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It
was the weekend before Memorial Day and our last weekend on the
Guadalupe River for the season. We keep our trailer at Rio Raft
at fourth crossing and fish the river most every weekend from
January through mid-May.
It
had been a “moderate” year for trout fishing on the Guad, with
high water from the spring rains and muddy water from last years
floods creating less than optimal fishing conditions for a part of
the season. The spring storms seemed to be timed to hit on the
weekends, further limiting the number of “optimum” fishing
weekends. However, Saturday May 22, was a prime day on the
Guadalupe. Warm and sunny with highs getting up into the mid
80’s. Perfect wet wading weather. The only drawback was that it
was also perfect weather for tubing. However, I wasn’t going to
let that hold me back and I set out for a last weekend of the
season trout fishing.
I
headed down to one of my favorite spots below 4th crossing on the
Guad and started working a tandem rig with a San Juan worm and a
prince nymph down into the deeper troughs. In spite of all of the
tubers on the river, the water being a bit off color and the sunny
conditions, it turned out that there were some trout that were
ready to play. Over the next several hours, I was able to hook up
and release about 10 nice fat rainbows, ranging from about 14” to
18”. The 18” fish was really a nice fish and put up a strong
fight, using the depth of the trough and the strong current to its
full advantage. Just as I landed the rainbow a group of tubers
came floating into the area I was fishing and I thought it would
be a good idea to sit down and re-tie the flies I’d been using.
Soon the mob of tubers cleared the hole and stepped right back out
to the edge of the trough I was fishing. I flipped my nymph right
up along the trough edge and let it float well below me, trying to
make sure my “bowling ball” sized split shot drug the flies along
the bottom. At the end of the drift, the indicator jerked under
and I raised the rod to set the hook.
 I
could tell right way this was going to be a good fish. I could
feel power in the head shakes, although the fish really wasn’t
moving anywhere. Then, it realized that it was hooked and my
flyline began to head downstream. My big fish instincts told me
that what I needed to do was follow that fish as fast as I could
and keep as much line on the reel as possible. So, I began to run
downstream behind the fish. The initial run, when it came, was
fast and long. I was quickly into my backing and was pretty sure I
was in big trouble. However, I kept plowing downstream and was
able to get my flyline back on the reel and get back within about
20 feet of the fish.
Fortunately, the next few runs were not as long and I was able to
keep up with the fish. However, one run after another kept leading
me farther and farther downstream. I also began to collect quite
an audience and obstacle course of tubers. At least half of the
challenge was keeping the fish from wrapping up in the tubers that
continued to stream down the river.
The run downstream continued for probably ½ mile, until the fish
began to get near the big, deep hole at the S-turn. I knew if that
fish got down into the bottom of that hole, there was not way I
was going to be able to lift that fish out of there on 4X. So, I
employed the tubers that were now spectator fishing. Several of
them lined up across the shallow entry to the hole, spooking the
fish and causing it to reverse directions and head upstream. It
was in this shallow water near the S-turn, at the 30 minute point
in the fish, that I first saw the fish. It was a striped bass and
my guess was, from the quick look I got, that it had to be at
least 15-20 pounds.
I knew that getting the fish to move upstream would work to my
favor but that’s where the work really began. Pushing upstream
against the current was a lot of work. The troughs in this area a
deep and the bottom is uneven. I feel several times. A couple
times I stepped off of the edge and into water above my head and
had to either float until I regained footing or have one of the
tubers give me a hand to get back up on the edge. However, I
managed to stay with the fish as it backtracked back up river.
I
continued to chase the fish upstream, keeping to moving by trying
to stay right behind it. Eventually, the fish got into a trough
that was too deep for me to wade into and it began to just hang in
place. I could tell it was at the bottom of the trough and
resting, which was not good. I could not let the fish sit still.
Again, I enlisted the help of a couple of tubers in the audience.
