matthoops3314 (US)

 In May 2005 I was playing basketball in my back yard when I tripped over the wall at the end of the court and broke my ankle in two places. My first thought was, "Well, there goes the rest of my summer". After two or three hospital visits (Man, you got to love going to the hospital-NOT!) the doctor revealed that I was destined to sit on my butt with a large, uncomfortable object made of plaster propped up in front of me until at least September. No swimming, hiking, no basketball, no this, no that, no nothing. However, after sorting through the endless list of no's I realizes that I never heard "no fishing". Since my Dad and I are usually tuned in to the same frequency, he started to pack up the fishing gear before I returned from my last hospital visit. He knew that nothing could relieve at least some of my stress better than a day on the river. So, the three of us (I've learned that once you get the girlfriend hooked on fishing, it's almost impossible to have an day to yourself on the water) headed out to try our luck. A 90-degree, high sun, no wind, humid day on the Monongahela river is about as close to hell as a bass fisherman can get. Nevertheless, a day on the water is a day on the water. We had been fishing for almost three hours by now and it was just starting to cool off. As we drifted around the side of a moored barge, I threw my Rapala Shad Rap right up against it. I reeled it down until I could feel the TICK, TICK of the lure banging of the rocks on the bottom. Then everything stopped. I was hung up on something for sure. I tugged on the 6-lb test line as hard as I could without breaking it off. I wouldn't budge. Suddenly, my line shot off to the right and that familiar sound of the drag screeching rang in my ears. Apparently, the snag that I had wasn't a snag at all, it was a fish. After 30 solid minutes of battling this fish, I still hadn't got a look at it. It definitely wasn't a bass, and my 6' medium-light rod made it feel like a 20' shark (which I'm pretty sure couldn't survive in the Mon). All eyes focused over the side of the boat, I could feel that I was gaining on the giant fish. It surfaced, and all three of our mouths dropped to the floor. It was a huge catfish. On a crankbait? It took both my Dad and I to bring the beast up out of the water. We tried to weigh it, but out digital scale topped out at 20 pounds. We tried to take it home and weigh it, but both ends of its body stuck out of the livewell when we put it in. The only thing we could do was snap some photos and let it go. Next time I go out bass fishing on the river, I won't leave home without a few extra items: a heavy rod and reel setup with at least 15-lb line, a large scale rated for 50 pounds, and a chum bag.