Few have actually claimed to see this fish, but true believers in the power of The Big One swear that those who have seen it are now dead, blind or at the bottom of Lake Mille Lacs. In the world of fishing, a fish need not even be to be perceived. Even though the most ardent fishing enthusiast will never admit it, the fish that got away might have been just a tiny creature, hardly worth the effort of any weekend warrior. It might have jumped out of the water, mouth opened wide, bitten my neck, and swum away, dragging my half drunk bottle of beer. Faith, reason, and the perceived reality of at least one fisherman dictate no other interpretation.
Nature wins more often than the fisherman.
The only way of dealing with his defeat is for the fisherman is to recount a battle, real or imagined, with those mighty, flesh eating, boat devouring beasts of our state's unconquered lakes. Even though Nietzsche didn't have anything to say about fishing, I think he would embrace its aesthetic qualities. Where else, but on a boat, far away from all artificial, institutional constructions of truth, can one shrug off all absolutes and come to a greater, more meaningful understanding of the world. Not only is fishing a way to realize our insignificance in the grand scheme of things, but it is also an empowering, nihilistic realization that unless we create our own truths, no one will do it for us. Fishermen of the world, cast away the guffaws and suspicious looks you will receive after this weekend.