Dan yelled to get the fish out of the right channel if possible and the fish decided to go airborne. He performed a double twister and burst down the channel. All I could do was hold on and pray for a U-turn.

He must have read my mind as he turned violently and jumped into the air. Racing right at me, I reeled like mad, grateful that we had just bought Shimano reels with rapid retrieve. At the top of the "Y" in the river there was a boulder with white water spilling over the top and the line went dead. There was no movement, just a steady weight, and no response when I increased the pressure. I was sure that, as in the past, the wily fish had brushed me off and I was now attempting to reel in a rock.

Dan refused to give up so easily. He told me to keep the rod arced and I began taking up slack as he slowly edged the Willey drifter closer and closer to the rock. Mr. Steelhead was sulking right in front of the rock and blasted down the left channel with regained energy. Bouncing through the boulders, white water, and past the sink hole we flew. Me reeling and Dan maneuvering and the buck fighting for his life. At the end of the rapids, Dan reached forward and took the rod to adjust the drag. He stood mesmerized as the huge fish thrashed in figure eights before him in the clear blue water. He handed back the rod and said "Don't lose him!!!". "Right".

One more aerial and we began the slow process of bringing him toward the drifter and having him turn and turbo away. He rolled the eight pound test around him and then spun away several times. He was running out of tricks and we were both running out of energy. Time was in his favor. Dan always says the fish is in charge at all times, and he was. I was just holding on and hoping that for once, none of the zillions of things that could go wrong, would.

Dan had managed the boat into some calm water next to shore and had the net at the ready for our chance. I turned the fish and Dan timed it perfectly. After forty action packed, intense minutes, he lay in the bottom of the boat. All we could do was stare. He was magnificent. We thanked God for the gift. We raced back to town and a certified scale at the store and he weighed in at 22 pounds, all 38 and 1/2 inches of him. He had evidently just stopped to rest in the quiet water after a run up river from the ocean six miles away, because he had two sea lice on his back and one on his gill plate. We took him over to the Lunker Bait Shop where I hopped around like an idiot and Frank just smiled.

He was a fish of a lifetime and a dream come true, and we were on the phone in no time talking to Smitty about fish mounts.

Columnist Joan Carter co-owns, with her husband, Dan Carter's Guide Service.