Not the first outing this season, but the weather's been unruly, putting my fishing plans on hold. Finally, spring has graced Lithuania with its radiant sunshine, prompting me to start mapping out regular trips. I pick up where I left off last season, heading to a familiar spot. Upon arrival, I notice two cars already parked—one angler downstream, another likely trekking upstream. I opt to venture further upriver, about 5 kilometers. Swiftly, I prepare my gear and make my way to the river. The water levels are within the normal range, albeit a tad muddy, still suitable for fishing. The start is rather lackluster—cast after cast, no bites, and no trout in sight. I meticulously explore every potential hotspot. About two hours in, I finally get a bite. There's a fallen tree obstructing the river, creating a deeper enclave where the current diligently carves its path beneath the wooden blockade. As my lure passes through a trout elegantly emerges, briefly nudging the minnow, but fails to take the bait. I try once more, with the same frustrating outcome. Three more casts yield nothing. Changing the lure proves futile as well. It appears I squandered my opportunity. Determined, I press onward. Half an hour later, in a stretch of the river that runs straight as an arrow, I successfully hook the first trout of the day—a minuscule 25-centimeter specimen. The Spearhead Ryuki 50S lure did the trick, barely hooking onto its lip. I set it free. I forge ahead, continuously switching lures, but it seems their choice is inconsequential today. What truly matters is locating the trout—they're hungry and ready to strike. Another trout succumbs to the allure of the Ryuki lure, yet again a smaller one. I pause to indulge in a well-deserved lunch break, embracing the opportunity to unwind and savor the crisp freshness of the air. Following my meal, I find myself blessed with the thrill of a significant trout bite. A bend in the river reveals a deep abyss. Poised on a small ledge, I cast my line. The first attempt proves fruitless, but on the second, a colossal trout emerges from the depths, lunges at the lure, splashing on the surface, only to elude capture. I had my chance and squandered it. Unperturbed, I soldier on, reeling in one more modest-sized trout and encountering yet another missed opportunity. The day concludes with a total of six bites and three trout captured in my landing net. I can't help but speculate that larger trout lie upstream. Given the recent warmer days, my intuition tells me they're still in a sluggish state after spawning, nesting comfortably near their breeding grounds.

A week later, the sun blazes overhead, casting its golden glow upon the landscape. The temperature climbs to a pleasant +18 degrees, and the weather presents itself in all its splendid glory. I decide to venture to a river not far from Vilnius, a place I frequented when I first embarked on my trout-fishing journey. In those early days, I tried my luck downstream, but only managed to reel in modest-sized trout. However, that was six or seven years ago. Now, I set my sights on the mid-river section, enticed by the tip from a fellow angler that there are fine trout lurking in that patch. As I venture away from the car, the heat quickly intensifies, enveloping me in its scorching embrace. I pause to shed a few layers, seeking respite from the searing rays. The area proves to be an arduous challenge, with towering grass and knee-high mud that test my every step. Casting becomes a Herculean task amidst these unfavorable conditions. Alas, this patch fails to yield any fruitful results. However, I recall that the forest awaits further upstream, beckoning me with the promise of smoother terrain and greater casting opportunities. And true to my instincts, I am rewarded. As I stand in one particular spot, casting straight ahead, my peripheral vision catches a flicker on the surface—a trout feeding! The river has carved a hollow beneath the bank, concealing a crafty trout below. On my first cast, I receive a bite, but it slips away before I can secure the hook. Undeterred, I try again, and this time the trout takes the bait. It darts towards me, engaging in a final battle as I strive to net my victory. Luck favors me, and I emerge triumphant. The trout measures a respectable 35 centimeters—a prize worth celebrating. I snap a couple of photos to immortalize the moment before releasing it back into the flowing depths. The Major Craft Eden lure proved its worth, providing a sigh of relief that the first catch didn't keep me waiting too long. Considering the late start to my day and an empty stomach devoid of breakfast, I indulge in a satisfying lunch, replenishing my energy for the journey ahead. Energized, I continue my expedition. The scenery undergoes a transformation as more trees come into view. The river transitions from sinuous depths to a broader, more linear course. Cast after cast, I persist, and another trout succumbs to the allure, though smaller in size, it exudes an impressive vigor and plumpness. In hopes of enticing a larger catch, I switch lures, only to find another trout of similar proportions lured by my offering. It swiftly seizes the lure upon landing on the water's surface. Continuing on, another hundred meters pass, but I decide to halt my fishing endeavors as I enter a populated area, where distant figures diligently tend to their springtime chores. The first two out with a collection of fine trout. Now, I eagerly await the arrival of even larger specimens, eager to test my skills against their might.

