Everyone familiar with fly fishing likely dreams of landing a trophy fish from the very first moment. With experience, however, one learns that large and beautiful wild fish are special for a reason. As the old saying goes: ”When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” Or should I say; When the angler is ready, the trophy fish will appear.
It’s customary among fishing colleagues to occasionally host friends in their local fishing family, showcasing their fishing grounds and special spots. I presume people of various hobbies have similar customs, but I’m convinced that in fishing, this habit is crucial for gaining diverse experiences, discovering new places, and above all, strengthening friendships. Each river has its own personality, its own secrets, and mastering its currents and eddies is part of the angler’s art. But with a knowledgeable friend by your side, who knows the waters like the back of their hand, it becomes much easier.
This time, it was Brodnik’s turn to play host, and the mighty Sava River awaited us with open arms. Despite the poor weather forecast, we decided to visit this mighty river, and before eight o’clock in the morning, I was already driving the three of us enthusiastic anglers towards the first fishing spot. We quickly set up and began fishing, lined up along the river; Svit just behind the current, me behind him, and Brodnik at the lowest point. It wasn’t even a minute before the first rod bent. Hah, of course, the bent rod belonged to a local. When he netted the fish, it was clear that it was a nice stocked trout. In this lower, calmer section of the overflow, we caught even more stocked fish later. But the Sava is primarily known for its large wild rainbow trout. I initially took such claims with a grain of salt, but after the first tug and the unwinding of the line, which took a while, it became clear that there was something to it. The first fish I caught was an exceptionally beautiful wild one, quite substantial, but somehow I didn’t expect even more exciting events that followed throughout the day.
I mostly fish on larger rivers, so I didn’t expect much effort when fly fishing in the upper part of the Sava, just after the confluence. However, it turned out that the flow was somewhat stronger, partly due to the released barriers at the dam, and the power and quantity of water in the river still somewhat overwhelmed me. The Sava is truly mighty and renowned, being the longest river in Slovenia. Its headwater area lies within our country, and more than half of the Slovenian territory belongs to its basin. Therefore, it’s not surprising that it represents a significant source of various exploitations, from agriculture to power plants. It has two source branches, but the Sava Dolinka is usually considered its main branch. It originates in Zelenci near Podkoren, flows eastward and southeastward, and merges with the Sava Bohinjka near Radovljica, which comes from Lake Bohinj. Both of these rivers and some other tributaries are a true paradise for fly fishing, but more on that another time… The combined river continues its course through the Ljubljana Basin, cuts through the Posavje Hills in a narrow gorge, crosses the Krško Basin, and enters the Pannonian Plain beneath Brežice. At this point, the already massive river slowly continues its journey across the Balkans until it empties into the Danube in Belgrade.
Navigating the river’s twists and turns, we found ourselves beneath a bridge, peering into the dark pools below. Talk turned to the legendary huchen, the apex predator of these waters, said to swallow fish whole with ease. My colleague pointed to a part of the river, and I saw a small rocky beach where, according to him, there were plenty of fish. With renewed vigor, we headed there. The river was slightly murky, and at first, I didn’t see any spot that could mean a fish, so I started systematically fishing my part of the river. Thus, I reflexively repeated a few casts when it happened. The moment I saw a huge fish right in front of me, I blinked three times and bulged my eyes to check my sight. The big creature was still there. Without hesitation, I cast towards the fish. I thought of a huchen. Most fish of this species are quite large, and there are many of them, especially in the Sava and its tributaries, so my thought was entirely trivial. The sudden cast was perfect. The fly sank nicely. The fish moved slightly to the right, opened its mouth, and paused. Despite the strong pull and the rod completely bent, the fish took a few seconds to figure out what was happening. At first, it just stood in place, in the current, motionless as a rock, and only then woke up. It descended a bit lower into a larger pool, shook its head, and realizing it was in for a serious fight, took off. It made some very strong and long runs, and then, with the help of my colleagues, relatively soon, in the first attempt, got caught in the net. Impressive. The female, which measured well over 60 cm, was in perfect health. It was adorned with intact fins, a large head with sharp teeth, and its elongated muscular body was almost too large for the net. After a brief photoshoot, I held it for a few seconds and waited for it to breathe well, then released it to bravely swim back into its kingdom. For a moment, I stepped away from the water and had a quick snack. Realizing that, from all three of us, I was the one who happened to be in the right place, at the right time I felt immense happiness and setisfaction.
Among the flies, the black perdigones in various variations, and some so-called “junk flies” proved to be the most effective. Personally, I don’t like to fish with provocative flies that don’t imitate natural organisms, but it often happens that they are very effective, especially with rainbow trout. This was also evident that day, and due to other factors that made fishing difficult, I didn’t bother too much with choosing flies but rather used what worked best. By the end of the day, we covered a large part of the river, and each of us caught some nice fish. While navigating one of the bends in the river, we were caught in a short shower, which only slightly refreshed us. After a day of escalating cloudiness and even rain, the sky cleared, and the late afternoon sun shone upon us. We ended the fishing day idyllically in the last major pool under the warm sun. Just before leaving, I caught another beautiful male, and then we marched across the field towards the car.
The evening sun stretched its rays one last time on the highway towards Ljubljana and blinded us through the side windows. I was completely exhausted from a full day of walking in strong currents, yet immensely satisfied with the day spent. With each exchanged tale among companions, my mind drifted back to the fish we’d caught. It dawned on me that the female rainbow trout I reeled in that day was undoubtedly one of the largest I’ve ever caught of its kind. Until then, at least.
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