Back in 2006, Gail posted this story on the Our Echo website:
Since we retired from money-making jobs a few years ago, we have enjoyed fishing in eastern Kansas lakes. Several years ago we were fishing in a small city lake where the fish were fed with floating fish food. As the fish food went floating by I suddenly had a terrific bite. The line was being pulled off my 404 Zebco reel faster than I could handle.
Finally, the fish began to respond to my efforts to reel him in, but in the meantime, he was all over that body of water. My folding lawn chair fell over as I tried to stand up. I stumbled over the tackle box. Thus scattering hooks and sinkers all around as the fish maneuvered me from one side of the dock to the other. In the process, it was tangling up my line with the other three that my husband and I had in the water.
One by one my husband untangled the lines and got them out of my way. Still, this monster of the deep was dragging off more line than I was reeling in. During all this commotion my fishing partner was issuing instruction by the mouthful. I knew one or two things was going to happen. The fish would break the line and I’d lose the fish or the fish would pull me into the lake.
Time after time the fish would begin to tire allowing me to bring him closer to shore. Then, in a new burst of energy, away across the lake he’d go. After hours (later I found out it was only 30 minutes) of grueling strain, I finally had the fish close enough for us to see how big he really was. The Oracle of fishing commands grabbed the fish net to be ready to assist in the final landing, only to realize this net wouldn’t even hold the fish’s tail.
But God was good. The giant grass carp became so tired I was able to drag him ashore as my amazed spouse gave a boost to the tail section with our woefully small net. Definitely, a fish to tell ‘tall tales’ about and be truthful. He was as long as a yardstick and weighed thirty pounds. Tasted good too.