continued from Itinerary
Day 11:
The Rio Pico
Read about our experiences last December
by
George Anderson
The following day was our final fishing day, and tearing ourselves away from that Lago #3 to try something different was tough! Patricio and Marcos wanted to us to see and fish the Rio Pico river, where in the past they had  caught some very impressive fish, many in the double digits when talking pounds. Unfortunately, the Rio Pico was still a bit off color and high from recent storms. This was the early season and we had to expect some higher water. The countryside was especially striking with the backbone of the Andes right in front of us, rising up five to six thousand feet from the high hills of Rio Pico.
The Rio Pico river meandered through a forest here, and our access was through a large Estancia where the sheep kept the grass trimmed to no more than a couple of inches.
Wading the Rio Pico was impossible then. Too deep and too fast. We dredged a few 16-18 inch rainbows out from under the willows but it was looking like a tough day was in store for us. Patricio wanted us to explore farther upstream, where a couple of smaller tributaries entered. We'd fish these smaller streams also as they both held good fish.
He didn't explain to us that the first of these tributaries was a full-blown spring creek with double the water volume than the famous Arroyo Pescado, and some truly huge trout! This stream, which remains nameless, capped the whole trip for me. The weather was inclement with high winds that day, and that alone made the fishing difficult. Combine the nasty wind with overgrown willows and cane patches that resembled miniature bamboo overhanging the water  and you had some challenging fishing for sure. The water was nice and clear but so deep that crossing this stream that was only fifty feet in width was totally impossible. At one point there was a small suspension bridge (built for the sheep) that allowed us to get to the other side. The spring creek flowed through the willows, with bows extending right to the water, then fifty yards farther, it would emerge into an open space with many deep weed lined channels, where the fish would just sink out of sight once they spotted you. The first fish I saw was a rainbow of about four pounds, sipping in small, size 16, tan mayfly spinners. Just making a cast in the jungle like environment was a challenge in itself! Strangely, if a good fish spooked, it was just a matter of a few minutes when another fish would appear to take its place in the firing line. We took turns working on fish, with the other anglers often sitting on the steep bank behind watching the action. One especially good pool where many fish were hooked, Rick named the Opera House. Many fish were hooked, but few were landed! I listened to all the action while I explored upstream. Emerging from the brush and bushes I came upon a rainbow that was hanging just below a mass of willows that extended right down to the water. As the water flowed out through the willows, the big rainbow was sipping in tan caddis that drifted back with the current. This fish looked to be an easy twenty-eight inches, maybe more! Somehow I got through the brush and got into position to make a half dap, half cast without spooking the big fish. The monster rainbow sucked in my floating elk hair caddis and when I set the hook, he bolted into the junk faster than I believed was possible. Whap, bang, gone! Even using a 2X tippet did nothing to slow him down.
More exploring proved that there were only a few good fishable areas on the spring creek, where one could actually make a cast without getting hopelessly tangled. In one spot, a pocket that was perhaps ten feet in diameter between vegetation, held two nice rainbows of about 20-22 inches each. They were up on top, sipping in small stuff. As I was tying on something small, and trying to figure out how to actually get a cast in there, I watched as a big dragon fly flitted along a foot above the surface of the pocket. Suddenly a HUGE brown trout that appeared to be at least five pounds, shot out of the depths, like a porpoise, and, snatched the dragonfly from the air! Whoa! Now that really got my attention. This was a whole new ball game, and I forgot about those dinky twenty inch rainbows, while I tore apart my fly boxes looking for something about as large as a bat that I could tie on. I had to settle for a huge #4 rubber leg Grand Hopper, and tied it to a tippet of OX GrandMAX fluorocarbon. I flew this contraption as best I could over the pothole pool, skittering the hopper over the 
surface, and on my third cast, the big twenty-four inch brown launched into it. I just snubbed him up and hung on, letting the fish thrash around on my 16-pound tippet, hoping like hell the rod didn't break. I ran down the bank and dragged the big brown up on the moss before he ever was able to use his strength to bore down deep under all the willows and break me off. Sometimes you just get lucky!
Later, our guides wanted to test out one other small tributary to the Rio Pico and then the main river itself, but further downstream where they had some good fishing in the past. I was intrigued with the spring creek and wondered what more exploring would produce so we split up, agreeing to meet back at the car for a late afternoon lunch.
I hiked up through the forest along the spring creek, finding very little open water, yet anywhere there was an opening, there seemed to be a good fish or two -both rainbows and browns. Many more fish were lost than caught but it was a blast, first trying to make the cast to put the fly in position where the fish could see it, and secondly, trying to land the fish without getting rapidly blown off on a variety of weeds and brush!
On my way back I came upon another small, but very deep spring creek that joined the main spring creek. I followed this small creek up its narrow overgrown ravine, not with the idea of fishing it, but trying to find a place that I could jump across and continue my journey back down river. One hundred yards up the creek; I found a small opening in the thick foliage and a pool that was perhaps five feet in diameter and a good four feet deep. Facing into the current was a brown trout that looked to be as long as my leg! It had not seen me back in the shadows and I sat there trying to figure out how in the heck I could even get a fly to it, much less land it. Since the fish was at least 3 feet deep and almost straight down, I was going to have to drop something into this big toilet bowl and hope for the best. Again, I cut back my leader and slapped on some OX tippet. I found a dark brown, #8, variegated body, rubber legged nymph I had brought that might work for a Pancora, and tied it on. Six inches up I clamped on a BB split shot that would send the rubber legs into the depths like a free dive record setter on one of those steel sleds.
With a pendulum swing cast and drop, the rubber legs shot into the depths of the pool like a free dive record setter hanging onto one of those steel sleds. The big brown jerked his head sideways and inhaled the pancora imposter. I set the hook and hung on! The big brown churned around the little pool like a cat thrown in a tumble dryer! I had exactly three feet of leader and tippet out the end of my rod and expected that this event would be short lived. A stick protruding from the bank didn't slow the action much, but it did break off the tip of my rod with an angry snap. Fortunately the leader held. I jumped down into the hole with the big trout and jammed my fingers through his  mouth attempting to get him out of the hole and up on the bank. I succeeded but at a cost of some severe lacerations and lost blood. That damn brown had teeth that would have made a python proud! Amazingly I had subdued the fish and took the time to snap a couple of photos with the pancora rubber legs and my broken rod tip hanging from the OX tippet. I held the butt section of my rod up to the fish and marked its nose on the ferrule on the second section of my four-piece Loomis StreamDance rod. Later a tape measure confirmed that the brown was big- 29 inches! I unhooked the fish, and held it in the current while it regained the strength to swim off, quickly disappearing under the deep cut bank. I was still in a state of shock while relating the tale to my friends over a good bottle of wine, hard salami and cheese at lunch. Surely a fitting way to end a memorable fishing trip.
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