Somewhere between Halloween and Valentine’s Day, Ryan Daniels and I sat down at a clear-coated table at one of our local watering holes.  The usual suspects of topics rose to the top of our conversation.  The Oregon State Beavers, our families, our jobs, and trophy-trout fishing.  We were pre-planning trips for the year, discussing locations, timing, techniques for each particular lake.  The discussion then turned over to what started as a fun idea over 8 years ago to now an annual event.   Dad’s Weekend.

As RD and I wiped the froth from our beards left by one of our tasty, hand-crafted Oregon brews, we discussed which lake it would be for this annual trip.  Our decision was made rather quickly to venture towards Crescent Lake.  It’d been 2 years since we’d been there with our fathers.  That particular trip was special as (3) Personal records were broken with the largest mackinaw (lake trout) for RD, his father Kim, and my father Gary.  It was a blast.  With a quick nod and a “Let’s do it”, I booked the cabin right then and there.

The only “hiccup” (if you will) for the planning of this trip was the date we had selected.   One of the most popular weekends of the year for outdoorsmen and the “kick-off” to the camping season.  Memorial Day Weekend.  How blessed of a country we are to 1) have had so many people sacrifice themselves to protect our freedoms and 2) that we get time off to spend with our families to reflect on those.   The caveat to this humbling weekend, especially when you’re trying to do some trophy trout hunting, is there will be boats on the lake…..and lots of them!

I was the first to arrive at Crescent Lake.  My dad had a budget review meeting for one of the many non-profits he’s on the board of while the Daniels weren’t going to be able to get away until the next morning.  I decided I’d be the guinea pig and scout (5) particular spots of the lake that I knew from past experience to hold a fair amount of fish.  My target – German Browns and Mackinaw.  My mission – to catch as large and as many fish as possible!

It was around 10 AM when I finally got settled to be able to fish.  The surface of the lake was dead-flat, without even so much as a small kokanee or rainbow breaking the surface in search of a newly-hatched fly.   I decided to try downrigging deep for some lakers.  I had the clips all rigged, my lines with my offerings were out behind the boat, and I began to drop my cannon-ball to my desired depth.  My counter on my down-rigger approached 85’ when I noticed there were hardly any wraps of cable left on my spool.  “What the heck?” I thought.  I stopped the downrigger from lowering by engaging the brake-clutch.  It was a downrigger I hadn’t even had a year yet.   I realized there was ONLY 100’ of cable on this spool!  Crap!  No big deal. I had another downrigger that had 200’ of cable on it, but I preferred my new downrigger’s retrieval system.   Unfortunately, this downrigger had been newly refurbished.  So newly, that the brake plate on the downrigger would lock up on itself after 10 cranks.  I’d then have to re-engage the hand-brake, jam it forward and pull it back to release the pressure on the brake plate.  At one time, when I had 150’ of cable out, it took me 10 minutes to hand-crank it back in when it should normally only take a minute or two.  That was not okay.

I texted RD about my situation and asked (more like begged) him to stop by a store and pick me up a 200’ spool and downrigger repair kit.  Otherwise, my plans for downrigging the depths for large lakers was going to be thwarted and annihilate ½ of my mission.  He quickly responded and stated “No problem.”  I took the costs of the spool and just deducted what he owed me for the cabin.  Crisis averted.

My plans for going for lakers was now delayed.  I could do some shallower water downrigging, but that switched my focus to hunting the browns.  With Crescent Lakes clear waters, she can be very tempermental.  Trying to fool a large, piscorvous salmo trutta (German Brown) can pose to be difficult, sans the clear waters.   I began around rainbow point in search of a hungry fish awaiting an opportunistic meal. 

I released both fish after a few pics set on my camera timer and spent another ½ hour fishing.  I caught (1) more 5# laker and decided to head in to the cabin to get something to eat and take a nap before the evening bite.  I decided to fish over by Simax and tried depths of 12’ to 50’ to see what was available.  I caught a couple 3# lakers on a 7-1/2” AC Original and then a small 18” brown (that may have been a couple pounds….he WAS FAT!).  Nothing to exciting.  And I wasn’t marking much for arcs.  I beached my boat for the evening and met up with my dad.  3:45 in the AM was just around the corner so no time for BS-ing.   Just sleep.

The next morning we decided to try/scout an area of the lake around the Boy Scout Camp that we knew had produced some fine results in the past.   We trolled around for 2 hours with not even as much as whitefish spitting on our lures.  My dad and I were scratching our heads.  The fish were just not there.  We trolled over by Contorta and we started to get tapped.  A couple laker pups in the 4 to 6 lb range found their way to our boat, but the browns were either being super-elusive or they just weren’t there.   On to other reaches of the lake in search of the browns.  