I asked them to swim down into the bottom of the trough to
continue to push the fish upstream into water that was shallow
enough for me to wade. Two such efforts move the fish back up
closer to where the battle had started.
Along the way, several of the tubers offered to “help” me land the
fish. One girl wanted to try to sack the fish up into a mesh bag.
Several people wanted to touch my line. I was pretty convinced
that none of them would have even a chance of providing useful
assistance. Finally, a young man named Ryan started wading along
side of me. Ryan helped me get up from a couple of falls and then
told me that he’d worked on saltwater fishing charters in the
past.
 At
this point I was so tired that I needed somebody with me just to
make sure I didn’t fall down from exhaustion. The fight was
nearing the 1 hour point and I began to talk with Ryan about how
he could help me bring this to an end. We continued to “push” the
fish upstream by blocking any downstream path through the trough.
However, there was nothing I could do to lift the fish over the
rock edge of the trough. As soon as he saw that edge, he would
immediately move back down into the trough.
Eventually, we pushed the fish upstream to the point that the
troughs ended and the riverbed began to flatten out. The strategy
then became to encourage the fish to move back downstream in a
direction such that he would be up on the shelf, as opposed to
down into the trough.
The fish was clearly getting tired. As opposed to pulling me
downstream, he was now just moving downstream using the current
and his weight to slide backwards. We finally got the fish into a
good position to land but I just could not lift the fish up close
enough to the surface with my 5 weight flyrod. It would just
double over without significantly moving the fish. At this point,
I trusted Ryan to touch my line. He very gently lifted on the line
just enough that the fish swam up shallow enough where we could
see it. Then, he let it drift back and put his hands under the
belly. When he lifted, I saw the fish's head and immediately
dropped my rod, reached down with both hands and placed a liplock
on the lower jaw of the fish.
We both lifted at
once and a roar went up from the crowd of tubers that had gathered
to watch this epic which had now gone on for just over an hour. I
let out a loud whoop and immediately tripped and fell from
exhaustion, but never loosened my grip on the fish's jaw. We moved
the fish over into the shallows and we both collapsed into the
water.
It was only then
that we all realized that this was not just a big fish, this was a
really big fish. I knew immediately that my first look estimate of
the 15-20 pounds was going to be way too low. The fish was still
moving its gills slightly, but was clearly fought to exhaustion,
as was I. However, I probably had a better chance of recovering.
 A few of the tubers had disposable cameras and several of them
asked me to hold the fish up for pictures. However, I didn’t’ know
any of these people, and these weren’t the kind of pictures I’d
hoped to get if I ever caught a fish like this. I was sitting
there trying to figure out what to do, as most of the audience got in their tubes and floated away. I had to make my first
decision. This fish had a low chance of revival and survival. The
stripers have a reputation for eating the rainbow trout in the
Guadalupe, and it's widely encouraged to remove them from the
river. And, I really wanted good photographs of such a nice, large
fish. So, even though it is so far from my nature to kill fish,
particularly trophy size fish, I decided I would put a rope
into the fish's mouth and drag it back upstream with me. If I
could revive it and still get it back to camp for photos, I’d
release it. If the fish didn’t make it, then I’d get my photos and
go from there.
It actually was quite an ordeal to get back to camp. By now, I was
½ mile below where I was fishing, my kayak was yet another ¼
upstream and then it was about a mile to row back up to camp. I
kept the fish in the water the entire time and tried to keep water
running through its gills. However, I saw very little signs of
life other than occasional gill movement. By the time I got the
fish all of the way back up to camp, it was clear that I had
killed it.
Getting the fish to camp at Rio Raft started another whole series
of events, and I was reveling in my success. People from all over
camp and all over the river came by to see the fish as we
photographed it. Some guy brought a Zebco DeLiar down to help me
weigh it. It was a rusty old device that topped out at 25 lbs. We
tried to hook the fish on it but it immediately pegged the scale
and the guy couldn’t hold the fish up. I didn’t believe the scale
anyway.
