The Tail Grab
closing the gap on a big fish
Fishing can feel like a solitary sport, and many times it is. At the end of the day, most types of fishing don't require multiple participants, and there is beauty in that.
However, every now and then, you hook a fish that requires the help of someone else—ideally someone who knows how to land a fish. Much like rolling a good spliff, landing a fish is not something everyone can do. Many people can hook a fish and reel it in, but it takes skill to know how to secure the catch in those final feet. Sometimes it’s done with a net or a large gaff. I’ve even seen a guy use a 9 mm. My ears are still ringing from that one, but the halibut probably had a worse headache. Sometimes, the only option is to land the fish with your hands. And here, we separate the boys from the men, the señoritas from the señoras.
This post is a loose sequel to a previous article. You don’t need to read the first one to follow along, but if you’re curious, here’s the link.
With a good tire under the X-Trail, the Gringos took off down the road, away from Punta Arenas. The day before, we had met a guide who gave us a few sorely needed fishing spots. We were headed straight for the first one. In front of us were four hours of pavement, one ferry ride, and two hours of dirt road. Our destination? The Río Grande.
Chile and Argentina share this magical river, and it hosts some of the most magnificent fish on the planet: sea-run brown trout. These are fish that, much like salmon or steelhead, leave the river ecosystem and seek the pelagic waters of the ocean. This journey causes them to add incredible mass and develop a voracious appetite. We were a bit early for the sea-run fish, but the Gringos can dream, right?
We arrived in the dark and, therefore, had the pleasure of being awestruck by the scenery when we awoke the next morning. With salty brown trout on our minds, we ate a quick breakfast and hit the river. Fishing was slow, and the weather was harsh. Tierra del Fuego is notoriously windy, and this day was ruthless. Despite the wind and slow fishing, the scenery was top-notch and we had great company from the local wildlife.
In the U.S., I have shared countless rivers with cows. The Río Grande, however, was the first river I shared with guanacos. They were everywhere you looked. Their long necks and crooked jaws make them seem quite judgmental, especially when we can't seem to catch a fish. I refrained from calling them “Fat Lards.”
By midday, the mood was somber. We were exhausted and didn’t have much to show for it. Anthony was flying upriver, fishing pool after pool. Seve had put his earbuds in and was downriver in his own world. I decided that now was a good time to take a break by the riverbank and ponder what in the hell I was doing.
Moments like this are frustrating. Here we were on a world-class river, and we couldn’t get a damn bite.
While I wallowed in self-pity, I was suddenly yanked back to reality by Anthony yelling.
“Yo! Guys, I’m hooked up!” … “Guys!!! Get the hell up here!”
I launched out of my seat into a dead sprint toward his voice. I knew that, based on his reaction, this was a big fish. Anthony has caught more trout than most, and he wouldn’t have called out for help if it was anything but a monster.
I was over 200 meters away, so by the time I arrived I was panting like a fat dog. In the final steps I remembered that none of us had a net. It was time to see where I fell on the boy - man spectrum.
My intuition was correct—this fish was massive. When it jumped for the first time, I looked at Anthony, and we both became well aware of the challenge ahead of us. The fight went on for what felt like an eternity before the trout showed signs of tiring. To land it, Anthony would bring it in as close as possible. I would slide my right hand around the fish's tail and secure it firmly while guiding the line with my left. Per usual, the first time we attempted this, the fish screamed away in fury of rejuvenated energy.
Thankfully, she was firmly hooked. Anthony brought her around another time, and I was able to get the tail grab. It was a massive brown trout, easily the biggest I have ever landed1. We snapped a few pics, and Seve finally made it to witness the moment. He must’ve run over a quarter mile to get to us.
I feel incredibly lucky to have landed this fish for Anthony. The adrenaline rush that came over me—from the moment he yelled to the final tail slap as she swam away—was hypnotic.
While running, I felt a sense of wonder and excitement.
After arriving by his side, I was terrified of screwing up the landing.
After landing the fish, I was relieved.
When she swam away, I felt pure bliss.
I have been very lucky to be present for some of the more impressive fish that Anthony has caught. You’d have to ask him where this Chilean brown trout falls, but it will forever live in my memory as one of the greatest.
Others include this monster pike and the rainbow next to it. The rainbow is from our freshman year of college, and while not a huge fish, has become a formidable memory. The pike could have a book written about it. Some six years later, Anthony and I are still fishing, and landing, each other’s catches. Except now, we’re chasing fish on another continent.
I’ll end with some words of wisdom from my good friend Taiyo…
It was late one night in our college house. We had just returned from a fly fishing club trip, and our gear was strewn across the living room. I looked at Taiyo’s battered and beaten net. It had scratches all over the handle, stickers peeling off, and was held together in a few places by zip ties.
I said to him, “Your net has gotten some good use, man. You’ve caught a lot of fish with that thing.”
He looked at me and replied, “It’s landed more fish for other people than it ever has for me.”
With that, I encourage you to think not about how many fish you have caught, but instead about how many fish you have helped others catch.
It was not a sea run brown trout, which in all honesty makes this fish even more impressive. It takes many years and a few miracles to reach this size in a river.
Nice. Love to hear some Taiyo wisdom
Great story, great message to wrap things up! Thanks for landing countless amounts of fish for me throughout our adventures. Still remember when you helped me get into my first fish on the Poudre when I moved to CO. Fish was tiny but the stoke was through the roof man.
Cheers brotha!