Sometimes when you set the hook on a bigger fish, you can feel it. You can sometimes feel smaller fish get drug through the water when you give them a good hookset. Bigger fish sometimes feel like their mass prevents them from budging as much. I had a feeling, based on the hookset and the slow but steady pulling motion, that I had hooked into something that was above average by my standards. After a playful and lighthearted tug of war, the fight became serious.
When I recognized the seriousness of the situation, I finagled my way to fight the fish on my reel. To say that the battle was intense would be an understatement. There were runs that scared me. The fish got near some brush and I was fearful that he would get me wrapped up and find a way to break me off. With each head shake, I could envision my fly being jettisoned out of the beast's mouth. And while I was indeed scared of losing the fish, I found myself immersed in the moment. I reminded myself to just appreciate every second even if the ending of the story seemed intimidating.
After what felt like 15 minutes (probably closer to 2 minutes) the fish began to tire and I got the first glimpse of my opponent. It wasn't a wall hanger or trophy, but it was the biggest bass that I had ever caught in the lake. At the very end of the fight when the leviathan was close to the boat, I regretted not bringing my net. When I had the chance to lip my adversary, I put a grip on it that ensured that there would not be an escape. The tail of the tape was 18 inches long and a weight of a little more than 3 pounds.
I took a moment to appreciate the gift that I had been given. I think every fish is a gift but like a small child on Christmas morning, I like the big gifts just a little better. I slipped the hydrilla gorilla into the water and watched it swim off. Hopefully we get a chance to meet again one day and/or someone gets a chance to experience the exhilaration that I felt. Maybe the gift will be even bigger one day too!
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