Trout sisters

We continued on, bend after bend, pulling more and more fish from all the usual spots. But as the January mercury continued to rise the hopes of meeting our challenge and landing a big one began to fade. With two bends to go, things were getting dire. The boat ramp was fast approaching and we were in need of a genuine buzzer beater. Pushing through a flat, slow section, riddled with snags and enroute to the second last section of productive water before day's end, Mum cried out, “I’m on, it's big!” My first reaction was one of annoyance. Knowing we were passing over a bunch of heavy-duty log jams I assumed Mum had got herself tangled on one and a case of re-rigging was inevitable. However, snapping my neck around to see the damage, I was met with a bouncing rod tip brought to life by the reaction of any angry trout. It is often difficult to tell how big a fish is when hooked down below and you're not the one holding the rod, however given the rod tip resembled a cordial fuelled toddler loose on a trampoline, the fish had to be good. The rod was bent over on itself and, despite my cries to get the rod tip upwards pointing to the sky, Mum couldn’t seem to heave it up. It was what we came for. Abandoning its efforts to bury itself on the bottom of the river in the crevasse of the aforementioned log jams, the fish took a new tack and decided to head off downstream. Tearing line from the reel, for a moment, Mum would have had better chance of putting the brakes on a plummeting elevator. But she gathered her angling skills, refined throughout the day, and was able to wrestle control back. She was soon cradling a solid Tumut River trout. Box ticked. It’s great when a plan comes together.  

Read the full version of Trout sisters here