family friend. It was a giant lake and you had to cover a lot of water to find a fish, so we all fished alone, carrying radios to contact each other if we needed help.
I caught a lot of nice fish. A finally begged Ken’s Dad by radio to come take a picture of one that weighed in at 18.8 pounds on a digital scale. It wasn’t the biggest fish I caught on the trip, but it was the biggest one I have a picture of. Ken’s Dad came a long way to get the shot and I will always be grateful.
Ken was hoping to catch a 30-pounder. We’d seen some fish that looked that big.
One day when I was nearby with my camera, he caught one that was at least 25 pounds and maybe bigger.
He carefully lifted it from the net for a quick photo and it flopped around enough to head back into the lake.
Ken was mortified, I’m assuming, because he thought he wouldn’t have the evidence of the fish of a lifetime, both to prove his catch to others and to enjoy it himself without harming the fish.
I caught a quick shot of the rainbow and another of Ken’s face as he dropped it.
I hope you enjoy the latter as much as I do.
As to the whereabouts of the lake. Don’t ask.
I’ve never gone back. But I do have pictures.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
