Fish Fight Left Trio Gasping

Most fish stories are about the big one that got away. But this story is about the big one that didn’t.

Not too long ago, three Carlin Bay sportsmen - Rion Rodricks, Bob Tjossem and Dave Wolfert - set out in Tjossem’s boat up the Coeur d’Alene River and the chain lakes to try their hands at angling for crappies. The humble fish tastes delectable when filleted, coated with corn meal and deep fried.

Equipped with suitable tackle - short, cheap rods, 4-pound test line and small lures - they began fishing. The first hours produced nary a bite.

Someone thought they ought to try Black Lake and the others agreed. Just offshore, in front of the Black Lake Resort, a fallen tree lay half submerged.

“That’s a good place for crappie,” Rodricks suggested. “Even if we get tangled up in the tree, we’ve got cheap tackle. No biggie.”

So they tossed their lines into the shadows under the tree. Within minutes all three lines were snagged - or so it seemed. Wolfert pulled his line loose, breaking it. As the boat drifted around on its anchor, Rodricks thought he would work at loosening his line a bit longer. Tjossem decided to jerk his tackle free.

He yanked. Rodricks described what followed:

“Whoosh, something took off with the line like a shot. The reel whines behind it.”

To demonstrate, Rodricks flung out his arm like former Mariners’ pitcher Randy Johnson on a really good day.

“We couldn’t see what was on the other end of the line, but it was big,” Rodricks continued. “Next thing, whoosh, the reel whines again and whatever it is turns around and makes a run back toward the boat and off the other end. Tjossem’s boat has high sides and a canopy. He’s scrambling, passing the line over the canvas.”

Rodricks demonstrated with a side-handed, fastball gesture. Rodricks said this activity went on for some time, back and forth. Minutes pass as Tjossem tries to preserve his tenuous hold on what must be a fish that is racing back and forth beneath the surface on just a 4-pound line.

By this time, Rodricks said, quite a crowd has assembled in front of the resort.

Some cheer on the fish, some root for Tjossem.

The entertainment gets better.

The fish makes another pass for the stern of the boat with Tjossem in hot pursuit, scrambling around and over the canvas.

“He’s getting tired,” Rodricks said.

“This had been going on for over half an hour.” It’s not clear whether he’s talking about Tjossem or the fish.

The fish next wraps the lightweight line around the stern drive and reveals itself - a really mad, really big, northern pike.

Rodricks continued.

“The pike makes another run, this time for the bow of the boat and entangles the line in the anchor chain. All this time that short, $19 pole is bent almost double,” he said.

“We had to land it now or never. But we had a problem - no net. There was one chance only to grab the pike between the eye sockets and stay out of the way of the teeth.”

Wolfert, who won the nod for the job, leaned over the side of the boat, grabbed the pike and hoisted the critter on board where Rodricks slipped a paddle between its wicked jaws.

“The teeth chomped down on the paddle and hung on,” Rodricks said.

“That fish was mad.”

And how much did this northern weigh? Sixteen pounds.

Did it end up on the dinner table?

No.

“I’m havin’ it stuffed and mounted,” Tjossem said. “I like to keep things like that - that have a story to go with them.”

As for the unlikelihood of catching a fish of that size on such light line, Tjossem said, “That pike’s time had come. That’s all.”

Jeri McCroskey, a free-lance writer and antique collector, lives with her husband at Carlin Bay. Panhandle Pieces is shared among several North Idaho writers.