Girl catches record trout the size of a turkey
Hugh Koontz
Star Staff Writer
I almost did not believe my eyes. There was the picture, buried on page 6A of the local weekly newspaper, of a girl in tattered jeans holding a rainbow trout that was bigger than last Thanksgivings butterball turkey. She appeared to be straining a bit just to hold it up for the photographer.
You could tell she was proud. She should be. That 20-pound, 3-ounce, fish set a new record for largest rainbow trout caught in North Carolina waters, beating the previous record by about 4 pounds.
Thats a whopper.
I first heard about the record fish from a friend, who referred me to a Web site, which showed a color picture of Leah Johnson and a rather faded-looking trout. Wanting to check this out a little further, since we all know things arent always what they seem on the Internet, I stopped at Brevard and bought a copy of the newspaper. I expected to find the photo on the front page, blown up big, in full color, to proudly proclaim the news to the world. This, after all, was a new state record. It deserved some ink.
Sadly, the lady at the papers office wasnt as excited and couldnt even remember seeing the photo. Perhaps it is in the previous weeks paper. Look inside, on page 6A, she said.
PAGE 6A? A state record. A trout big as a holiday turkey? A once in a lifetime catch? On page 6A?
I could not believe it.
But the girls story was one I could believe. What a lucky gal, I thought. She was out fishing with her boyfriend, she told the newspaper, on the Horsepasture River. It had been a nice, sunny day with mild temperatures. It was a good day to go fishing.
Ill say. Her boyfriend, Chris Woods, had just caught a 15-pound rainbow fishing with worms and he was ready to pack it up for the day. Leah had other ideas. She had been fishing with corn but switched to a Rapala lure, one that resembles a little brown trout and drives huge, carnivorous trout crazy.
It took about 20 minutes to land that pig. Yeehaw ... that had to have been fun. What a lucky girl.
She was fishing with a little wisp of a spinning rod with 8- to 10-pound test line. The rod came from one of the big box stores and cost way less than most any fly rod I ever owned or broke. Thats a mighty testament to the strength of those skinny graphite sticks.
That picture almost made me want to buy a little spinning outfit and go hunting for huge trout in the Horsepasture River. Yeah, me and two zillion other troutaholics last weekend. I gave it the due consideration it deserved and promptly dropped the idea. Instead, I grabbed the old fly rod from its perch on the front porch, walked across the street and started casting a bushy streamer into the riffles.
WIND SLAPPED my face with the brisk chill that says snow is on its way. I could see just a few flakes flicker in the sunlight bouncing off the water. I tossed the fly a little upstream, let it soak and sink, and then gave it a few twitches with the rod tip. There were still huge patches of blue overhead, but darkening clouds were beginning to gather to the north.
On my second cast he hit hard. Wham. The fly line cut one way through the waters surface, drawing a perfectly straight line to the other bank, and then back the other way. This little dance lasted a few minutes, though nothing like the battle of historic proportions that Leah and her fish had on the Horsepasture.
This was a little battle in a larger war. It was not a big trout that I caught. But that little brown, about a foot long, was as beautiful as any sunset over the Smoky Mountains. Ruby red spots against a background of silver and gold made this little delight impossible to duplicate.
I slipped the little jewel back into the river, watching him scoot into the deep water. No state record, but easily a record of sorts for beauty.
It was closer to the size of a turkey wing than to a whole Butterball, and I dont expect it to make page 6A of the local newspaper. Close up and in full color, it was prettier than a state record.
21344-2/9/2006-FF
Hugh Koontz
Star Staff Writer
I almost did not believe my eyes. There was the picture, buried on page 6A of the local weekly newspaper, of a girl in tattered jeans holding a rainbow trout that was bigger than last Thanksgivings butterball turkey. She appeared to be straining a bit just to hold it up for the photographer.
You could tell she was proud. She should be. That 20-pound, 3-ounce, fish set a new record for largest rainbow trout caught in North Carolina waters, beating the previous record by about 4 pounds.
Thats a whopper.
I first heard about the record fish from a friend, who referred me to a Web site, which showed a color picture of Leah Johnson and a rather faded-looking trout. Wanting to check this out a little further, since we all know things arent always what they seem on the Internet, I stopped at Brevard and bought a copy of the newspaper. I expected to find the photo on the front page, blown up big, in full color, to proudly proclaim the news to the world. This, after all, was a new state record. It deserved some ink.
Sadly, the lady at the papers office wasnt as excited and couldnt even remember seeing the photo. Perhaps it is in the previous weeks paper. Look inside, on page 6A, she said.
PAGE 6A? A state record. A trout big as a holiday turkey? A once in a lifetime catch? On page 6A?
I could not believe it.
But the girls story was one I could believe. What a lucky gal, I thought. She was out fishing with her boyfriend, she told the newspaper, on the Horsepasture River. It had been a nice, sunny day with mild temperatures. It was a good day to go fishing.
Ill say. Her boyfriend, Chris Woods, had just caught a 15-pound rainbow fishing with worms and he was ready to pack it up for the day. Leah had other ideas. She had been fishing with corn but switched to a Rapala lure, one that resembles a little brown trout and drives huge, carnivorous trout crazy.
It took about 20 minutes to land that pig. Yeehaw ... that had to have been fun. What a lucky girl.
She was fishing with a little wisp of a spinning rod with 8- to 10-pound test line. The rod came from one of the big box stores and cost way less than most any fly rod I ever owned or broke. Thats a mighty testament to the strength of those skinny graphite sticks.
That picture almost made me want to buy a little spinning outfit and go hunting for huge trout in the Horsepasture River. Yeah, me and two zillion other troutaholics last weekend. I gave it the due consideration it deserved and promptly dropped the idea. Instead, I grabbed the old fly rod from its perch on the front porch, walked across the street and started casting a bushy streamer into the riffles.
WIND SLAPPED my face with the brisk chill that says snow is on its way. I could see just a few flakes flicker in the sunlight bouncing off the water. I tossed the fly a little upstream, let it soak and sink, and then gave it a few twitches with the rod tip. There were still huge patches of blue overhead, but darkening clouds were beginning to gather to the north.
On my second cast he hit hard. Wham. The fly line cut one way through the waters surface, drawing a perfectly straight line to the other bank, and then back the other way. This little dance lasted a few minutes, though nothing like the battle of historic proportions that Leah and her fish had on the Horsepasture.
This was a little battle in a larger war. It was not a big trout that I caught. But that little brown, about a foot long, was as beautiful as any sunset over the Smoky Mountains. Ruby red spots against a background of silver and gold made this little delight impossible to duplicate.
I slipped the little jewel back into the river, watching him scoot into the deep water. No state record, but easily a record of sorts for beauty.
It was closer to the size of a turkey wing than to a whole Butterball, and I dont expect it to make page 6A of the local newspaper. Close up and in full color, it was prettier than a state record.
21344-2/9/2006-FF
