::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Ahh she looks good, doesn't she? She felt good too, especially the part when she swam away. But there is something about the picture that makes me feel kind of strange, almost dirty in a way. I didn't catch that fish, someone else did. Someone named Ray Graf, who was fishing from shore with 12lb test and a 2" silver spoon from Kmart. Yet I am the one in the picture holding her, not Ray.
Now I am sure you are wondering why I am holding Ray's fish. The truth is that I believe it was fate...
O n a sunny tournament day in 2005, teammate Hans Mann and I were making a final trolling pass near the mouth of our favorite canal when suddenly we both had a similar feeling: We had to troll into the canal . It was shallow in there (up to 9 feet) but we had to go in anyway. So we followed our guts, as we usually do and we trolled on in.
Along the sides of the canal are tall concrete walls rising about 6-7 feet above the water. As we trolled along, two shore fishermen standing up on one of these walls slowly came into focus. One of them was standing on a white bucket with a bent over rod, while another one appeared to be reaching down into the water with an extra long-handled minnow net.
Then a third fisherman came sprinting down the cement wall running toward us: "FISH ON!" He yells. "Fish On!"
I give him a funny look and then I ask, half jokingly, "What is it? A muskie?"
"Yeah." he says, coldly. "It's a muskie."
At first, I admit, we were doubtful. As a child I had fished from shore hundreds of times and I never even saw a muskie until I began targeting them about five years earlier. But just in case the guy was telling the truth, Hans and I decided to switch into rescue mode.
We bring in our lines as fast as we can, drop the trolling motor and shoot over toward the men on the wall. Both of us are thinking: Maybe this is it. Maybe it's a real live "Accidental Muskie."
As I pull up we can see what appears to be the back portion of a muskie's tail near the wall. After a moment, it thrashes on the surface and we both exhale. If it is indeed a muskie, at least it is still alive. We move in closer.
The guy on the break wall with the net calls down at us, "Good thing you pulled up. You saved us a long walk. We was trying to push it with the net down to them rocks down there at the end of the channel, so we could beach her." Beach her ? Geez. Looks like we pulled up just in time.
In a wisp, Hans hands me the net. And then something strange happens. I get dizzy, and hot. I think I am hallucinating. What I expected to see was a small 30 inch fish thrashing around in the water. What I see before me is stunning. Random words and adjectives flash through my brain Huge. Girtha. Monster. Crocodile. Timmy Wittek. Photograph. Help . Right below us in the water is the biggest fish I have ever seen in my life. I start to shake.
Now I will stop here to note something. The next few minutes of what happened is sort of a blur. If you have ever been in a car accident, or a street fight, you know the feeling. Things happen very fast, but at the same time in slow motion. Each moment that passes records an impression on your memory, but not in the same way that a normal memory is left. Instead, each moment is coated with intense emotion, so that when you go to recollect the memory you actually feel it first. And in your head you know that it really happened, but in the memory it feels like it happened to someone else, and you were just there as a spectator; watching.
Now in telling this story I tried to cut away all those emotions. And this is what I can remember for 100% fact:
We net the fish and unhook her. We measure her accurately at 55" on the nose.
We then use our smooth-talking skills and an $80 bottle of sixteen-year-old scotch to bribe the guys into believing that letting her go was a good idea (although I have to say, that Ray was very cool from the get go. He wanted to let her go right away. All he wanted was his lure back. The other two guys who were helping him land the fish were a little less willing, but the free booze won them over instantly)
Next, we tried to figure out a way where Ray could safely take a picture with the fish. Ray didn't want to jump down 7 feet into the boat, and dragging the fish up the wall wasn't an option (not for us anyway). So Ray very coolly suggested, "Why don't one of you just take a picture of it in the net? Really, it's not a big deal to me anyway." He pauses and reconsiders. "Or why doesn't one of you just take a picture with it and just send it to me? I'll give you my business card. "
And that was that.
For the picture, I was voted to hold the fish to give it a better perspective of its real size. (Hans has a tendency of making even the biggest fish look small). (Editor's Note: Hans is 6'5" tall and 390lbs where as I am only 5'11" 180lbs).
After the picture I set the massive fish back in the water and begin to release her. I look up to Ray and say "Do you realize what you just did? You caught the fish of a lifetime." In my head I know this may be the largest fish I ever see in person. I continue, "There are a dozen boats out there fishing a big money tournament for muskies, pulling big lures in expensive boats, and you guys get a fish like this back here on a spoon by accident from shore? That's amaz..."
"You guys in the tournament?" Ray interrupts. "Looks like you guys just won"
But immediately Hans and I were on the same page. No. Never. Not in a million years. Because although the fish would have won money and maybe even a little recognition, lying about it would have defeated the entire purpose of muskie fishing and personal goals, at least in our eyes anyway.
But we laugh about the thought for a second, and then decide to quit the tournament early due to mental shock. The rest is history.
The last image we see as we drift away is the two fishermen sitting on their white buckets chugging $80 scotch like it is well tequila, waving at us.
Recently, a good friend and mentor of mine, Marc Arena, wrote a local article titled Picture Worthy . Marc - who has caught hundreds of muskies in his day - described in his article the moral dilemma he sometimes encounters when deciding whether or not to photograph a fish, or to just water release it. Sometimes I think about that article when I see a picture of the 55" fish. I guess in the end I don't feel worthy that I am the one in the picture with her. It should have been Ray. But a picture with Ray would have only been possible through the death of the fish. So that's why I believe it was fate that brought us there and fate that helped her to live for another day.
I titled this piece The Fish I'm Most Proud of, I Never Caught . And in the end I am proud of this fish. I'm proud because I believe we saved her life. And I am happy for the picture, because at the very least, it reminds me of that.
- JK
