As any reader of my blog (all three of them!) would know, my preferred method for fishing such a lake is trolling. I started out by letting two lures out a reasonable distance behind my canoe. On one rod was the old standard, a frog flatfish. I always start at least one rod with this lure, as the number of times its saved me from fishless days is...well, not very many, but I still like this lure. I tied a small green wedding ring on the other, and tipped it with a piece of stale Powerbait. I set both rods down in the boat and began trolling. Almost immediately, the rod with the wedding ring got crushed.
I lose so many trout on wedding rings. The single small hook that comes affixed to the lure doesn't hook large trout very well, and I'm always too lazy to put a second one on because it means I'll have to take the entire wedding ring apart. The slightest amount of slack is all a fish needs to toss the hook, and I'll need to start manning up and put that second hook on before I embarrass myself anymore.
I found that the fish were biting the hardest along the lily pads lining the west side of the lake. After a few more fish on the wedding ring, I tied another one on the second rod and began having double hookups. In addition to the hatchery fish stocked every year by the ODFW, Trillium Lake has a self-sustaining population of fish that thrive in the rich environment of the lake. These fish can be distinguished from their hatchery counterparts by their vigor and brighter coloration.
Whenever you go fishing, no matter how well you plan everything out, there's always something that doesn't go according to plan. Maybe you forgot your license or a certain lure you wanted to try, or maybe you get lost on your way to the lake. Maybe it's just that the fish aren't biting. In this case it was the wind. As anyone who goes canoeing knows, canoes are at the mercy of the wind. Unlike a kayak, which can cut through powerful gusts, canoes catch every ounce of the wind and go wherever it wants it to go. This is difficult enough to handle by itself, let alone when there are two fishing rods with lines in the water to manage. None of the pictures seem unusually windy, but this is because we were too busy frantically trying to regain control of the boat and cursing amidst being tangled in the fishing lines to even consider taking photos. Once the wind died down, everything seemed to return to normal until I realized that I had forgotten something along the way.
| You're going to need that. |
Of course, right as we realized we had left our oar halfway across the lake, the wind had picked up again. It's safe to say that at least half of the trip was spent trying to recover that oar. Thankfully, the fish were still biting by the time we had sorted everything out.
Much of Trillium Lake's popularity is owed to the fact that it is essentially the ideal lake. When driving past Government Camp along the highway leading to Central Oregon and Hood River, Trillium Lake is the first you encounter. It's a quick and straightforward drive, unlike the meandering maze along a 60 mile dirt road that leads to Olallie Lake. It's also the perfect size and the natural layout of the lake makes it ideal for a wide variety of activities. It's reasonably large, but not overwhelming or unusually deep like Timothy Lake. The bottom is slightly muddy, but not like the mucky ooze that lines every inch of Frog Lake. Although the water is cold, it's not freezing like Timothy Lake, and this makes it ideal for swimming. And most importantly, the fishing is great.
Like many of the other lakes in the area, Trillium Lake is one I've been going to for years. Although I haven't visited it much in the last few seasons due to its crowdedness, I remember coming here for group camping trips when I was little. Like I said, Trillium Lake is perfect in many ways, and this made it attractive to the people who invited me camping with them. Although I didn't do much fishing and it was so long ago I can't remember most of it, I do remember the parents inflating one of those giant inflatable water castle things for us to play on. The thing was enormous, and it seemed like it took up half the lake. We spent hours climbing and jumping off that thing into the water, trying to outdo each other in who could create the biggest splash. It was fun back then, but the thought of a similar group of kids doing something like that while I'm trying to fish makes me cringe.
Nothing is more satisfying than seeing a rod get crushed while trolling. Unlike the hesitant little taps that come with still fishing Powerbait or worms, lures like wedding rings and plugs incite aggressive strikes from fish. I've never had a situation where I wasn't sure if I had a fish on or not. Even if you aren't looking anywhere near your rod tip, you can always feel the force of the rod slamming down from wherever you are in the boat. It's always hard to tell what size the fish are when they strike.
Having a party I needed to attend in a few hours, I needed to reel up and head back a little early. It had been a productive few hours of fishing in one of the most beautiful lakes in the Mt. Hood area, and reminded me why I loved fishing here. Although the rainbow trout here by Mt. Hood are no different than the ones they stock in the ponds back in Portland, it's an entirely different experience to fish here. I could go on a sappy tirade about everything that makes the Mt. Hood area "magical" or quote something from "A River Runs Through it" but I'll just end it by saying that I would rather fish here than anywhere else. Then again, I haven't been to Alaska yet.
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