Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, May 29, 1990 TAG: 9005290286
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-4 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
"I could see it [the lure] coming through the water and just stop," said Perkins. "The trout came out of the water a little bit and and I saw his back. I still didn't know how big he was."
The catch would turn out to be a 30.6-inch brown trout awesome enough to be headed toward the record book. First, though, there was the matter of a skimpy 4-pound-test line and a 25-minute brawl standing between Perkins and any glory.
"When he hit, he didn't move. I put pressure on my rod and he acted like he didn't even feel it. He just sat there," Perkins said.
Late last week, when Perkins went to the South Holston River, he was fearful that the rain-fed Smyth County stream would be bucking along like a chocolate-colored rodeo bull. He found it only a little high and discolored, just right for catching a brown trout, a species known for its preferences for nighttime and murky water feeding.
Perkins, 23, was wading into familiar water. He had grown up nearby, at Bland, and gone to work in Atlanta as a forklift operator. Now he was back home, looking for a job and fishing in the part of the country he loved best.
About 11:30 a.m., Perkins was casting his Joe's Fly to a modest-size pool, letting the lure run with and across the swift current. Then the big fish hit. The fly pattern, appropriately, was the Trout Demon, dressed with brown feathers and yellow hackle.
When an average-size trout feels the sting of a hook and the unfamiliar pressure of line, often it will leap and dash about, motivated by panic. This fish didn't move, as if in full control and studying what to do to rid itself of a minor annoyance.
For five minutes, it remained motionless.
"He sat out there and I was trying to figure out what to do, because I knew I had light line," Perkins said.
You don't do any horsing around with a 4-pound line, which can seem little more than cobweb when hooked into the tooth-filled snout of a trophy fish.
"My only chance was to get it down into shallow water," Perkins said. "I finally got it moving and it ran down into the shallows, and I set my drag real light."
The shallows robbed the fish of its maneuverability and power. In time, Perkins was able to wrestle the tired brown behind a rock, where he thrust his hand into its gills, then waded ashore.
"I was a nervous wreck. I got it on the bank and just sit there about five minutes and looked at it," he said. "I figured it was a citation, but I didn't know how much it weighed."
The big fish had an olive-colored back and bronze sides that were speckled with red-and-black spots often framed in a halo of blue. Perkins figured he might as well quit fishing for the day. He couldn't top what he was seeing.
So he headed to the nearby Busy Junction Grocery, where he planned to get some ice to keep the trout fresh. Sure, he was going to get it mounted.
The woman at the store realized he had something very special and suggested that he have it weighed. When it mashed the scales past the 14-pound mark, Perkins called a state game warden. It was a Virginia record candidate, he was told.
John Jessee, a state fish biologist, examined the trout and started the paper work required before a fish can be designated record status. He turned in an official weight of 14 pounds, 12.8 ounces. Jessee sees no reason it shouldn't make the record book. Perkins should know for certain in a couple of weeks.
"I am sure the fish had been a resident of the river for some time," said Jessee, who admired its size, shape and coloration. "We just don't stock any fish that big."
The current record is 12 pounds, 13 ounces and was caught by Daniel Dempsey of Sugar Grove on July 29, 1985, in the North Fork of the Holston.
by CNB