Due in no small part to the information I gave him, he scooped me. "I caught a seven pound mackinaw, lost a bigger one at the net, and had some kind of monster break me off, on ten-pound line! I bet it would have beaten the lake record you caught last year!"

"Yeah, well, I have tomorrow free." I replied, "You want to go back with me and see who catches the big one and who has to say 'I bet it would have'"? Ward can never resist a good, snottily-phrased challenge, so he agreed not only to go, but also to pick me up in his truck and host me in his Porta-Bote, which is a bit more roomy and stable than my canoe.

It was after sunset on the evening of Sunday, June first when we set up camp on the shore of Silver Lake in a spot that I'm sure was illegal, but we were too drunk with fishing-fever to care. Okay, so it was beer; same difference, minus the eye-hand coordination. I woke up stone-sober at four a.m. though, to the sound of big fish feeding on the calm surface of the lake. Sitting up in my sleeping bag I listened and watched moonlit splashes disturb the inky-black water, until I could no longer remain still. I channeled my nervous energy into the daunting task of waking Ward, who had a few more beers than me, and was snoring like a street-tuned Harley Davidson.

"Ward! Ward! Wake up buddy!" I said as I shook him violently- "Let's put the Porta-Bote together!" This amazing little vessel was folded to the thickness and shape of a surfboard on the roof of Ward's truck, but in under half an hour we had it assembled and mounted with rod holders, depthfinder and electric trolling motor. As we ate a quick breakfast I marveled at the ingenious design of this boat, which was now equivalent in size and shape to a twelve-foot aluminum V-hull. I begged him to let me pilot, and he agreed.

"You're the guide," he said, "And you can get a chance to see what this baby can do." As the sky turned a faint pre-dawn purple, we pushed off and commenced trolling. Although on the previous trip Ward had caught his mackinaw on Flatfish plugs, I suggested that we start by fast-trolling large Rapalas, and he agreed to this as well. If I thought he had a cent to his name, I would have hit him up for a loan at this point- he was just so darn agreeable. A good trout lake can do that to you.

We pulled these Rapalas in the shallows for nearly two hours without a bite, but just as the first direct rays of sun hit the water, Ward had a fish. A brown trout close to four pounds, it leapt twice at the boat before I netted it, took a quick photo and Ward released it gently. "Oh Great Meat Hunter! I'm surprised at you!" I joked, "Letting a good meal like that get away."

"That's just a baby, compared to the macks that are in here, we'll let him grow up." He quickly caught another baby, a four pound mackinaw, which he also sent on its way after a photograph.

We continued shallow trolling, Ward with his black-and-silver Rapala, and me trying several different minnow plugs, but by noon we had not caught another fish. Time to change strategy. For Ward, I set up a rod with a set of heavy flashers trailing a nightcrawler, then I brought out my rod and reel equipped with leadcore deep-trolling line, and tied a Jointed Kwikfish lure to the leader. We trolled these offerings through the deeper parts of the lake, sweating as the mid-day sun hammered down through thin mountain air. The lake was glass-flat, mirroring the light and doubling its intensity, and the hotter I got, the deeper I trolled, figuring that the fish also might be seeking to escape the glare. This brought me one small mackinaw for my trouble, a two-pounder dredged up from 50 feet.

Then, just as a cooling, afternoon breeze rippled the lake and a single, high-altitude cloud occluded the sun, my lead-core rod went down and started pumping. Feeling a quality fish, I turned off the motor, but forgot to tell Ward to start reeling in before his metal flashers hit the bottom. Sure enough, as I fought my fish while the boat drifted slowly with the breeze, Ward's rod bent over as well. "You're hung on the bottom." I told him, but when he gave the rod an exploratory yank, the tip surged forward and I could see the level-wind on his casting reel zipping quickly from side to side, indicating a large quantity of line feeding off the spool quickly against the reel's drag. We exchanged the same wide-eyed stare as we both realized we had not one, but two big fish on. Just then my fish came to the surface and zipped around in wide, wild circles before again sounding for the depths. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but to our horror we both saw that my line was now wrapped around Ward's, not once but several times, too many to untangle by simply passing one rod over or under the other. My fish went one way on 10 pound line, while Ward's went in the other direction on his six-pound leader, and as his rod tip snapped upright and he slumped dejectedly in his seat, I brought my big mackinaw back to the surface and netted it. It had given up the fight rather abruptly, which was understandable when I saw what condition it was in. Not only was it tightly wound up in a substantial length of Ward's broken-off monofilament, but it had inhaled the back end of my treble-hooked Kwikfish all the way to its gill, which was now pumping bright scarlet plumes of blood into the water. I did not even attempt to release it, instead finishing it off with a thump on the head before I put it on ice in my cooler. We then fished obsessively until dark, causing me to miss my evening class at the community college, and causing my wife (to whom I'd promised to return by lunchtime) to ban me from any further fishing trips with Ward (I'll have to sneak them). The mackinaw measured 32 inches and went 14 pounds when I weighed it at home, and I had the good sense to invite some of my wife's friends for a fish-roast the next night, to smooth her over and to help eat such a big fish.

Several other big mackinaw have been caught at Silver Lake this year, and one lucky angler caught a 14.5 pound brown trout from shore. Overall, fishing has been slow for numbers but great for quality this spring at both Silver and nearby Caples Lake, but the catch rate should increase with plants of hatchery trout scheduled for both lakes this week.

Until next time,
Mark (The Trout Whisperer) Wiza
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