The great challenge

I’ve always felt an inexplicable attraction to the sea—maybe because of its vastness, maybe because of the veil of mystery that surrounds it...

I have faced it many times, sometimes winning, sometimes losing miserably, but every defeat has always pushed me to set bigger goals, to go beyond that thin line between dream and reality, to chase ever larger and more thrilling prey.

Since I was a child, through magazines and articles about sea fishing, I learned the names, characteristics, and behaviors of all the fish in “my” Adriatic. Every time I flipped through those pages, my attention always fell there, always on him… THE ALLETTERATO, the fish that, in my opinion, is the most fun and fascinating in the Adriatic. Recently, with the help of social media, I met a truly friendly gentleman who shares my passion for the sea and fishing and who helped me realize my dream of catching an alletterato by spinning from a boat… NICOLA.

THE DEPARTURE

The meeting with Nicola was set for 5 a.m. in an old little harbor… I couldn’t sleep that night, overwhelmed by the excitement of the thought of my first fight with an alletterato.

Nicola and his boat were there waiting for me, with only the creak of the ropes against the dock in the background.

We started loading everything needed for this boat adventure. One turn of the key and the silence was broken by the roar of the 150-horsepower Suzuki, which also seemed eager to leave the harbor.

The primary goal was one: to spot even a single seagull in flight that might lead us to a feeding frenzy, where we hoped to find alletterati hunting in a group.

The sun had yet to rise, and we were already heading offshore, eyes wide open, scanning for any sign that could indicate fish activity.

HEART RACING

It was a team effort… Nicola, the captain, steered, while my partner and I clung to the cabin, one on each side, like lizards, scrutinizing the horizon.

We covered very few miles, about four, when out of the corner of my eye I saw ripples on the flat sea in the distance… no doubt about it… they were there.

With all the voice I had, I shouted to the captain to turn sharply left—there’s a feeding frenzy!

The boat sped toward what from afar seemed like a few scattered fish but, as we got closer, revealed itself as a true banquet for the alletterati.

I couldn’t believe it… in front of me, a huge school of alletterati feasting on alacce.

I was petrified with emotion; the only movement came from the adrenaline pumping through my body, making my legs shake in front of such a spectacle.

I snapped back to reality and, in one swift motion, grabbed my partner in a thousand adventures, my trusty Airrus Bora, which this time I wanted to push to the limit against the alletterati.

With the rod between my teeth, I staggered to the bow to get a better view and better control of the fish in case of a strike… The boat glided slowly toward the chaos stirred up by the feeding fish… we were almost there… the only sound I could hear was my heart pounding… almost there… almost there… almost there…

EXPLOSION OF POWER

I opened the bail of my Twin Power and cast my lure as far as I could…

It landed precisely in the middle of the feeding frenzy… I was there… in the strike zone.

I closed the bail and started jerking with a cold precision, careful not to get distracted, waiting for the strike I had dreamed of for so long.

One, two, three jerks… four… five jerks.

Finally, after moments that seemed to stretch forever, the rod locked. I responded with three consecutive hooks that I will never forget…

Now the real fun began…

The fish responded immediately with a ferocity and power I had never experienced in all my years of fishing, neither in freshwater nor saltwater…

The Twin Power, even with the drag tightened, began to scream as the fish made its first run, which seemed endless…

THE ENDLESS FIGHT

After 20–30 seconds of frantic running, I managed to stop it. I realized it was huge… so huge… Every restart took 15–20 meters of line; it seemed tireless.

I didn’t want to force it. I was fishing very light—a 5000 reel and PE 1 braid—I couldn’t risk overexerting it.

I gained some line; it took just as much.

After a long series of tugs and releases, it finally seemed to tire and went into a “perpendicular” position to the boat, spinning on its axis… this was the moment to try to gain as much line as possible.

It didn’t give in… the little rascal seemed clever… every run, it seemed to aim straight for the propeller… one… two… three times… I was exhausted. It was exhausted, and drawing on our last reserves of energy, I began to pump it to bring it to the surface.

The exhausted fish surfaced, drained… I saw it there in front of me, trying with its last strength to regain freedom… but it was done.

My partner, with incredible speed and calm, leaned from the stern and grabbed it by the tail… it was done… it was done…

I lifted it in my arms—it was big, so big—a remarkable specimen that had pushed both me and my equipment to the limit.

My legs shook; I still couldn’t believe it. I was holding my spinning dream in my arms…

The emotion of this catch could be seen in all three of our eyes… For me, this is the essence of fishing: sharing a long-awaited catch with friends so moved that it feels as if each of us had fought the fish ourselves…

This article is dedicated to Nicola, our captain, who passed away in August during a trip to Egypt, doing what made him happiest… fishing.