Anietra Hamper measuring up size against a 7.5-foot-long
wels catfish caught in the River Ebro in Spain.
As Big As Me
Story and photos by Anietra Hamper
Do you ever ponder the genesis of a moment that changed the trajectory of your life?
It’s hard to imagine such a dramatic notion when it comes to fishing, but I am living proof of the power and inspiration that can come from one fish and the forever memory of catching it that is never far from thought.
This transitional moment happened for me while covered in mud and dense fish slime lying next to a 7.5-foot, 150-pound wels catfish on the bank of the River Ebro in Mequinenza, Spain. Though I had enjoyed fishing for many years before this, it was this exact moment that changed everything about how I pursued it.
A Childhood Fantasy
Some of my earliest memories as a child are from spending time outdoors and fishing at my grandparent’s cottage on Grand Lake Saint Marys in western Ohio. As grandpa taught me how to handle a rod, dig for my own bait, enjoy the outdoors and responsibly handle fish, I also became enamored by the many species that existed in a single lake and the opportunities to catch them. The bluegills and crappie were favorites, but I developed a special interest in the channel catfish. These fish fought differently than panfish, and even at a young age, the fight stirred up a giddy kind of pride and excitement that I still experience when catching catfish today.
I began to wonder how big catfish could get. My childish mind wandered off into a fantasy about what it might be like to catch a fish as big as me someday. If a channel catfish fought like that, what would it be like to take on something bigger than my physical size and weight? I couldn’t even begin to imagine, but I thought about it for decades.
The Wels Catfish
A news story flashed by many years later about a man who caught a world-record catfish. It was a wels catfish. I’d never heard of this fish, but the photo with the story resurrected my childhood fantasy, and I knew I had to pursue it.
The wels catfish is a popular sportfish found in rivers in western and southern Europe. It’s an awkwardly huge species resembling an oversized tadpole and can grow up to 9.5 feet and well over 300 pounds.
The chances of catching a wels catfish on the stretch of the Ebro through Mequinenza are better in the spring when they are more prevalent, but they are smaller. The big ones, over 100 pounds, migrate through in the fall, but they are more difficult to catch as they are fewer in numbers. I packed my bags to spend a week on the banks of the River Ebro in Spain to pursue this fish.
I was the only female sharing the rods and riverbank for a week with seven men I just met in a country I’d never been to while navigating a language I didn’t speak. I didn’t care. I was on a mission, and fate was on my side with the first fish hitting my rod on the first night.
The fish was powerful and had the advantage in deeper water with its serpent-like tail giving it momentum that I didn’t have to challenge it from the water’s edge. As the fish effortlessly began dragging me along the dirt of the riverbank towards the water, I quickly realized this was unlike any fish I’d ever caught.
Using my entire bodyweight to serve as a fulcrum fighting the fish, I provided enough resistance to slow my dragging feet against its immense power. A couple rotations here and a couple rotations there of my reel gave me leverage to tire it temporarily until the fish picked up steam again and headed back to deeper water, dragging me with it.
It was a ferocious battle of wits combined with excited laughter and tense anxiety wondering how this would all play out in the end. Though my focus in the moment was catching the fish, I would eventually realize that this is what it’s like to fight a fish bigger (and far stronger) than me. After a power struggle that felt as if it might never end, and the excited support of my fellow anglers, the fish slowed its fight as I got it to shallower water.
I saw bubbles first, then I saw its massive head just alongside the bank as we prepared to pull it out for measurements and a quick photo. My stomach felt like lead trying to process the enormity of this catfish. I’d never seen anything like it.
We secured the fish into a sling, while six men lifted it out of the water. In that moment I was elated, stunned, overwhelmed and in utter disbelief. What was unfolding before my eyes was a fantasy that had come to life.
This fish was one of four adult wels and a baby that I caught on the River Ebro that week. It’s the kind of experience that takes time to process when the adrenaline wears off. When it did, I was flooded with tears wishing my grandpa could see this moment and more importantly wishing that my grandpa could know the lifelong gift he gave to me when he taught me to fish. Fishing isn’t about the photos and the unforgettable moments like this one. It’s about the memories and the people that you share these moments with.
A Changed Trajectory
Something else happened to me when I caught the wels catfish. There was a life transformation. As a child who was fascinated by fish and the possibilities of the sizes they might grow, this experience ignited a passion to pursue every other fascinating species around the world that might also grow to sizes we cannot even imagine.
In the years since that night covered in the slime of that wels catfish, so many other fish larger than me have graced the end of my line. And each time, I resurrect that little girl choking on the excitement at the possibility of being face to face with species that impress with their fight and size.
No matter how many oversized fish I catch in my lifetime, there will always a special place in my memories for the wels catfish, the one that so profoundly ignited my passion.
(Anietra Hamper is a career television news anchor and investigative journalist turned award-winning outdoor writer specializing in fishing and outdoor adventure. Anietra travels the world fishing for catfish and other unique species in new destinations.)
