A Raritan River Fish Story

[Lard Almighty]

Seeing that conditions were favorable for some bigger fish to be running up the Raritan, I made the hour-long drive to the fish ladder. I came armed with my medium-heavy bass rod, knowing that my normal finesse spinning outfit was not up to the tasks I had in mind for the day. I tied on a chartreuse and white chatterbait with a swimbait trailer, and began casting into the murky, rushing water.

After about 20 minutes, my bait stopped dead mid-river. I tried to pop it loose from what I was certain was a snag. Certain, that is, until the “snag” started to move. Fish on! I came tight to what felt like an average-sized fish, maybe a smallmouth or largemouth. Then, the fish began to pull harder, and I thought I may have enticed a big walleye. Then the fish pulled harder still, and I thought I may have hooked a giant striper. Then my rod began to bend nearly at the grip, and my imagination really started to go wild, wondering what could possibly be testing my tackle. However, even my imagination was no match for the reality of what I saw come to the surface: a massive, monstrous MUSKY!

It was far bigger than any musky I had ever seen caught from the river. I have no way of knowing just how big this fish was, but based on other muskies I have seen, there was no way it wasn’t bigger than 40 inches. If you were to measure it based on my trembling arms, shaking knees, and dazed expression, it might as well have been ten feet long. It had a massive, alligator-like head, and its body seemed as thick around as a telephone pole. As I watched it break the surface, this beast that embodied the pounding torrent of the falls just upriver, my first instinct was one of pure dread.

Two problems became immediately apparent when I realized what I had hooked. The 12-pound test spooled on my baitcasting reel was no match for such a creature, who could part it as easily as a man waving a spider’s web from his path. Second, I saw my chatterbait planted in its back; far away from the gnashing fangs that could effortlessly shear the line, but making it impossible for me to turn the fish and even attempt to control the fight. For about ten seconds, the fish swam away, retreating farther out into the river, not even acknowledging the reel drag as it did whatever it damn well pleased, with me powerless to stop it.

Then, mercifully, the hook pulled free.

As some of you know, I usually record my fishing trips with a video camera. Well, in this particular instance, the camera was off, and tucked in my coat pocket. The other fishermen there didn’t get nearly as good a look at the fish as I did. So, with no evidence but my word, you are free to disbelieve my story. However, do so at your own peril. For all who dare to ply the waters of the Raritan, be forewarned: dragons are not a myth. They are real. And they make their home in the murky depths of the Raritan River.