After a slow morning of salmon fishing, where talk drifted off to Clarion Island, PV, Panama, and just about everywhere in between, the boys and I were beginning to stare off into space and wonder if the action would ever pick up.
Just then the starboard downrigger rod bucked violently, signalling a massive strike.
"HIT THAT SONOFABITCH!!!!" I screamed at Alex, who instantaneously dove for the rod and hauled back on the fish with hell bent abandon.
Feeling the sting of the hooks the fish tore off in a searing run, hammering Alex to the side of the boat as he struggled to maintain a firm grip on the rod.
"DON'T LOSE HIM!!!" screamed Greg and Ben, the line rising towards the surface at a startling rate.
"HE'S COMING UP!!! GET READY FOR THE JUMP! BOW THE ROD!!! BOW THE GODDAMN ROD!!!" we all hollered in unison as the seas parted and a nuclear submarine went Apollo 7 towards the stratosphere.
Shock. Awe. Absolute catastrophic silence as we watched the beast clear the water, perform a barrel roll mid-air, and then crash back into the cold, deep waters from whence it came - snapping the line with an authoritative CRACK as it went.
Heartbreak, shame, furious regret.
I've seen a lot of big salmon in my day, but that one took the cake.
Well amigos, he's still out there. And tomorrow's another day....


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