I get a call from a friend one evening saying that he had an incredible day on the water catching large stripers and he invited me to join him and a couple of other guys on his boat to go back there in the morning. We set a time to meet and I gathered my gear together and hit the sack even though the thoughts of hooking 20-30lb stripers on my ten wt. kept me up most of the night. The next morning we head out and cruise the rocky shores of the Ogunquit/Wells area. The fish were there and they were a little moody. We picked up a few slot fish on grocery flies but not the monsters that he was bragging about the night before. We did see a couple of pods of very big fish but they didn’t seem to be interested in any of the flies I put out. We moved out away from the shore a little later and I decided to switch to a sinking line to get down around the rockpile that we were anchored up over. First cast and BANG! I’m hooked up to an underwater freight train that has my reel singing and my rod flexed to the breaking point. This fish never even slowed down. I watched my reel in disbelief as first my flyline disappeared, then my backing was half gone and still coming off at an alarming rate. My friend had pulled the anchor and we were trying to follow this fish but by now I had only 1/4 of my backing left and it was still flying off. Now I’m starting to panic. If this fish gets to the end of the backing will the knot hold? Will my shock leader pop? Will the hook bend? My mind is racing, my heart is pumping and my arms are burning as I watch the spindle start to show through the remaining few strands of backing and then…the last loop comes off. For a second, time stands still as I stare at the knot waiting for it to explode… but it doesn’t. It held! Well this fish is no dummy. With all my line out and the boat in pursuit, he turns around and heads back at us. Now I’m reeling like there is no tomorrow trying to get the slack out of the line before he can spit the fly and get away. I finally get the line tight again and it feels a little different. There is still a fish on but he’s not really fighting anymore. I reel in and expect to see a huge silvery shape rising, exhausted, from the green water. Well, to my surprise the fish on the end of the line turned out to be a 14 inch pollock!! What the??!!? The nearest we could figure is that when the line was slack, the striper must have spit the fly and as I was reeling in, the pollock took the fly as it was passing by.