It was like that knife fight in a phone booth you hear about; I’d never seen anything like it.
I’ve got this Ethiopian kid out trolling with me on Ross Lake. Never caught a fish in his life. We’re just about back to the dock, hav- ing caught zip, when his rod slams down hard against the gunnel. I’m sure he’s snagged on the bottom so I
quickly back paddle. “Snag?” I yell. “Fish!” Solomon yells back. “Sure?” “It’s a fish alright!!” I look at the rod and sure enough, it’s spastic. “Give him line,” I shout. The rod is like
WRRAAAH taut and about to dent the rail. “Let go of the handle!” Then, this fish, biggest thing I’d ever seen
in the lake, comes flying up out of the water, tumbling head over tail and splooshes so close we’re doused! The kid’s in a tunnel with no ears for me.
There is no question of playing this fish; it’s man-versus-beast for Solomon. You don’t play fish, he’s thinking, you fight them! The rod is tattooing the rail of the boat and I
know it’ll be all over any second. But I shut up and get the net and watch, transfixed. Solomon lays the wood. He’s 16 and ripped so the wood is considerable. The fish is swimming for its life. Solomon’s face is set and grim. He’s haul- ing on the rod and reefing on the handle. The kid has a chance; I’d tied the heaviest tippet I could find through the eye of his fly before we left the dock. It was
like the 91-second Tyson/Spinks
fight—I just knew it wouldn’t last. Our only chance was a quick knock out. Just before the hook pulls, I swing the net at the first sight of a fin and there it was—the largest fish to come out of the lake that year! Some serious fist bumps and high fives followed. Amazingly, the fish was caught twice. Later that day, as we were unloading the boat, Sol dropped the tro- phy trout overboard and we had to snag it off the bottom to save the day—and the story. Memories of that catch flash through my
mind as I’m running a skiff up Ross Lake late one afternoon last July. Sunlight glints off pocket snowfields high on Jack Mountain to the east while steep walls of dark fir rise from the lakeshore. Straight ahead, 20 miles of deep, flooded canyon stretch to the north across the Canadian border. I hug the steep west bank to dodge the wind
as I race to catch up with my mates who are waiting on a little island up ahead. It felt good to be back on the lake again, smelling that crisp mountain air with nothing more to do than get after those big rainbow and bull trout. It was hot as a biscuit, but the lake water was cool. It had been two years since the twice-caught-
STEVE THOMSEN CAUGHT THIS FAT RAINBOW ON A RED-
SIDED SHINER FLY PATTERN. PHOTO: STEVE THOMSEN
Popular opinion is these invasive little fish had sneaked into Ross around the turn of the century via a fisherman’s bait bucket. The resident bull and rainbow trout fattened up on these Mississippi Valley native baitfish. This may sound like a dream scenario for anglers, but there are storm clouds on the horizon.
trout and the fishing in the lake had reportedly improved. Credit the lowly red-sided shiner for that. Popular opinion is these invasive little fish
had sneaked into Ross around the turn of the century via a fisherman’s bait bucket. The resident bull and rainbow trout fattened up on these Mississippi Valley-native baitfish. This may sound like a dream scenario for anglers, but there are storm clouds on the horizon. Shiners have been implicated in the decline
of native fish populations in other lakes where they’ve been introduced. At first, the native fish grow fat and happy on the new-found manna. Meanwhile, the shiners eat native fish eggs and
compete with fry for food. Studies of other red-side invasions reveal a boom and bust pattern. Ross is somewhere in the climax or post-boom phase. Tom Barnett, owner of Ross Lake Resort told me that he’s not seeing nearly as many 20- inch rainbows this season as in recent years. Scientists at Cascades National Park are working hard to get a
handle on the invasion. Ashley Rawhouser, an aquatic ecologist at the park, says that the char population has increased 200 to 400 per- cent. Rainbow trout are another problem. “My guess,” he said, “is that the adult trout are do- ing well with the new forage, but the immature trout may have a hard time competing with the shiners for food.” Research on the invasive spe- cies is underway, meanwhile, it’s surfs up for fishermen. An extraordinary body of water, Ross Lake
is fed by the once free-flowing Skagit River that drains the wilds of British Columbia. The river now flows south across the international border at Hozomeen, 22 miles up-lake from
www.kayakanglermag.com…71
‘BOWSon
ROSS LAKE BULLS
and
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