So...Rob Garber and I are out fishing on the upper Delta resevoir. Waves were slapping the boat as we took it to the northwest side of the lake running into a southwesterly wind. The sky was mostly cloudy, but there was a glowing hint in the western sky that the sun might peek out at any moment from behind the clouds. There was a slight damp chill in the air that I surmised could trigger one of my infamous asthma attacks. This was a day made for fishing! 
 
After a solid hour of myself not catching any fish (although Rob was catching some small rock bass), I turned to him and said, "There aren't any fish in here." I was getting frustrated. In a last ditch effort, I thought to myself, "What would my father-in-law do?" Now my father-in-law could easily be a contender on the Bass Pro tour if he wanted to, so it was natural for me to ask that question. 
 
I decided that since we were fishing in a resevoir that has portions of it that are as deep as 60 feet, he would probably try a "deep diving crank bait." I put the lure on the swivel and launched it toward the darkening southern sky. After nearly a half dozen casts I was beginning to lose my patience once again. Suddenly, something happened that changed the quality of my fish stories forever.  
 
On the sixth cast, I was reeling in the line when all of a sudden my pole acted like a divining rod pointing toward a hidden water source. FISH ON! I set the hook and was very suprised to hear my drag sing out, "ZZZZZZZZZZZZIIIIIIIIIIIING!." This fish was yanking yard after yard of line out of my reel. I tried to tighten up the drag a bit, but I realized that I wasn't dealing with any bass or crappie. This wasn't a fish, this was a MONSTER! 
 
For 25 minutes our small boat was pulled around the upper resevoir by something that wouldn't allow himself to be seen. There were a number of times that the beast pulled out so much line that I had to engage the trolling motor and chase the fish in an attempt to get line back onto my reel. 
 
At one point, it felt as if I was hung up on a bunch of rocks at the bottom of the lake. Nothing I did could coax any more line onto the spool. At long last the fish went on the move again, and headed up under the pressure from my aching arms gently, yet firmly pulling up on the rod tip.  
 
We saw it at last! A brief glimpse of huge golden scales and a rather large dorsal fin finally confirmed that I hadn't hooked a walleye, bass, pike or crappie. I had hooked into a gigantic grass carp that ended up measuring an easy 3 feet, and probably over 25 pounds!  
 
I refused to put my hands anywhere near that thing. Rob laughed and tried to get it into the boat. He was barely able to lift it out of the water. Finally he got the fish up onto the side of the boat, and after quite a bit of difficulty (imagine trying to control a 3 foot fish on the side of a 9 foot boat), removed the lure from its mouth. I have NEVER heard of anyone catching a carp with a lure, but that is exactly what happened. 
 
I was confronted with the decision that every fisherman (fisherperson?) dreams of, yet this fisherman dreads: Do I keep this thing and get it mounted, or let it go. I asked Rob to let it go. The monster carp slipped quietly from his hands into the cold, clear water and swam away. 
 
What would you have done? Would you have kept the fish and put it on your wall like a trophy, or be satisfied with experiencing the fish fight of a lifetime? 
 
Hands down, this was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. 
 
CH