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Paul, Seb and I arrived before midnight of the opening night. We ended up fishing all night, most of the morning and the evening, powernapping at night in the car only to continue the marathon the next day. With that much excitement, one quickly forgets about being tired, cold and exhausted. You don't question energy levels or catch yourself wishing you were sippin the invigorating flavour of coffee. I remember being frustrated night fishing, with a long float rod, numerous split shots and fine leaders getting more tangles then cheap Canadian Tire fishing line.

Our guides and hands froze as we endured our quest for catching and releasing as many specimens as we could land. But all it takes are strong runs from the other side of the line to induce amnesia regarding the negatives and enforce joyfull emotions.

I was fishing a nice stretch of a famous river, and shared it with a newly acquianted fisherman from Ottawa with no success. He decided to pull a Columbus and explore different areas. I had upgraded from the tail to the head of the pool, hoping I would connect on my first long drift. I always wanted to experience the gratifying feeling of catching a fish on the first drift after it was thoroughly worked by another angler. This is the angling equivalence of a sucker punch, a swift kick in the ass. Staring at the float as if trying to drown it with supernatural powers, it goes down.

Instant hookset, immediate explosive action, propelled out of water with the energy equivalent of NASA space launch. The chase was on, as I'm screaming "trophy fish on!" over and over inside my head. The tug of war began, instead of heavy ropes I was using 4lb Drennan leader and a miniscule #12 Raven specialist hook. The horsepower of old school muscle car with infinite torque and g-force. With endless energy as if distributed through a direct high octane fuel injection mixed by a Twin Turbo with Nitrous pumping through its pink flesh and creating eddies and back currents with its worn out tail. With the acrobatic abilities of a gold medal Olympic diver, twisting and turning in the air, with expert precision and endless grace.

The run it exerted, was that of a 4th generation thoroughbred race horse. The jumps similar to Willy the killer whale, only more acrobatic and under heavy influence of crack. With Shumacker speeds it zoomed between pools making laps in record times. It tail walked on the waters surface with a smirk as if it was giving me the wink and the gun gesture. The float rod had more bend then a diving board under extremely obese individual, ready to snap and call it quits. In the words of Metallica "Nothing else matters" time stopped, nothing else existed. I was probably drooling, stuck out my tongue like Micheal Jordan dunking, forgot to breath or wink, maybe a cardiac arrest because of all this hopeful anticipation. It just wasn't worth thinking about, a priceless moment stuck in time. Worth selling yours and trading in any souls you possess.

Suddenly this water beast went more psycho. As if it crossed the leader thin line between selective genius and absolutely crazy. As if Zeus himself, struck lightning into the water that made the fish implode with energy.The headshakes similar to a young dog getting a collar for its first time persuaded to shake this evil contraption off. The pissed off power of a bull before a fight, under an ultra tight knot cutting off the circulation on its goods. With the pulling force of a stubborn mule, as if finding new meaning in life and overcoming depression. Stuck in a sticky situation of do or die, and thinking "No way Jose, not today!!". Almost as if it was chugging cases of RedBull energy drink, similar to the bouncing off the walls schoolboy effect after Halloween sugar gluttony. The genes this fish was blessed with was equal to royalty. Spoiled with great skill to avoid, outsmart and escape the enemy.

This was no ordinary fish, this one was possessed. And I was just and angler not an exorcist. Similar mentality of a trapped fox who would chew its own leg off, if it meant victory and avoid being captured. I had front row seats to what seemed a circus, a freakishly exciting display of power, agility and gorgeous looks. The shiny sparkle from the clear water, glistened so bright it made chrome rims seem dusty and dull in comparison.

I remembered that I have to land this beast, as I'm putting on my oversized white glove with my mouth and drenching it in cold water before contact. I was unhooking the munched upon roe bag, I noticed the crazy sparkle in its eyes. Upon further inspection, deep within the corner of its mouth resided a broken off roe bag with a leader still attached to the hook. This fish was well trained, it tasted the sweet stench of freedom when hooked before. It held nothing back, with every bit of kilo jules left in its body it fought a battle of feisty fishy epic proportions. With the stubborn persistence of a jehovah's witness on a bright and early saturday morning, it kept knocking on heaven's door. Trying hard to get a second chance to swim and spawn again. At that time, I was camera free and couldn't capture it physically. But the mental memory is encoded. I released this specimen as it slithers through my loose grip and fades into the dark green depths of a big pool.

Any creature that exerts energy for a fight like that, is worth its weight in white gold and should be rewarded with the gift of life and a chance to swim away, spawn and share this joyful excitement with some other lucky individual. Maybe all this time we're not hooking them, but they're getting us hooked. In the end I realized I was the one stung and hooked on Steelhead Opener till infinity.

Przemek "Wishin i Wuz Fishin" Zalinski