We began to fish the Tandy Bay area.   We decided with the sun glaring it’s beams into the depths of ol’ Mother Crescent, we should focus our efforts deeper for browns.  Mostly in the 35 to 70’ range.   Finally, at 9 AM, my rod tip gave the indicative sign of a ‘Fish On’!!!  I set the hook and met with some welcomed resistance and zinging ‘line-peel’.   “YES!” I exclaimed to dad.   “It’s about time!” stated Dad.  This fish felt heavy compared to my previous fish I’d caught so far on the trip.  There’d be the occasional head-shake from time to time, but mostly it was heavy.  It’s body porpoised through the otherwise glassy lake about 100’ off the stern of the boat.  The shine of the scales as they glistened in the sunlight gave away the fish’s identity. 

“IT’S A BROWN DAD!”  But it was acting weird.  It was coming in sideways.  I also noticed that my line had appeared to be under the fish’s throat (if you will) instead of directly out of it’s mouth.  After a minute or so, I came to realize what was going on.  The front hook of the lure was buried in the corner of the fishes mouth, but the other (2) trebles were stuck in it’s gill plate and head.   During the initial strike, the way the fish grabbed my lure, he actually pinned the fishing line between the lead and middle treble hooks against his body.   So that was why the line was seemingly underneath the fish.  It made the fish feel much heavier than what he was.  My quick guess was “Ah…I think it’s a 4, Dad.”  My dad was quick to respond “I don’t know Brian, I think it’s a lot bigger than that.”  He netted the fish and as I examined it in the net over the side of the boat, I realized my dad was right.   It was a very thick, and deep bodied hookjaw brown.  We taped and measured him at 25.5” long and he weighed 6-1/2 #’s.   He was a beautiful specimen for Crescent Lake.  Typically, I catch more silvery browns out of Crescent.  However, once in a while you get one of those golden yellow, beautifully spotted fish.  This brown was one of those and I thanked the “Big Guy” upstairs for such an awesome fish.  After a pic and a video, off he went.

The rest of the evening was a bust with not so much as a bump to keep our spirits alive.  The next morning came quickly.  We caught a couple dinks but nothing to show for it.  The lake was flat as a pancake.  We’d seen Jeb Burton earlier on Friday and decided we’d try deep for some lakers.  We weren’t noticing much on the graph, but often times when we fish, we’ll catch lakers and browns and there won’t be a blip on the graph.  You have to remember, the cone from your depth finder’s tranducer will only spread at a relatively small angle, thus giving it a small range of water to swim through for it to be picked up.  The fish could be inches outside of a 20’ wide cone at 150’ deep and not show on your graph.  But the fishes lateral line, sense of smell and hearing will more than compensate for it’s elusiveness on the graph.   After a slow hour of trolling various depths form 70’ to 150’ deep, we finally caught an 11 lb laker that was 29.5” long.  We released the nice laker after the photo.

Where were those stinking browns?  We caught another dink laker a few minutes later.  As I shook him off with my pliers grasping the trebles that were in his mouth and the wind-blown waves crashed against the gunwales of my boat, I saw Jeb and Linda in my peripheral vision speeding towards my dad and I.  He yelled to us over his motor and the sound of the wind “We got a 16 and a 13!  Go out deep and do the Laker drill!!”   Dad and I looked at each other in amazement.  I asked “Who got the 16?”  Linda excitedly yelled back “I did!  It was the best fight ever!”  Both dad and I went “AWESOME!!!”

So we headed out for deeper water to see if we could fool a big mack.  The browns weren’t cooperating, maybe the mighty mackinaw would.  Down our lures went near the bottom of the lake as we trolled from West to East with the wind to our backs.   We were spotting koke schools up high, but a few lakers that were either hugging the bottom or within 10’.  Jeb was ahead of us by a couple hundred yards.  We saw him kick the boat in neutral and Linda set the hook.   SWEET!   Then dad yelled “BRIAN, the bottom rod! FISH, FISH!”  I saw it bouncing like crazy!  I went and set the hook myself.  I popped the line out of the release.  Briefly, I felt some tension after the slack was in.   But, the fish was gone.  Swing and a miss…dammit! 

We had another short-strike on the lakers.   With an hour and a half left of legal fishing, we decided we’d give it our last shot at an evening bite for browns.  We headed near Tandy Bay as we hadn’t fished there during the evening.  We figured after our fishing was done, we’d beach our boat near Spring Campground, hop in RD’s truck (as it was down there already) and then go to the cabin and fish the South area of the lake in the AM.   My dad was going along with his usual Bomber Long A.  I was trying bigger lures like the new 7” AC Ripbait (has a SIC action, BTW), Super Shad Rap, and Rapala F18’s.  We ended up catching (4) lakers (gee…imagine that) that were all in the 4 to 6 lb range.  It was a lot of fun, but still no lakers.  We got back to the campground and noticed RD’s truck was gone (we had a little miscommunication).  Thankfully, I knew that Dan & Carrie Lippis were camping with Carrie’s mom and step-dad at Spring.  I made my way through the darkness to their campsite and with some groveling and pleading, Dan kindly took my dad and I back to the resort!  I still owe you and Gene a half-rack, Dan!

