“Call me Ishmael”

It began at 1:15 one glorious fall afternoon and ended some twenty minutes later with the Beast safely in the landing net. 

Although not typically my nature to do so, I had prepared well for my outing that day.  We were in pursuit of truly trophy rainbows and I knew my gear had to be very thoughtfully readied.  I tied and then re-tied my new 0 X fluorocarbon leader, ensuring the nail knot was flawless.  I carefully inspected the blood knot securing the three feet of 0 X tippet to my leader.  I washed and dressed my fly line.  The last preparation that I made was to spool-up with 250 yards of new 25 lb test, small diameter backing.  I was to be glad that I had.I was fishing that day with Rick Goett.  It’s been over twelve years since I first fished with Rick and we still try to get out on the water together at least once a year.  I consider Rick to be a flyfishing savante, and so when he offered me a couple of flies before heading out on the water, I quickly accepted and knotted one on. 

For a number of years, Lake Diefenbaker had been surrendering huge rainbows.  2007 saw the establishment of several new line-class records as well as a new world, all-tackle record for rainbow trout.  Rick and I had both been following these events closely and figured that we had a pretty good idea of where to go in search of these behemoths. 

“Smile”, Rick said as he snapped a picture of me bouncing on the turbulent water.  It had been almost three hours since we launched our pontoon boats and neither of us had had so much as a ‘hit’.  Jokingly, I called back to Rick that he can later tell people that this was the picture he took right before I caught ‘the big one’.  How prophetic. 

There is something different about the way a large fish takes a fly.  I don’t know if it’s the often hard ‘take’ or the steady and sustained way that they strip line but it is surely unmistakeable.  “Fish.  Big fish”, I called out.  With my rod doubled I looked down to see that the Beast had already taken the twenty feet of line that had been puddled on my apron and the remaining fifty feet from my reel.  He was well into my backing and running hard.  With the fighting butt of my 8-weight pressed firmly into my chest, I dumbly watched the backing fly off my spool, my reel singing. 

His first run ended in a spectacular jump – with the Beast coming entirely out of the water.  I estimated his distance to be about 200 yards away;  500 plus feet into my backing.  I was wishing I had opted for a larger arbour reel that day as the great fish began to surrender ‘ground’.  I knew from occasions past that slack and knots can develop if fly line and backing are not guided back onto the reel under gentle pressure.  I knew too, that this fish would forgive no mistakes.  Keeping pressure on the backing with my off-hand, I guided the backing onto the reel ensuring it spooled evenly. 

The rod tension then eased and frantically I stripped line – hand over hand – as the Beast now began swimming towards me.  With backing and fly line puddled on my apron, I was glad to have taken the time to dress my line the night prior as again, line and backing shot through the rod guides. The Beast was running again. 

With the Beast back on the reel I was again now able to start picking up line.  I had kicked my way from the turbulent seam in which I had hooked him to the slack nearshore waters.  I beached my pontoon boat, kicked off my fins and stood knee-deep on the firm, sandy bottom.  I could now begin to fight the Beast without his added advantage of current. 

Twice more he was to run with runs just as powerful as his first and second but lessening in distance.  Seeing the leader I lifted my rod to raise the fish.  My heart nearly stopped as the Beast gave the most fantastic head-shake I have ever experienced.  Although the fight had nearly entirely gone in my favour, the head-shake reminded me that the Beast could still easily throw my fly and best me in this battle. 

In the end, the Beast quietly surrendered to the net. 

The great fish taped at 30” total length and 24” girth.  Having never fished Diefenbaker before I had anticipated him to be ‘washed-out’ in appearance, but the colours and spotting of this specimen certainly were not to disappoint. 

The Beast tipped the scales at 20 lbs 6 oz. - a very remarkable fish and an equally memorable day.