So back on Tuesday, my sister Liz was over and feeling down so I said, “What the hell, let’s go fishing!” so we went to Johnson Park – my usual spot for bluegill. It was cold, the fish weren’t biting. After about an hour – and trying nearly every lure in my box and a quarter loaf of bread – we had plenty of nibbles, but only caught one 3-4″ gill. It was a bit disheartening.
On the side I decided to bait a hook with a bread ball and throw on a large 1/4″ splitshot and let it sink to the bottom, hoping to go after a bigger bluegill. A couple casts and drops didn’t pull anything up, and in the normal way of things, I forgot about the rod.
Fast forward about 10 minutes: We get our second fish: Another puny 3-4″ bluegill, and before we’re able to get him off the hook and toss him back, we hear the drag on the forgotten rod start to squeal, and the rod start to work its way over the dock’s rail.
Something big was on it.
We strung the small gill up above the water and I grabbed the rod before we lost it and started reeling in… and if you were there you probably heard a panicked exchange somewhere along the lines of:
“Get the net!”
“Where’s the net?”
“In the cart!”
“I don’t see a net!”
“It’s the collapsed thingy!”
“The collapsed thingy?!”
“Take the rod!”
“Got it!”
“Don’t let it get away!”
“I’m trying!!”
“I’ve got the net!”
“Get it over here!”
“I’m trying!”
“Switch!”
“Get it! Get it! Get it!”
etc.. 🙂
It kept pulling on the drag and trying to go under the dock, but by some miracle (the fish was 6 pounds – and the line was 4 pound test, and it fought the whole damn way) we managed to net it and bring it up onto the dock. It was too big for the bucket, and at nearly 23″ it was by far the largest freshwater fish either of us had ever caught.
It was a freaking Pokémon.
Peace,
-Steve
