Hucho Hucho Trip – 3 Days Fishing 

Hucho Hucho Trip – 3 Days Fishing in December

Footage from an unforgettable fishing journey abroad, guided by local experts in Slovenia.

This Hucho Hucho trip wasn’t about numbers. It was about presence, patience, and moments that stick long after you’re home.

I arrived in the Balkans a day earlier. I flew in from Oslo, the others from England. Paperwork done, a 4×4 picked up, and straight to the apartments. As soon as I got the keys, a crystal-clear stream was flowing right outside. Backpack on, a short walk to scout the water. Silence. Clean current. Beautiful structure. My head was already fishing.

Later—shopping. I’ve been here before, so I knew exactly what to look for. Gifts you don’t find in Norway or anywhere else. Mission accomplished: jewelry for my wife. Dinner was simple—hot rotisserie chicken and a local salad from the store. Honestly, better than a restaurant.

In the evening, I picked up the crew at the airport. Same sickness, same obsession: Hucho. Good vibes, quick introductions, some laughs… and then the classic enemy—an early alarm 😄

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Hucho Hucho Day 1

We split into teams. Two rivers, two plans.

Our team walked nearly 30,000 steps. Endless casts. The river was unreal—deep runs, bends, rocks, perfect-looking water everywhere. Everything felt right. Result? Zero. Homework done, but Hucho had other plans.

The other team had more luck. One follow from an 80–90 cm fish. Another angler had three takes—two lost, one landed. Small, but real: a 65.5 cm Hucho. First mark on the list.

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Day 2

We switched rivers with the other team.

They had just one follow all day. For us, things finally started to move.

Early morning, already walking away from the river. The guide says, “Let’s go.” I say, “Give me two minutes.” One cast—bam, a hit… and nothing. Missed. But it was just getting light. Something was happening.

A few hours later, further down the river—another strike. I saw the fish. Around a meter. Again, no hook-up. Slow retrieve, perfect angle… still nothing.

Then my teammate gets a hit. Same story—no connection. Frustrating. Almost felt like the fish were pushing us out of their territory.

We drove to a spot where I’d done well last year—three fish back then, kept the smallest at around 80 cm. This time? Silence.

After lunch (pizza with anchovies 😄), the water started to color up. Rain in the mountains. Hope came back. A small one tried to take the lure just as I was lifting it out.

We fished until dark, using every minute we were allowed. Then back home.

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Day 3

Teams split again. New rivers.

A beautiful day. Action was there, but not everything fits into words. Not everything is about centimeters or photos. Sometimes it’s about being exactly where you should be, with the right people.

I had fished with this guide before—good to meet again. A man with real experience. Traveled the world, crossed countless rivers, landed serious fish. People like that remind you: the process matters just as much as the result.

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Create your own memories—and join us next time.
Hucho isn’t easy. But when it happens, it stays with you for a long time.

Hucho is my second name.