Slowly then, but with implacable power, the fish swam upstream to a position directly opposite me. There it held deep, while the butt of the rod bent into the cork. Minutes passed, stretched. When my arms grew so tired that I began to shift the strain from one to the other, the steelhead, perhaps feeling the change in pressure, rushed downriver and jumped at the lip of the pool. It bulked against the sky, its body twisting on several planes before crashing back to the surface. The sight of it was so shocking that I involuntarily called for help, although there might not have been another person within a mile.