Well I had a few hours to kill after work so I decided to head down to the clack and try to pick up a steelie or two. My hopes were high and I was pretty confident I was leaving the river with some bloody chromers. An hour and a half in and i've got nothing to show for it, but I decided to give a few more half-hearted casts before moving to greener waters. On what I decided was my last cast my pole gets absolutely rocked, and the fight is on. For the first 2 minutes this fish hardly moved from it's spot. Every small pull I gave was met by several violent headshakes, then it would stop completely. This thing wasn't hardly even taking line, just plastering itself to the bottom. After a few minutes of him sitting on the bottom he began to slowly move up river, then stopped again. Then suddenly without warning this thing goes ballistic and launches himself out of the water and the real fight began. For the next couple minutes I inched him in slowly to the bank, til I finally got a glimpse of the beast. Right as I got him to within about 20 feet, I feel a couple of strang headshakes and total slack. Somehow he got the *%$#^#@ hook out and swam free. At that point I pretty much lost my mind. Poles were thrown, and many real, as well as made up curse words were said for the next few minutes. After a smoke break, and a mental self evaluation I re-tied on my spinner and wen't back to fishing. A few minutes in and bang, a real nice rock fish stole my favorite spinner, unfourtunatly i forgot to loosen my drag after breaking off. After a quick re-tie I hooked into a nice little summer, sadly a quick run and jump ripped the hook free. After all this, with my sanity in shambles, I ran home with my tail between my legs, to lick my wounds. But bealive me, I will have my vengeance soon.