So after all the chaos and contempt, Steve scored a legit flag shortly after one of my surrounding traps (yes, I had three traps surrounding his one lone long bomb). The spool was turning, then an abrupt pause would occur. To be honest, this is how chain pickerel typically handle a bait and I knew exactly what Steve was planning. Upon each run, Steve would smirk knowing that his opportunity to strike first neared completion. His discription to fuel my anguish was, "let him eat that bait to his ass, then I'll hook that potty mouth". Not completely understanding his fishing quote of lore, I nodded in agreement as I attempted to videotape the catch on my cellphone.
Then the hook was set and the Hammer began to draw in the next state record. He moaned and groaned while complaining of how terribly powerful this bemouth was. I couldn''t doubt his experience, after all three years ago he hauled a 17 pound northern of off North Pond which lays claim to the current state record. After a few seconds of drawing line, a northern emerged from the shallow depths and pushed out of the ten inch hole in the ice. In an attempt to explain his drawn out battle to the end, Steve mumbled something to the extent of "that was a great fight for a smaller pike"... I didn't care, the only thing on my mind was that the man who had just driven hours to go ice fishing was offically down one.
Upon the catch of Steve
The wind shifted a tad to the north and the sun continued its voyage westward while we discussed our plans for the remainder of daylight and for the next morning.