Wickiup... One Last Shot

After a bunch of phone tag, RD and I finally connected to go over highlights of our late August fishing trip to Wickiup. My boat had hit it hard, while he had been more limited, with his family along to camp and have fun outside of pure trophy trout hunting. Wickiup is such a monster of a lake, and it has taken years of time on the water and trading notes with other fishermen to attain the partial grasp that I have gained to date, so these post trip dialogs are quite important and valuable to the slow and never ending process of mastering this trophy brown trout fishery. After thoroughly going over details, ol’ Coyote mentioned that he had received a random green light from his wife to run off and get a serious fishing trip in for the upcoming weekend. These are dangerous words to throw my way, as I have an uncanny ability to clear my schedule and make the time to sneak off on spontaneous fishing trips… not always a good thing, lol! Ironically, a couple days later I got word of a 19 pound hookjaw being caught and that secured the plan. It was on!!

We got to the lake too late to fish on Friday night but we threw in the boat and readied ourselves for a full blown assault the next morning. We woke to the typical mystic morning fog and motored up the Deschutes arm towards the boundary line and decided to try some casting. The water was still very high for late summer, but had come down a good two feet from three weeks prior and the water temps had dropped considerably too, which gave way for potential to finding more big fish in shallow water. There wasn’t an ounce of wind which is less than ideal for the casting drill but it was a peaceful way to kick of the trip despite the lack of action. After an hour and a half of nothing we decided to deep six our lures and troll the stumps at 25-30 ft. In no time RD’s rod got hit hard and after a few moments of line ripping from his reel the fish shook the lure and was gone. We trolled around the arm for a while longer with no more action and decided to work our way out into the main lake where we stuck all of our better fish on the previous trip. The fog lifted and the sun rose to a mostly clouded sky that stayed that way for most of the day. We picked up a fish here and there to 4 ½ pounds as the hours ticked off, but no big boys wanted to play.

After that began a bit of a drought. Four hours passed without a bump as the barometer destabilized. With a healthy wind now blowing we decided to seek the shelter of the Deschutes arm. It just made sense that if no toads were hitting nor being seen on the graph in the main lake, they must be working their way towards the spawning grounds… It was late September, after all. We trolled our way up scratching the bottom and getting hung up regularly in hopes of dredging up a good fish, but once we hit our favorite casting grounds and saw how nicely the wind was setting up for a drift, we decided to change gears. It was approaching 6 o’clock, and just as we coasted into our honey hole the clouds broke up and you could almost feel the barometer start to rise. I got a strike right off the bat and our guts told us that we were on the right track. Ten minutes later, my lure got pummeled and it was big fish on and going ballistic! Hanging deep and then exploding on the surface with golden fall colors flashing in the evening sunshine. I had died and gone to heaven! With the big buck finally subdued, Coyote slipped the net under him and we high fived joyfully with our first trophy brown of the trip in the bag. He was just shy of 7 pounds and a solid 26 inches long. He cooperated nicely for a brief photo shoot and I set him free.

Three casts later I was hooked up again with a much smaller fish but a fun little scrapper none the less. While working him to the boat, RD proclaimed “Holy crap, look at this!”. I looked over at his lure approaching the boat and saw an 8-9 pound hookjaw circling his lure with indecision before deciding “No thanks”, and slowly swimming back to the green depths. That made for a very exciting 15 minutes and we drifted on down the line casting with big smiles and major anticipation. 30 minutes or so passed with no more takes until, BOOM!... Another strong fish arrested my lure with authority. This one stayed deep the whole time and slowly peeled line as he headed away from the boat. I just held onto my deeply arched pole until he tired from the pressure and then slowly worked him back towards us like a stubborn pit bull. Finally, he too landed in the net and we saw that he was indeed built like a pit with a 25 inch length and just heavy of 7 pounds. The bite slowed to a halt after that release, but we were so fat and happy that it didn’t matter. As we faded out in the tent that night I said to RD… “Today was mine, but tomorrow will be the day of the Coyote…”

Sunday morning was oddly clear and void of fog. Despite the lack of wind once again, we just had to start off casting. There was a lot more activity on the surface than the previous day and we were frothing with visions of trophy hookjaws dancing on our lines. To no avail however… they were not interested in our shallow running offerings, so we decided to send our lures down towards the stumps once again to try a different approach while we waited for a breeze to come up. An hour later we realized the wisdom of our decision when RD’s rod folded and the battle was on with a good fish. At last RD was on the board with a nice hookjaw of 5 pounds.

We picked up a few more fish as we trolled around including three big male kokanee that were still bright enough to look tasty so into the ice chest they went. Finally, the wind came up and we wasted no time in setting ourselves up to wind drift our money run from the night before. It took some time and many casts before RD’s lure took the hit we were looking for. A golden-orange hookjaw battled around the boat for a few minutes before coming aboard. It was RD’s personal best trout for casting and a dandy at that, weighing in at 6+ pounds. I had called it right the night before and we were now both on top of the world with nicely punched scorecards.

Not long later The Coyote howled again as another big brown put the smack down on his special vintage lure that I must keep unnamed. I will say that chartreuse was a key color… Both of my 7’s were caught on the same lure the day before. I made a promise to the guy who shared this lure with me that I would not name this lure and it hasn’t been made for over 20 years anyway so it’s a struggle to come up with one or two a year on ebay as it is. Back to the fish… he stayed deep and pulled really hard for a few minutes before throwing the hooks. Soon thereafter it was time to pull out and it was back to the valley for these two trophy trout hunters.

Our trip total was 17 fish, with 13 of those browns. 4, 4 ½, 5, 6, and the two 7’s were the noteworthy catches. Next trip will be old mother Paulina in late October. I’ve never caught a fish over 5 pounds out of that lake so I have a bit of a sore spot for her, but we all know the very real potential that she holds… we will see if she’s ready to throw down for me or not… HA!