Letting a Record Tiger Trout Go

Disbelief was an understatement. Staring at the silver, near indiscernible fish that just came out of the hole, I remember yelling, “Its a tiger! ITS A TIGER!”

This was my first weekend checking out this particular lake. I had poured over the stocking reports and had heard rumors of this lake heading downhill from the quality of fish it once produced. Being the stubborn out-of-stater, the last thing I wanted was to write a lake off before fishing it at least once.

Having a couple of other lakes that produced pretty, but in comparison, small tigers up to about 20 inches, I was after a bigger fish (but what’s new there!).  Little did I know what was going to happen.

We had been camping in freezing temperatures in the mountains for the weekend. At twilight on the last day, holding on for just a few last moments as the sun disappeared below the mountain’s silhouette, and as the head-lamps clicked on, I had the quickest, hardest bite I had ever felt on rod and reel.

I have caught a fair share of my pike on ice rod and reel, whose strike is aggressive, lightning fast, and committed to eating, but even all of them did not prepare me for this fish.  I watched my line peel with just that right amount of tension that screams– loosen your drag NOW. Every time I pulled up and slightly gained, this fish dug deeper straight back to the bottom.

Finally up to the hole, these were the most critical moments. Knowing full well if I dropped any amount of tension and reached down to grab ole Loch-Ness, she could spit that hook. My partner, Cole, without hesitation crouched down and wrapped both hands around her head. Out she came!

“At twilight on the last day, holding on for just a few last moments as the sun disappeared below the mountain’s silhouette, and as the head-lamps clicked on, I had the quickest, hardest bite I had ever felt on rod a reel. ”

My brain saw silver, but did not register the tiger stripes, but when it did, I was equally in disbelief. She taped to 29 5/8ths inches without her tail pinched, and anyone’s guess is as good as mine on what she would have weighted.

A couple dim-lighted, grainy pictures later and she was back in hole. I had zero clue what decision I was going to have to make when we got down the mountain and back into the valley.

I knew the Catch & Keep record was some crazy monster that was well over 30 inches, so I didn’t even think I beat the Catch & Release record, assuming it was well up into the 30s as well. As it turns out the record was (and still is), 29 inches. Then the feeling in my gut sunk.

“You have to give up locations for catch and release even don’t you?”

“Yep.”

The next morning, to double check, I emailed a Utah State Biologist to get the definitive answer, which he politely told me was yes. The reason being, the lake that can produce the caliber of fish like that deserves the credit as well, which in turn creates funding for future stockings.

Better understanding the reasoning behind giving the location, I struggled. I was no doubt, extremely proud of that fish. But I had seen first-hand the effect of social media on lakes back in Nebraska and knew it would be the same out here.

Almost every lake I fish, I protect my spot to the death. My fun catching these fish, and protecting the lake from fisherman who would not catch & release came to mind. When it boiled right down to it– I could not forfeit my location. Though bittersweet, I am still proud of the fish and my decision.

At the end of the day, my spot will still be there next year hopefully to pull out an even bigger fish!

Tightlines!