From the then editor Don Lynch's "The Argus Observes" column
in the August 20, 1953 issue of The (Ontario, Oregon) Argus Observer
Zimm had told me where to fish. And it had worked out all right accorind to my standards, those of a dub who does not require many or very large fish to be happy.
“There’s some dandies right here in the meadow but you have to knowhow to catch them,” he said.
It was his busy season. For two months he had refused the temptation to fish with other summer guests. But he broke down one evening last August and took me fishing in the meadow.
First we worked the pools close to the cabins using a fly and caught half a dozen little squaw fish. They were to be our bait.
Then we drove a couple of miles down the meadow and walked in a little ways to a big deep pool where the water hardly moved.
We skinned the thick meat off the sides of the squaw fish and folded it over our hooks until they were concealed.
We wore tennis shoes instead of boots so we could wade waist deep. We worked opposite sides of the stream. Our lines were pretty well weighted and we threw them in above the deep water letting they work into the holes with the current.
The action started slow. I caught the first two --- nice ten-inch trout.
There was a point and a little brush in my way and the current was wrong. It kept me from getting into the deep hole.
Then after a half hour or so Zimm caught a better one. He motioned for me to come over to his side.
I waded across. My feet found a sand bar and I walked along it close the deep water.
The dusk settled in. I could just barely see my line against the dark water. I thought I had a bite and tried to set the hook. There wasn’t any jerk and I thought the weighted line had just hit a rock or log.
Then it started to move. Clear across the pool, deep. I set the hook a little harder and went to work.
It took all the skill I had. We battled for several minutes before I gained ground and reeled him a little closer slowly.
I didn’t have a landing net and knew I didn’t dare try to lift him. So I walked backward slowly along the bar, and then moved gently to the bank.
Well sir, sliding that boy out onto the grass was a real thrill. He measured just 15 inches but it was the biggest trout I had ever caught and an experience to remember for a long time.
If all goes well, as this is read we will be back in the same region trying to play a repeat performance of the same experience. This coming weekend has been set aside for our summer fishing trip. --- By Don Lynch