I've come to the conclusion in my advancing years that it's not necessarily the biggest or the most fish. I guess it's those same advancing years that make this trip memorable because I can still remember it clearly! Thanks for the opportunity to write it down before it just blurs into the past trips of yesteryear......... It was this last May, my 61st. birthday. It was the first time chasing Salmon in over 5 years with no shows for a couple years and closures. Also good to fish with my buddy again after a couple years of falling out of sorts. It was especially sweet for me because 2011 found my calendar with 41 days I spent in the hospital, clinics or various Dr. offices. That was vs. a whopping 2 days on my boats. One was a whale hunt, the other was basically a trip to just run the motors and I threw the iron a couple times just for shits and giggles for 2 mackerel, my years total for 2011 (and one grey whale sighted for the wife). We had a good trip so far that day this May. We had 3 nice grade salmon on the boat and needed the go home devil fish because it was blowing 20, white caps and getting to be a bitch to keep the gear straight. All three fish came on the same flasher/hootchie rig so I changed over to another same kind and almost instantly had a drive by. Set it back out there thinking we might have to pull the plug on this trip if the wind picked up any stronger. Then BINGO we're on! All three of the previous fish were feeding on krill and hooked up high in the water column. Really hot, line burnin' fish. But, this fish was something different than any salmon I have ever seen. It acted like a f'n wahoo. It was all over the surface. No jumps like a salmon or dorado, but it was lighting up the surface. It was throwing the flasher around, making these rooster tails as it changed 180 degree directions and was one seriously pissed off salmon. I'll bet a dozen times it was greyhounding, thrashing right on the surface. I asked my buddy, "Did you see that!?" He was trying to keep the boat straight after bringing up the riggers and he didn't see it at first, but after looking the direction I was.........the fish somersaulted again with the flasher and hootchie flying. "Holy Shit," he muttered. I think we were both wondering how long that barbless hook was going to hold. I was waiting for the line to start peeling.......but the fish was just laying there, sideways in the wind/current. Then I realized what was happening. "Fuck.....it's fouled!" Even through the white caps I could see the color of the fish still right on the surface a good 50 yards out. It was a Mexican standoff. I couldn't pull any harder without breaking it off. The fish was just laying in the wind, the line slowly coming off the reel. "We're gonna chase it down!", I yelled as I throttled up the kicker and pointed where to steer from the helm. I never could have caught this fish alone. It took both of us and we both had to have our shit together. We had one chance, no doubt. We circled up on the fish as I gained line back on the reel. As we got close...."Do you still see it?" No, solid white caps........but I still saw the color spot. "Get ready"......as I cut back on the throttle. Paul sees the fish right then and get's the net in the water just as the fish sees the boat alongside. I could see the red hook just above the anal fin as the fish turned and dove.........literally right into the net. It almost tore the net out of Paul's hands, but he hoisted it over the rail. We both looked in disbelief as the hook was just laying there next to the fish on the deck. We looked at each other and knowingly smiled and hightailed it out of there. All our trips are the best to come.