Warning: This story does not include a picture.
The Wisconsin River in May has always drawn me to it for the awesome Smallmouth and Walleye bite. On this day once again I trudged the half mile down the rail road tracks to my beloved bridge trestles.
I started the day throwing cranks for the normally reliable smallies with no success. After breaking off a snag I decided to switch to my tube set-up for maybe coaxing some neutral fish. With 40 lb power pro on a 7 foot heavy action rod I was ready to put the smackdown on a few smallmouth. ( I use this heavy set up because many times I will fish on top of the railroad bridge and need to hoist them the 20 feet to the top of the bridge)
I was on top of the bridge when I made my initial casts. About the third cast I felt the tap as a fish took my offering and set the hook. THe fish felt solid and started swimming toward me in the water below.
The fish turned and suddenly it was apparent that this was no smallmouth. The fish made a run and the line screamed off it despite a very tight drag (I use this pole as my bass fishing top water rod while fishing largemouth) I loosened the drag slighty and watched with dismay as my reel lost almost all of it’s line at an alarming rate. Finally the run ended with just a little line left on my reel.
The next 20 minutes were spent with me gaining some line and then losing it again. Lift, lift, lift, reel, reel, reel, over and over again with runs mixed in. Despite fatigued arms the fish was finally losing ground.
Finally the beast came to the surface, I was astonished at the size of this fish and estimated him between 40 to 50 lbs. The fish was beat and I admired his massive head with the little bass tube nestled in the corner of his mouth. But…he’s down there and with no one in sight I knew it was going to be next to impossible to maneuver him to shore
around the cement bridge abutments.
I lead him into the heavy current and released my reel to let him travel downstream in an effort to clear the abutment (I ran to the end of the bridge to try to clear the abutment). During this process I was unable to muscle him around the abutment and he finally cut my line at the base of the structure.
For some reason I was OK with the outcome. I wasn’t looking forward to grapping his jaw to land him or deciding whether to pack him out the half mile or release him. He made the decision for me.
I do have an appreciation now for those of you who spend your nights pursuing these monster catfish. That fight was the most physical encounter I have ever had with a fish and even a week later I’m still amazed at the strength of that fish. Sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to get a picture.
