Proof that I can, in fact, catch fish

My inability to bring any fish home over the years of holidays spent at the family cabin in Silverton, Washington has led some to doubt of my claims to having caught any fish at all. My first day out this weekend, I hooked two trout — one spit out the hook and the other snapped my line while I was trying to land him. My mother has been the biggest skeptic, so when I landed a keeper yesterday morning I ran straight home in order to make her a believer and get photographic evidence of the 12″, 12-ounce rainbow trout I pulled from the south fork of the Stilliguamish.

Of course, my mom immediately started complaining that she wanted to have fresh trout for dinner like her father, and my grandpa, Benny used to provide (I figured that one fish was at least enough for a trout-and-eggs breakfast). So I went out later in the day and caught three more — two barely legal rainbows and a fat, sassy brook trout which put up quite a fight and must have weighed at least a pound.

I was a little nervous that I’d mangle them when I cleaned and gutted the beauties, but they came out alright. A little salt, pepper and olive oil and the two biggest fish hit the grill (I left my mom the two smaller ones on ice in the cooler).

I must say, with a fresh salad and rice pilaf, it was a simple but delicious meal — fresh trout are damn tasty. Though with the license, lures and all they ended up costing $15 a pound. But hey, I got to demonstrate unequivocally my position at the top of the food chain and my ability to provide for my family, as it were.

For those who care about such things, I caught all four on a lightweight spincasting rig, using 1/16 oz. Rooster Tail lures — one in pink and green and the other brown (206RT and 206BR). Which felt a little like cheating, since I usually cast flies, but at least I wasn’t using bait. So to give the fish a fighting chance, I’ll go back to single, barbless hooks this weekend. Still, it was nice to put the doubt to rest once and for all.