John Jewett and I met up last weekend with the intention of finding one of those glorious, giant brown trout that lurk beneath the surface of our Central Oregon waters.

We would begin our trip in the Newberry Caldera fishing East Lake.

Day 1: Legal opening-bell rang very early Saturday morning (4:24am), and we got started about 45-minutes later. The morning was slow as we looked for our first signs of fish. It was warm and, without any wind, the lake’s surface was furrowed only by the passage of our boat.

We got our first hook-up around 7am top-lining a Bomber Long-A in <20ft of water. We lost the fish but decided it would be wise to make another pass through the same stretch. To get back to that section of water, we made a long, wide turn that allowed us to keep our lines out and our baits trolling.  As we turned, we moved out into deep water, top-lining through 100 feet of depth.  We looked forward to the shallow shelf that lay ahead where we eagerly anticipated another hook-up. With that shallow shelf still in the distance, and 80 feet of water below us, my rod slammed down in my hand. “FISH ON!!!” I yelled, as Jewett threw the boat into neutral and started reeling his own line in. As the boat slowed to a stop, I could tell I had a nice fish on the end of my line. It was still early in the battle, and most of my line was still out, when a big, bright fish took flight 50 yards behind the boat. He jumped from the water like no big brown I have ever seen, and returned with a splash we were sure everyone on the lake could hear. Jewett and I looked at each other, each in shock by what we had just seen, and knew we needed to get this fish in the net.

After a prolonged battle, I had managed to work the fish close to us, but it remained beneath the boat and out of sight. With Jewett ready with the net, I worked to draw the fish to the surface. We stared into East, watching anxiously as my leader slowly returned to my reel, and were amazed to see a massive hook-jawed head emerge from the depths. Jewett immediately threw the net around the fish, and I stood in disbelief as we landed the unbelievable trophy brown. 

The insane hook-jaw on this buck's massive head was the thing of legend.  The very thing we had long sought after.  Holding him in the net, his oversized skull made him seem much bigger than he actually measured.  Although he did not his the arbitrary hawg-makr of 10 lbs, this fish was truly an EPIC hawg.  He measured 29 inches and 9 lbs.  After some quick photos, he was released.  I'm sure when he's done fattening up on kokanne this summer, someone will find him this fall and he'll be 10 or 11 lbs at least.

After settling down a bit, we got back to the troll. We landed two more average fish before 9am and missed a few more. After 9am things slowed down significantly and we only landed one more fish all day, missing a half-dozen strikes and temporary hook-ups.

On a side-note: Prior to the trip, Jewett imported a bathymetric map of East Lake onto his phone. We were then able to use the GPS function on his phone to precisely follow depth contours on the map, mark exactly where we had hits and took fish, and track our trolling patterns over time. This proved to be an extremely valuable technology that expertly complimented our depth finder.

Day 2: We started around 5:30am on Sunday, and again had a slow morning. We managed to pick up a few strikes around 8am but nothing stayed hooked. We decided to alter our strategy and drop our bait down and out of the upper water column. Firing up the downriggers for the first time, we dropped out baits down to 20-30ft. We picked up two more average fish trolling with the downriggers, but the bite remained slow. With takes growing rarer at East, the siren’s song of Wickiup grew louder and we decided to pack up camp at East around 1pm and head down to Wicki.

While Saturday was a beautiful day on East, some low pressure was developing on Sunday and an ominous wind was blowing hard by the time we arrived at Wickiup. We got out on the choppy water around 5pm and stayed mainly in the Deschutes arm to stay protected from the wind. Wicki was pretty rough that evening, and only shared with us a single 15 inch brown.

Day 3: Wicki got started in a very familiar manner Monday morning and we found no evidence of a morning bite, picking up just one nice rainbow and no browns. A quick nap in the early afternoon allowed us to get back on the water by 5pm for a final shot at the evening “bite.”  

The evening moved along similarly to the morning, with no action. We weren’t even missing bites, we just failed to find any willing fish. It no longer made any sense why we would leave East Lake to fish Wickiup. No sense at all. Sunset came and went, and we started to creep up on the legal closing-bell. We had not hooked a brown all day, and our trip was coming to an end in a very discouraging manner.

We had moved out of the Deschutes arm to troll the main lake body closer to our campsite. It was 20-minutes until legal and, in an act of dejected stubbornness, we decided to make one final pass and troll past our campsite. As I hung over my rod, staring into the darkness of Wickiup, Jewett screamed those long absent words, “FISH ON!!!”  I quickly dropped the boat into neutral, made sure Jewett was still hooked up, and reeled my line in. As I did, I could hear Jewett muttering to himself, “Oh man, it’s a nice one. It’s a nice one. Oh (expletive deleted), I can feel his head shaking. Oh (expletive deleted), it’s a (expletive deleted) hawg!”  Meanwhile, I threw on a headlamp and grabbed the net. As I stood there staring into the growing darkness, I knew it was going to be interesting to net a fish I could barely see (especially if it was a hawg). As Jewett reeled in his fish, I watched as his PowerPro finally turned into fluorocarbon. When I saw that fluoro leader, I knew the fish was close, but it was still obscured by the darkness. Finally, she came to the surface directly in front of me…and I was stunned by what I saw. It was a hen, a massive hen. I lunged for her with the net, but she wasn’t done quite yet and thrashed her way out of perceived harm’s way. She barrel-rolled and thrashed alongside the boat as we held our breath, hoping beyond hope that she would stay hooked. She finally tired herself out and I got her into the net. She was spectacular!

By far the biggest brown I had ever seen in person. I held her in the water in the net while Jewett removed the barbless hooks from her mouth. We then suspended her in the soft C&R net and weighed the net and fish together. The boga registered 16.5 pounds (my net weighs 3.5 pounds). We then took some quick photos of the big girl and released her. Unfortunately, in our excitement, we forgot to get length or girth measurements. It seems 13 pounds was all the measurement we needed at the time. It was a very gratifying release, as she was unscathed by the lure and powered away strong when we let her go. The fickle Wickiup had been harsh, but she had rewarded us gloriously for our patience.