By Rex Hunt
I have loved trout fishing since 1961 when I caught a brownie weighing two pounds – on the old scale – and yes, of course, on a worm just drifting down the run. It was opening morning 1961 and I was fishing the Macalister River below Lake Glenmaggie in east Gippsland, Victoria.
In 1964 I bought David Scholes’ little masterpiece, The Way of an Angler. This inspired me to get my first fly rod and away I went. I have been trout fishing ever since. But, until recently, I have never had the desire to chase huge trout. With the cheap airfares it is better for me to travel to Tassie than to fish in my own backyard here in Victoria.
I have been having some great fly fishing on the rivers that feed into the Derwent below Meadowbank Dam. On clear water days I’ll fly fish, and when the water is high and coloured I spin with my favourite lures like Vibrax and Celtas.
On a recent trip, my local fishing buddy, David, had pointed me in the direction of some wonderful fast water fishing. Casting with stimulators and dropper nymphs, I had a wonderful session with 15 brown trout from 300 g to 1.4 kilos. When the fishing slowed, we decided to grab a meal and a drink and take our time to drop me off at the airport.
With a couple of hours to spare he suggested that I grab my spinning outfit and some plastics and try to snare a big trout from the Derwent below Meadowbank Dam.
The area is famous for its XOS brown trout, but there are hundreds of casts between chances. What the heck, isn’t that what fishing is all about? I was using a soft plastic of some 3 inches in length and ever so slowly working it up along the bottom of the riverbed and retrieved the plastic almost to my feet in the slightly tannin water.
Suddenly I was hit right at my feet and there was a hell of a splash and the fish was gone. We both estimated this monster at around the 5 to 6 kilo mark. I mean it was big – really big. I was feeling a little bit down as I firmly believed I had blown my chance at this fish of a lifetime. I mean, how many times, anywhere in the world, do you get a chance like that. But, David convinced me to continue.
He lectured me about my favourite subject – perseverance. Well, I did persevere, until I was almost numb in my casting arm. He also said that blokes fish for years just to catch one of these rippers. Well I did not have years, I had another hour to fish and then a two hour drive to catch my plane home over Bass Strait.
I had just about given up the ghost when my lure became snagged along a deep edge off the current in about 12 feet of water. I gave the line a couple of solid rips and the ‘snag’ moved. It then moved again – against the current. I was connected, like really connected, to something substantial, something much more substantial than the fish that took the lure an hour earlier.
After 50 minutes of painstakingly playing the trout, a massive brown trout came to the surface only feet from where I was standing. I can remember my thoughts. How big is this and, more importantly, how am I going to land such a monster? I edged into the water and immediately sank into the streamside silt up to my knees.
I gently brought the monster within grabbing range where I gave it the bear hug of a lifetime. I must say it was the crudest Jimmy Allan comfort lift I have ever used on trout, and I have caught thousands of them.
I struggled to shore and lay the giant trout on the grassy bank. Not speaking for a minute, I just stared and admired my glorious capture. I quickly summoned David to fire up the camera as I gently washed the trout clean. After a nice shot, I gently placed my trophy into the river and gave it encouragement to swim away. There was not much encouraging required. With a strong flip of its massive tail the giant trout swam off into the depths of the mighty Derwent River. Opinions of its weight were exchanged and we came up with between 7 and 7.5 kilos.
For the record, my gear was a Shimano T Curve 2–3 kg spinning rod matched with a Stella 2500FB spinning reel loaded with 6lb Maxima green mono and a Tassie Yep soft plastic in pumpkin seed colour.
This was the thrill of my entire fishing career, which has spanned over 55 years and taken me to all points of the planet. The big sea run browns of Tasmania are unique and so special.
This is why we all go fishing. This is why we all persevere.
Sometimes miracles do happen in the piscatorial world.
Go get ’em folks and, above all, persevere.
