The Mystery Fish

[Guest]

We've all experienced it, I don't have to tell you.

 

You're standing there fishig normally, when something takes your fly, bait or lure, and heads for parts unknown, nearly taking you along for the ride. It stops the heart temporarily, and if there are people around and the fishing has been average or slow, even when it gets away, it makes you da man for the moment. When you are alone, and the fishing has been so-so, it becomes your nightmare, because it made your day. Almost.

 

 

I'd had a pretty good day. I was fishing about 1 1/2 hours from home, catching a limit of Perch on a streamer of my own creation, which is always a nice way to spend the day. It was about 82 degrees, with sporadic stiff winds, and fairly regular soft breezes. Clouds floated by now and then, otherwise it was a bright, clear, humid, sunny day.

 

I'd been fishing for hours, thoroughly covering an area filled with patches of weeds and gravel drop-offs, about 60, 70 yards long, and about 30 yards out into the lake. It was getting late in the the day, and I didn't want to be driving that distance, that late after being out in the energy draining sun and heat all day. I have this thing though; I hate to stop by the roadside to wake myself up. After some ruthless self-examination, I think it's just stupid pride. I'd rather there be a rest stop or something so that I can look like I stopped for a reason. This has led to some interesting drives from Lake Erie to Pittsburgh.

 

Anyway, I figured what better way to pit stop than to stop at a lake approximately halfway between the one I was fishing and home? So, about an hour or so before dark, I packed the Perch into the cooler, and my rod in the trunk. I kept my waders on because they are comfortable enough to drive in, and I figured I'd be in the water again in a half hour or so anyway. I revved up my baby (my car of course) and headed South.

 

When I arrived at lake number two, there were a couple of guys on my spot, but they were kind enough to make a space for me, so I joined in. The Crappies and Bluegill were biting steadily, but none of them went beyond 7 or 8 inches. Fun mind you, just not outstanding. As night began to fall, I started to look around warily, because the spot I was on is semi-remote. Not remote for you real wilderness fishers, but off the beaten path still. In addition, there are bears and Coyotes in the area. My car was only about 40 yards away, but I planned to be in it once night settled in with dark finality.

 

Let me describe the area a bit. It's an old bridge abutment, with trees to the left, right, and behind. Lots of timber in the water, too. Fishing this spot means bringing lots of flies, because if you're fishing it most effectively, you're losing them at least every 20 minutes to a half hour. You can go to a heavy tippet on days when the fish let you, and I wholeheartedly advise you do so. As dark fell, and the night sounds began, I kept telling myself the same thing we all do when we should have left 10 minutes prior: One more cast... one more cast... last cast... last cast...

 

After it got dark, on a whim, I decided to grab my ultralight rod, which is loaded with 2# test, just in case I hit really clear water or need a sensitive lure presentation. I tie a lot of micrjigs, and had tied on a 1/64 oz lead head which I'd tied with White Marabou and Rainbow Trout pattern Flashabou. One cast, which I could just barely see hit the water thanks to the moonlight glinting off the edges of the ripples it created as a result of its entrance into the now dark liquid realm, produced one Crappie.

 

Cast number two produced another.

 

Cast number three stopped dead as I reeled it in. Then, it moved. Then it throbbed. Then it ran. It continued running...

 

 

 

 

...and running...

 

 

 

...and running...

 

 

...and running. (What is this???)

 

 

I first thought maybe it was the massive Snapping Turtle which had surfaced for a breath about 20 minutes prior, about 12 feet to the left of where I got this hit. No, it was moving too steadily. I clambored over the rocks to get down to the water, figuring that if I was able to land this fish, my only chance would be to get in the water and grab it once I pulled it near. I looked at my Daiwa reel, now stripped of easily over half its line. Line was showing that hadn't seen the light of day since last Fall when I put it on the reel in the first place. The fish finally stopped, and my thoughts raced as the only other humans in the area (the guys fishing shore where I was had left well before now), three boats across the bay from me, began to leave the area, their running lights fading in the distance. I thought, "Crud! Nobody will see me land this fish!" "Nobody will be here if a bear jumps out!" "Can I land this fish?" "If he strips my whole spool, he'll be out there with 80 yards of mono hanging from his mouth! Maybe I should just break it off so that doesn't happen?" "Is it a Hybrid Striper?" "A big Walleye?" "Can I get a decent picture in this light?"

 

It stopped running, finally. I discovered that if I pulled to a point that felt like the line would break, I could "convince" the fish to move, and for 10 minutes, we actually went back and forth in the battle. Suddenly, there was no give on the end of my line! It just dug in deep, and refused to budge! As the Mosquitos buzzed my ears, and the dirt and humidity of the day, gradually worsening as night deepend, crusted my face and arms, I began to wonder what to do. I would pull on the line until my rod went nearly double, yet no movement. I tweaked the line after pulling it taut, a maneuver I read about in a fishing magazine somewhere years ago, guranteed to spark a dug-in opponent into action. Yes, it does work.

 

 

However...

 

 

...nothing happened. My heart began to sink as I wondered what was going on. As the bats swooped over the water, as something rustled the weeds behind me, as the frogs began their chorus for the first time this year, my line snapped.

 

I reeled for what seemed like eternity, and when I got to the end, I felt the telltale bulge at the end of the line that admonished me for recognizing the fact that the knot is the weakest point in the fight.

 

When there is no one around but you, you've fought for a long time under conditions in which you normally don't even fish, the hit came on something you yourself tied, your rod is bent to an amazing degree, and your spool has been almost emptied of line, the mystery fish is a dirty rotten--

 

I'll stop there.

[Guest]

Ah yes, another story about the one that got away.

 

Well at least we got to see you fight it. Love the story, Mark A big channel cat maybe?

[stel 0]

Good read, thanks for sharing.

 

I couldn't even guess what it was. Maybe one of those monster crappie we always dream about

[Steeldrifter 0]

Worlds biggest bluegill mark?

 

Great story man i enjoyed it alot

 

SD

[dabalone 0]

well lets see....... ended with "dirty rotten".... process of elimination, what have you called dirty rotten while fishing before? Narrows it down to just maybe 20 things for me.

[sandflyx 0]

Either a carp or catfish....which both are blast on fly tackle !!!!!!!!!!

[MIKE*A 0]

Thats hilarious..........my guess is a big cat........

[MIKE*A 0]

The beginning of your story got me to thinking(you mentioned your concern of coyotes/bears/etc.......a lot of my fishing is done on the three rivers that run thru downtown Dayton(much smaller than your "three rivers"). We have a tremendous network of bike trails in the Dayton area, so some days, i grab my mountain bike and head off fishing. some of my favorite spots are near large storm culverts ranging in size from 10-20' in diameter. they form nice deep pools that empty into the rivers. Within 100' of my #1 spot is a "CHUD" encampment (also known as a homeless tent city). The "CHUD" thing is a long story refering to where this camp originated from......anyway, it's not unusual to pull up to that one and be greeted by a bunch of homeless people taking a bath. The next one in the line has the dubious distinction of having a body wash out of it during a hard Summer rain storm a couple years ago........fortunately, if one of my spots is "occupied", there are plenty of others to hit. Last summer, I caught a 2-3# smallie out of the "CHUD" hole.