Wind, water, imagination can conspire to mask what’s really going on

The funny thing about fishing trips is that you never know when the catch of a lifetime might end up on the end of your line — or what you’ll do about it! This is the story of a close encounter I’ll ever forget.

I was guiding a father and two boys at San Luis Reservoir. The fishing had been decent, releasing a dozen fish in the 4- to 5-pound range trolling lures around the coves. Around 2 p.m. we agreed that they would catch just one more striper and call it a day.

I trolled east over a flat plateau using a minnow-type lure I had beefed up with stronger and sharper hooks. The depth came up to about 30 feet and I worried that the lure 140 feet behind the boat might get snagged on the bottom. Not long after, I saw the line snap back; I was snagged! It felt pretty solid as I jiggled the pole. Time to turn around and get it unhooked. The wind was blowing a good 15 mph from the west.

I hadn’t retreated far when one of the kids reeling up the slack told me the line went straight down to the snag. I went up and took the pole and tried jiggling and jerking it loose. We hadn’t gone far enough to be where the lure should be stuck, and the feeling I had jerking it wasn’t like it was on the bottom; more like putty. With the wind blowing, the boat rocking and me trying to get going, I wasn’t thinking about what might be on the other end.

Pretty soon after, waves were coming over the stern. Now the father is in the front of the boat holding the pole in the water. The line is going back under the boat to the west, and I’m trying to stop the drift eastward, when he tells me that he can feel something moving and kind of shaking its head. Could it be a fish?

He says it’s pulling real hard now. I’m thinking the line might be in the prop and pulling against him.

I’m backing into the wind trying to get a handle on things while the dad tells me it’s pulling harder. Half the pole is down in the water and he’s hanging on for dear life. I’m sure I’m backing up, so why aren’t we making up any ground on whatever has the hook? I’m still thinking snag.

I decide I’ve got to turn the front of the boat into the wind and as I get it just about there I hear one of the boys yell out that almost all the line on the reel is gone! How could that be? There is around 150 yards on a spool.

I’m gathering steam going west. The father is in the front of the boat on the deck with the line heading due west when he yells out it’s taking all the line now. A second later, there’s a loud, “Bam!” I’ve never been spooled before! I was in shock.

That’s when I realized that during the whole time the father had been frantically holding the pole, the tightened drag had been screaming out line. The drag is pretty quiet so in the wind I didn’t hear what was happening.

We had hooked something huge that moved slowly for the early part of the hookup, but toward the end it had begun moving out and it wasn’t stopping. It had stripped out way over 130 yards of 20-pound Trilene big game monofilament line. Felt like a BB gun against an elephant.

I have to admit that the possibility we were hooked onto something monstrous wasn’t in my thinking. I was confused by the wind and the position of the boat and that the line might be in the prop.

I was also confused because I could see on my GPS that I was going toward the snag, how could it still be pulling? I had tried to just hold the boat in position long enough to figure things out and not get too excited. I should have pivoted westward sooner.

Delayed intelligence and murky thinking led to a missed opportunity. I just wanted to see “it!” Dad and the boys had their story, too.

Buddies helped me form the suspicion that it was a big sturgeon that my lure snagged.

Never give up! Monsters do exist.