Picking up the fish story of my struggle to land a huge musky

Please allow me to continue last week’s tale of my battle with my monster musky.

I was glad that I was in the front of the boat because I followed it when it decided to swim under the boat and go to the other side. I plunged my arms and my rod and reel into the water and followed the fish. I would have lost him if I tried to keep him in front of me. On the other side of the boat, I fought him as he stripped line from my reel.

The fish then rolled in a circle, getting curled in my 65-pound test musky line. The line was cutting into its sharp gill opening.

The spirit of great musky hunters of yesteryear must have taken over my body at this point, because I worked my line back around the fish and freed it from its entanglement, all while keeping a tight line on the fish.

It ran again and again and then went under the boat again. I maintained control and followed the fish with my rod and reel.

Although it seemed like hours, the fight lasted mere minutes. The fish now had no more will to run. I had battled the beast and beaten it. I pulled it to the surface, perpendicular to the side of the boat. Yes, indeed it was a monster.

Spence Petros, net in hand. said: “All right now, Steve, this fish is beaten. It is going to make one last little attempt at a run. Just let it run. Don’t try to horse it in. It’ll run a few feet and give up. Then you just need to crank it in and I’ll net it.”

Like Spence predicted, the valiant warrior expended a short burst of energy and ran about 4 feet down and just stopped. The fish was gassed. Victory was mere seconds away.

I had had this fish on for quite a long while. I fought it perfectly. I had set the hook like a champ. I fought it as well as anyone could. As it sat there, 4 measly feet down, the lure just fell out of its mouth.

The line didn’t break, the leader didn’t snap, the lure didn’t come apart, the hooks didn’t straighten. It just fell out of its mouth.

Spence plunged the net down into the water as far as he could reach. Up to his shoulders in cold Eagle Lake water, the huge fish was just inches below the tip of the net.

The fish was so tired it didn’t move for quite a while. We could see it sitting motionless, but there was nothing we could do about it. Finally, after about 30 seconds, the beast slowly flicked its tail and swam away ever so slowly.

Spence plopped back into his seat, and I swear that I saw a glimmer of a tear running from the corner of his eye.

He said: “That was the biggest (darn) musky I’ve ever seen. I’ve never seen many fish over the legal limit, so it’s hard to say how big she was. Maybe 57 inches, maybe 59 inches. Who knows?

“You know, you’ll fish for muskies the rest of your life and never see one that big again. I have never in my life seen a musky that was on the line that long, get off like that one did. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

I felt bad that we didn’t get photographic evidence of the fish because it was close enough to get pictures, but we all believed we’d get it in the boat.

That’s my story of the “one that got away.” It’s the truth and I’ll swear to it.

• Daily Herald Outdoors columnist Steve Sarley can be reached at sarfishing@yahoo.com.