30min pass with no action. I set my eyes on a spot under a leaning tree. The lure lands, first turn of the real a bite, but no hook up. Another cast even closer to the bank and deeper into the trees shadow. The crank starts to wobble and a hit. A feisty chub, bigger than the last. Quick fight and the chub is in the landing net. As I release him the fly fisherman leaves. So I check another 15 meters upstream and head towards were he fished.

Start casting in promising spots but no bites. I head closer to the bank and start checking between the weeds. I reel the lure and about 5m from me a hit. A bigger fish is on. I drag it to the surface it does its best to get away but I scoop it up. A 1.5kg pike. I admire the fish and let it go. Satisfied with this spot. I head to the car and head to another patch further upstream.

Upon arriving have some lunch while observing an old fisherman. His float did not move and soon enough he slowly paddled his boat further upstream. Hope he lands something. I start checking for chub. Cast after cast nothing. I head downstream. The flow carves the bank, creating deeper water with high banks. I head to check those areas. Up and down the bank I go. Casting downstream, upstream. Soon enough I land a perch. Would not be an Autumn fishing trip without one. Further downstream another one. The next 100m meters I check every inch of the river. I interchange my lures. Tried minnows, cranks and spoons. Although the area seemed promising I had no more bites. Head back home. A great 5 hour session.

Big river, big chub

Second day

Day two. Joined by a friend we try another patch. Longer drive with a more challenging terrain. We end up at a cliff side, below us the river. We prep the gear and head out.

Big Chub

Casting across the river to deeper areas gave no luck and we change our tactic. We start getting bites when casting along the banks as close to the vegetation as possible. Small chub hit the lure. This continues for a couple hours during which I land a couple bigger ones. By bigger I mean from 10-11cm to 17-18cm. We continue in hopes of a serious fish. After passing some fast shallow flow a splash echoes near the bank were the water deepens. We both acknowledge it with a glance. We wade closer to the area in question.

I cast towards the drop off. As soon as I start reeling a hit soon after my rods bends. A big one is at the other end of the line. Fish on. It takes some line and shoots to the depths. The rod and reel break do there job of absorbing the punches. I reel slow and steady. The fish changes course and start going down river. The addition of the current puts extra stress on the rod and it bends half way. I move towards the bank where the flow is slow and the water is shallow. Couple more reel turns and I see the fish on the surface at first glance I fought is was a pike, my friends yells "Its an asp". Both wrong. The menace is a monster 52cm chub. The fish got a gulp of air and seems tired out. I grab my landing net only to pass it to my friend as I am struggling to reel in the last meters. The fish has a last gasp attempt at escape and trashes its head with hope that the barbless hook shakes loose. But it's too late I move towards the landing net my friend to the fish. It's in.

We are both giddy like children and in shock at the size of this river monster. Even holding it felt awkward because I could not grasp the width of the fish with comfort. I pass the camera to my friend, free the fish of the hook, measure it. Pose for some pictures and set this beast free. What a fight and fish. My personal best. It will live in my memory forever. We continue in hopes that my friend lands something decent as well, but all he got was a perch. After an hour we decide to head home.