At the far reaches of the Southern Hemisphere, sea-run browns make a genetic choice: run to the sea and gorge themselves silly, or go upstream and gorge themselves moderately. Deeter simply gorges on carnes and malbec and ties into some of the largest, strongest trout on the planet.

Words: Kirk Deeter

“11 p.m.—twilight at the tip of Tierra del Fuego. Sitting on a lenga tree watching brown trout churn through a dark pool on Rio Irigoyen, some 30 feet down the bank, I tied on a black streamer and a random thought caused me to smirk: “Captain Ahab would’ve broken into a fit of mocking laughter if he knew the miles and hours I’ve spent chasing these fish.”

Of course, I’m not the only one to be smitten by salmo trutta. Like many kids who grow up in Michigan—or New York, or Montana, or Bariloche, Argentina, or on the South Island of New Zealand, or many other places where people chase trout with flies—my first flyfishing adventures involved brown trout.”

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