It was now the final morning.  Dad and I got after it right at 4:40 AM.  In about 20 minutes, we had our stereo-typical laker pup caught.   I told dad that since it seemed like the browns weren’t in the area and/or lock-jawed, let’s try and finish the trip with a nice teener laker.  He agreed and we began downrigging for lakers about the earliest I think I ever have done (around 7 AM).   We started near the last summer home cabin and worked depths of 100 to 150’, searching for that nice laker.  It was quite windy compared to a typical morning at Crescent Lake.  I kept it at our backs and trolled with the wind.  Dad yelled “WHOAAAA!!! FISH ON!!!!!”  I looked at the back rod off my downrigger set and it was out of the clip and pegged.   I grabbed it and buried the hook.  My instinctive jerk was met with a hard, heavy pull-back.  “HECK YEAH!!! FISH ON DAD!!! IT’S ALL YOURS!” 

I began to clear the gear, while keeping the boat in gear (barely) as to A) not get our lines fouled up and B) keep us from getting blown sideways with the wind.   Dad was fighting the fish and as I looked at the rod, no words needed to be spoken to know this was a “BIG” fish!   We got it all cleared and I was asking the same questions I ask on every fish “Do you got tension on him?  How does it feel?  Is your drag good but not too tight?”  Dad responded with his standard answers “I got him!  Feels pretty big, Brian. Drag is fine.”  Alright, gear is cleared.   I look at dad, his feet were braced in an off-center stance ensuring he had all his weight behind this rod.  He said “My arms are getting tired, Brian”.  I asked “Are you into your mono yet?”  I looked at his rod, and I noticed he was barely at where I’d spliced some more braid on his line (due to a cluster from the day before).   “HOLY CRAP DAD! You sure your drag is set right?”  I went over and looked, felt the line and gave a tug and yep, it was set fine.   He’d gain about 10 feet, lose 20 to the fish, then gain 20 back, lose 10.  Back and forth!  Give and Take!  Sheeshhh…what kind of fish is ……OH NO!!!!!  <SLACK>  Our hearts sank as the 10 minute battle my dad had been giving this fish was over!  We both knew it had been sawn off.   As he reeled in, I noted he still had about 150’ of line out (and the fish was directly beneath us).   We’ve caught thousands of fish in both our lives.   There are few fish that stick out, like your first brown over 10, your first large rainbow on a fly, and others.  But the ones that seem to be the most vivid are the cliché “…one that got away.”  This one will be seared in my memory banks, and I didn’t even fight the fish (w/exception to the initial hook set).  I’m sure it’s even more scarred into my dad’s grey matter.  

And that’s what keeps you coming back, am I right?  We fished maybe 1 more hour but it was getting really sloppy on the lake.  We knew that we’d been blessed to catch some great fish that most people would die to have caught.  We both agreed it was time to call it.   We ended the trip with 31 fish, 25 lakers and 6 browns.  We caught (2) lakers that were 10#’s or greater, and probably 20 that were in the 4 to 8 lb range.   The largest browns were a 4, 4.5, and a 6.5.   We tallied our weight, and we figured we caught somewhere between 140 to 150#’s of trout.   Not too shabby.   Had we stuck a couple of the “…one’s that got away…”, we might have been in the 180 to 190# range.

The lures we used that caught the most fish for us were as follows (and in no particular order):  Luckycraft Pointers (100 and 128 sizes), Lymans (#4 and #6 sizes), Bettencourt Baits Assassins (7-1/2” size),  Bomber Long A’s, AC Original HAND-MADE (7” Size),  Super Shad Rap, and Rapala F-18’s.   Main pattern to use is kokanee pattern (think Black/Silver, Green/Silver, Blue/Silver).   I tried some gold and rainbow patterns, but nothing on those.  

We had a great time with Kim and RD.  We said this may have been one of the tougher “Dad’s Weekends” compared to years past.  But I told RD that I think every year we’re setting the bar higher and higher.  I think that’s a good thing, but when your expectations of yourself become higher, it allows for the potential for disappointment and humility to set in.  Two things that any seasoned fisherman (especially that of trophy trout) should be all too familiar with.  But that humility makes me grateful for every time I get on that water, to know that this is something to not be taken for granted.  I’m thankful for all the awesome fish we caught and the time together with my dad.  The quality of fish may not have been what we desired, but the “fishing” was fantastic!