A Boy Scout Troop
that was camped across from our trailer, all came down as a group
and I showed them the fish and talked to them about how I had so
many mixed feelings about killing it. I showed the fly and the
small line I had used and talked to them about the patience and
feel that it took to land big fish on light line. I wanted to use
the fish to set a good example for these Boy Scouts.
At this point, I still did not fully appreciate what I had caught.
I knew it was a fish of a lifetime for me. However, we all know
there are some big stripers in the Guadalupe after it floods and I
knew that the current state records were substantially bigger than
my estimate of this fish. By now, we had measured it at 40 inches
long, 25” inches in girth and had estimated it from charts and
formulas at around 30 pounds (31.25 pounds by the standard
formula). One of my charts said you can’t have a 25” girth if the
fish is only 40” long, which is a good indicator of just how fat
this fish was.
After a couple of hours of showing the fish around and reveling in
victory, it was time for me to make another decision. It was at
this point I was either brain dead or just confused since I
generally don’t kill fish. The ethical outdoorsman in me said, “if
you kill the fish it is your responsibility to see that it gets
properly cleaned and eaten”. That’s the example I thought I should
be setting for the Boy Scouts that were watching and somewhat
that’s exactly what I let happen.
Since I don’t kill many fish, I didn’t even have a fillet knife or
the skills to properly clean the fish. Larry (aka Scary Larry),
who lives down near Rio volunteered to help me and we
unceremoniously filleted the fish on the back of my tailgate.
There was quite a bit of interest in all of our parts in the
stomach contents of the fish. Local lore is that the stripers feed
heavily on the rainbow trout in the river. I’d caught and cleaned
a couple of stripers in the Guadalupe in the past and all of the
stomach contents I’d seen were dominated by crawdads. However,
this fish contained several pound of green, digested matter (ie
fish crap) and a number of fish vertebrae. One of the backbones
was reasonably in tact and was most likely from a small trout.
There were a number of larger vertebra that were loose in the
fishes stomach. This fish had clearly been eating other fish and
probably trout.
So, at this point, I’m still exhilarated and convinced I’ve done
the right things. Cyndie and I have a drink to toast the event and
go out for a nice dinner to celebrate. I call a couple of my
fishing buddies to tell them I’ve landed a big striper in the Guad,
but nobody is home.
On Sunday morning I’m still feeling pretty good about my fishing
prowess and pretty satisfied with my season on the Guad. I
declare I will not fish again this season and just spend the day
hanging around camp and swimming in the river.
Late Sunday afternoon, Scott Graham floats by with a couple of
clients. Wanting to tell somebody that will appreciate what I’ve
caught, I walk down to the river and talk to Scott. It’s at this
point that I begin to have a sinking feeling and second thoughts
about what I have done. I tell Scott I landed what I estimate to
be a 30 pound striper on my flyrod and he tells me that the state
record for striper on a fly rod is only 22 pounds. I didn’t even
realize the State of Texas kept flyrod records, and now Scott is
telling me I probably shattered the record.
I was convinced that just the head and entrails from the fish
probably weighed at least 22 pounds and headed back up to the
dumpster to see if I could find the remains. However, after a
roaring weekend on the Guadalupe, you don’t want to spend much
time dumpster diving, and I realized I was not going to find any
sign of that fish at this point.
On Monday I called TPWD and talked with Steve Magnelia, who
confirmed that a certified weight would be necessary to secure an
official state record for the catch. My sense of having missed a
once in a lifetime opportunity was only compounded when I was
later told that the IGFA record for Striper on 4X tippet is only
about 32 pounds.
So, I’ve caught what is most likely the fish of a lifetime for me
on the Guadalupe River. While I’m doing my best to revel in the
thrill of victory, there’s a part of me that will always know the
agony of defeat for “The One that Got Away”.
Jeff Schmitt
Austin, TX
More
links about this fish story...
Austin American Statesman 6-12-04
Fishing Forum
My SanAntonio
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