RONNIE CRAWFORD IS A REGULAR VISITOR TO THE WATERS OF THE SOUTH PLATTE RIVER. While many of his previous adventures have brought pan-size catch into his net, one August afternoon Crawford fought an epic battle with a channel cat that would make any angler proud.

I got off of the river about an hour ago. Oh, what a morning! I hit the river, near my house, at 6:45 this morning. I usually carry two rods, a 9-foot fly rod and a lightweight 7-1/2-foot spinning rod. I started at my favorite stretch, just downstream of the Florida Ave. bridge. The morning is cool and pleasant, with a little moss in the water, and the sound of traffic, as the workers are going to their jobs.

I can see the smallmouth hitting on the surface, so I tie on a dry fly. Not a hit, nothing. I tie on a carp fly and immediately catch a 12-inch smallmouth. I target a couple of carp, but they’re not having any part of it. The fly is accumulating too much moss, so I pick up my spinning rod. For those of you who don’t know how I fish, I use long, lightweight rods, 6-pound test line, and crimp all barbs shut. I try to give the fish as much of a chance to get away as I can.

I landed several more bass, between 8 and 12 inches, on my favorite spinner. The Denver South Platte is a smallmouth stream; of note here is, two of the bass were largemouth! I worked the stream for a hundred feet or so and decided it was time to try the fly rod again. I had a nice carp on for a second, maybe a second. Then nothing for about 20 minutes. So I packed it up and went home for another cup of coffee – and plan B. I retrieved plan B from the refrigerator: my trusty night crawlers.

I hit the river at a different spot. This time, I’m just below the bicycle bridge, near Overland Pond Park. It’s a real nice hole, about 6-7 feet deep. First cast, another 12-inch smallmouth, then a 10-inch largemouth, all on the carp fly. Several more bass on my spinner. It’s all too crazy. I fish the Denver South Platte, four or five times a week, and never anything like this. By now, I’m getting a little complacent and I’m longing for the tug and run of a really big fish. I wade across the river and go downstream about 150 feet to my favorite carp water. I throw my fly at the carp, but too much moss.

So, by now I’m ready for the fight of my life. Bring it on. I put a night crawler and a small split shot on my fly line. I let it drift in the current, and it bounces along the bottom. Zing, my reel is ablaze, screaming. He took me out well into my backing. I probably only had 20-30 feet of backing left on my reel. I nervously kept checking my reel, and I could see bottom! After about 20 minutes, I land this big carp, 32 inches. I carry a tape measure and measure all of my big fish.

He had run me downstream about 150 feet or so, he was a traveler. This was an ordeal. My hand went to sleep and my arm was tired. I was tired. I walked back upstream to where I was when the big one hit. I thought about going home, but you all know what a mental task it is to walk away from the water.

I put on another night crawler and did the drift another couple of times. Cleaning off the moss, I thought, I’ll throw a few more times and see what happens. So that little worm is bouncing along the bottom, and BOOM. I mean BOOM. I set the hook and the fight was on. I could see him out there. It was huge, bigger than the last one, and he was swimming upstream, how weird. So then, he changed direction and headed downstream. I have never had my reel scream like that. I was into the backing again. Up until today, I had never had a fish take me into my backing this much. I’m looking at my reel and seeing bottom again! Holy crap! What the heck is going on? I fight him for 20-25 minutes and he’s still not ready to give up yet. And I thought I was tired before!! It was a tussle of epic proportions. Damn my arm is tired. My hand is falling asleep again. Crap. I got him within 100 feet of me a couple of times, a hundred feet, not close at all, and he runs me well into the backing again and again.

Well, a funny thing happened fishing today. He’s got me into the backing again. There was probably 40 feet of backing out, when – CRACK – a sound that I’ve never heard before. I thought my rod had broken. Never heard that sound before. My rod relaxed. My next thought was that my line had finally given out. I looked out into the water, 30 feet downstream, and my fly line is floating away from me. The backing had separated from the fly line. The knot had given way. So, with fly rod in hand I run to get my line.

I’ve never run that fast in water in my life. I reached the line and pulled in the slack. I think when the pressure released from my line that fish felt free, because he didn’t try to make a run for it. I pulled in the slack and could feel the fish was still on. Now what the heck do I do? No rod and I’ve got a monster on. I wrapped the line around my left hand several times to secure it, and with my right hand, I slowly coaxed the big guy in, while letting the slack float downstream in front of me.                This is all so surreal. He made a couple more runs. I knew that without a rod and holding the fly line in my hands, that there wasn’t much chance of me getting a good look at this fish. I just had to know how big he was, at least. After another five minutes or so, he was tiring, and so was I. I got him into my view, and it was a monster channel cat. I’ve never caught a channel cat in the South Platte, just seen pictures. I had him 10 feet or so from me and I got my net ready. This takes three hands. This thing was 8-10 inches wide at the head and 32-34 inches long. My heart’s about to jump out of my body, but I’m trying to maintain. Now I’ve got him four feet straight in front of me. We’re lookin’ at each other, eye to eye. Remember, no rod. By now he’s so close that I’m holding him, with my leader, a 2X. I slip the net under him, I’ve got him. He makes one last thrash. He’s on the rim of the net. Leader in one hand, net in the other, can you picture this? He’s momentarily straddling the rim of the net and damn, it’s a 50-50. He falls off of the rim, and swims away slowly, very slowly.

I don’t know how to figure his size, 30 pounds. Maybe you catfish guys can give me some insight. As he swam away, I gave him a strong salute and thanked him for the battle. I salute all of my big fish. I figure they have earned it ... And the beat goes on!               

Cheers, Ronnie