I like particularly this fish. The fishing is in itself a real adventure because, to make a success of her, it is necessary directly to go to pursue the animal on his posts of hunting, very often in very few water, level with cliffs and beaches. It is good to clarify that the custom of a sounder is quickly advised, especially when the swell shows itself.

16 hours, Franck, Fabien, Natacha and myself prepare minutely the material, namely: 4 sticks armed with three " Rapala " of 9 cms and 10 cms and of " Raphiloup " (fish - rower of personal manufacture) of 13 cms, which is intended for me.

16. 30, equipment, cap in the wide; the crossed passes, implemented with the dragnet some minutes only after the beginning of the fishing, a reel begins singing: " Oh! That I like this sound " as the others prefer that of the corn in the heart of wood. " Not credible, I exclaimed, it is Raphiloup! "

The stick well in hand, I shoe the fish. I am someone of it, I have to make for a wolf: the whims, very recognizable are significant. I cajole him as good as possible, I try to get back him by an august and serene operation but it falls down. It is not for this time!

The dragnet continues and posts susceptible to shelter the carnivore are investigated alternately. One hour passes, always no touch; anxiety gains us; the coast becomes sad, our faces also. Then suddenly, a reel gives alert: " everybody on the bridge, in military posts " I shout! " It is still Raphiloup, royal! "

I remove the stick of its support and an ample and rested gesture, I shoe the fish. " Fast! It is necessary to remove the other sticks ", Franck takes care of it. I feel the fish in defence, it is powerful and works everything in sharpness; several times, it cuts the effort, then it starts again of more beautiful, packing literally the reel, setting in the passage about twenty metres of thread. It fights wildly: it is not any more a wolf, it is Moby Dick!

My heart puts into gear the superior speed, the blood streams to my temples, hope gains me... " Which beautiful detail, I say myself, at least 4 kg " hard fight... But my opponent remains always invisible. I scrutinize the sea without result, I try to guess the thoughts of the wolf in question.

Reality resumes its rights: the carnivore cuts its effort, rushes to the boat, obliging me, by this action, to resume as quickly as possible the lung of the banner. " Small sly ", I say myself, by squeezing even more hardly my stick. Fight continues until its final goal; in a splendid effort, the wolf frees its aggressiveness and takes advantage of this brightness to resume 30 metres the furrow bends over the effort, the settled well brake, cancels this operation fight is been incensed, but weapons begin to keep silent. The fish, tired, appears in surface, dorsal fin to opened sky. Fast estimation of the weight: between 4 and 5 kg; " the most beautiful grip of wolf ever realized since my first cork ".

My pleasure is intense madness of a moment of grace, dream practically realized in the empty conquest of the impossible... I, Philippe, son of Bernard, small son of Pierre, I have just made a success of the supernatural fishing, far from the lake of Tibériade... Emotion is in its paroxysm! I am not any more the captain Achab, Moby Dick is there, in some metres of the gunwhale, offering in the declining day, the sparkling of the silvery scales. Franck, fillet in hand, hard glance, fixed to the offered prey, is ready the children, the opened eyes contemplate the finally mastered fish, tightening its short breath towards the boat. The landing net is there, fixes, tightened, saving. Still some drives and... " Ô fume! Ô despair, ô in weapons citizens! " I did not understand anything; in a flash of lighting, the evening of glory is reduced to nothingness. Inconveniently, " Raphiloup ", unique object of my resentment hangs on in the stitches of the landing net and provokes, in its entirety, unhooking and liberation of my beautiful fish.

My dream collapses definitively; my fisherman's life (finally of young person) liquefies on the harshness of my disappointment a fraction of a second and I am not any more anything! My emotion is intense.

18. 20, straight ahead on the port, a return home, mooring at night fell sad lights of lampposts on streams grisaillants of November evening. Stammer, yes! But with in eyes the unspeakable happiness of the twisted, offered body, the king of fishes.

A morality! The truth is indeed needed for this temporary failure. At first, the surprising efficiency of " Raphiloup ", although their realization is very boring; a week is necessary for their manufacture.

Nevertheless, since I use them, I book besides two fishes fugitives, two wolves, mackerels, of severeau, deep, alose and deer - flying, sincere, authentic, with still the thread, floating between two waters.