Howdy Folks, I'd like to read your accounts about the one that "got away". No, not the storied ones - the real ones. Not the made up Moby Dick tales that get bigger with each telling around the campfire or while bellied up to a bar. You know those memorable occassions that just kind of haunt you ? You can't stop thinking about them, because they really did happen to you. You may not know truthfully how big it was, but, you do know it was a battle to remember either because of the fish's size, the fantastic fight, or the circumstances involved (like equipment failure or lines got tangled). Anyway, here's mine from last year. I was fishing by myself in a local lake the has channel catfish in it - channels are about the only catfish we have out here really. And, I had one medium rod set-up with a chunk of recently caught white bass for bait. And the other rod (we can only use 2 rods here) I was using to cast into the rocks for some more white bass. It was an ultra-light rod set up. I had a small 1/8 ounce jig on 6 pound test that I was bouncing off the rip rap rocks of the jetty that I was standing on. On one cast, I let the jig sink a little further down than I normally would in that spot because I had gotten distracted by what appeared to be some action on my other rod - the catfish set-up. However, when I took my attention off my cast to check it out, it was obvious to me, that the movement of that rod was only caused by the wind. It was a momentary distraction away from my casted jig. Just long enough to allow the jig to fall to the bottom of the lake into the rocks and get snagged. Or, so I thought. As I worked it a little to unsnag it, I remember thinking at that moment, that I only had one jig left in my tackle box and really wanted to recover the one that was snagged. Well, I gave a little slack and then a little jerk to free it up. My jig gave me a rather large jerk back and the drag on my spinning reel started to scream. I was so taken aback, that I almost lost my footing and followed the jig and fish out into the lake. I recovered my balance, and the reel was still screaming, and the line was headed out about as fast as physically possible. Although I was holding my rod up high, the tip was at more than a 90 degree angle. When the drag finally quieted down and stopped making noise, it felt like I was still snagged on the bottom. Inch by inch I tugged and pulled. It lasted for what seemed like an hour. About half way through the experience, some guy about 50 yards away, yelled to me that I should just give up and cut the line because I was obviously snagged on a log out in the lake and it would be better to just call it a loss and get back to fishing. He didn't hear the drag scream apparently or see my line cutting zig zags out to open water. I just ignored the peanut gallery and kept on keeping on. After an eternity of working my ultralight set-up back to the jetty where I was standing, I got a glimpse of a tail fin. It was a catfish and I was real happy. After the catfish's last ditch run and attempt to escape, I got it to edge of the rocks at my feet. I pulled it's head up and saw the monster. It's head looked like about the size of a football viewed from the side. My little jig looked like an ant on it's lip and was dwarfed by one of the cat's whiskers. When our eyes met, the fish gave me one last look, a quick shake of it's head, snapped the line, and was gone to the depths. It wasn't a world record nor even a state one I doubt. It wasn't the biggest one I've ever seen. And, I could even say it probably wasn't the largest catfish I've had on my line. But, on that day, on my ultralight set-up, after that epic battle, for me, it will most likely be one of the most memorable one's that got away. Because it really happend, and I myself, know it.