Rio Segre Rendezvous

As the bright harvest moon climbed over the tallest hilltop across the Rio Segre, the electronic fish alarm attached to the rod stand made a tiny beep which riveted my attention.

Rio Segre Rendezvous

Hunting Giant Sea Monsters in the Shadow of a Spanish Castle

As the bright harvest moon climbed over the tallest hilltop across the Rio Segre, the electronic fish alarm attached to the rod stand made a tiny beep which riveted my attention.

Within two seconds, the beep grew into a frantic staccato and I vaulted off my comfortable camp chair like I was racing from a five-alarm fire. I lunged for the stout rod which was bent double and bucking like a wild Spanish bronco.

My new friends and fishing companions from England, Craig Pert and Bud Collie, were yelling at me in unison, “It’s a big one, mate, put the heat on her.”

It felt like I was attached via a braided line to a sea monster as it pulled relentlessly down river. The line was cascading off the reel at an alarming rate. Ashley Scott, our guide, got in my face and said kindly, yet firmly, “She doesn’t know she’s hooked, yet. Crank the star-drag down and get her attention.”

I did so obediently, and the lion-size catfish took off with even more fervor, threatening to drag me from the rocky bank into the dark waters. At the pace she was going, I could imagine myself heading downriver like some poor water-skier tangled up in his line behind a runaway motorboat.

The giant catfish and I battled for nearly half an hour in a tug-of-war which saw me gaining a few yards of line only for her to bull her way back toward the east. She decided to play difficult and headed for a series of bulrushes adjacent to the southern most position of our “swim,” which is British-speak for a section of water you are targeting.

The once-illuminating moon drifted behind a cloud and we were pretty much left in the dark. My partners had on LED headgear, and the lamp beams bounced all over the place as they scurried around getting the site ready for landing this leviathan. The scene was surreal, with the dancing beams cutting through the night like Luke Skywalker swinging his light-saber in a combat scene from Star Wars.

Finally, the giant cat got winded and turned her head toward shore; I breathed a sigh of relief as I cranked her the final 75 feet. As she approached the bank, wader-clad Ashley jumped into the river and grabbed the line. What I saw him hauling ashore set my heart racing. Slowly drawing close was a beast that was part fish and part anaconda with its thick, serpentine tail. No, this thing was more like a giant plesiosaur from the early Jurassic period. Actually, it could even be mistaken for the Loch Ness Monster.

We brought her carefully up on the bank for a few quick photos and then back she went into the Rio Segre no worse for wear. I still remember that giant bucket mouth and writhing tail. She weighed in at 84 pounds on the portable scale and measured five feet four inches long. It was my first wels catfish, one of the largest freshwater fish in all of Europe. I was psyched and ready for even more, though it was nearly midnight on this beautiful October evening.