Woke up Satuday morning at 6:00AM and made my way into the high country for some fishing.  After sliding down a sandy bank and dragging my Crawdad boat up several sets of rapids, I finally wound up in some fishy water I scouted this spring.
After a couple hours of slinging 10" flies, I started to wonder if all the effort was worth it in my pursuit of these elusive phantom fish of 10,000 casts.
Then it happened!
I stripped the bright orange articulated fly (my attempt at a Brad Bohen Hangtime) over a deep  log filled pool, and out of the depths a beautiful 40+ inch musky scarfed the fly.
I reared back in a Bill Dance Hookset, and the battle began!
"Oh my God!"  I repeated several times.
I clumsily cleared all the line and engaged the reel as the fish raced in a 30 yard run.
Then began a 1.5 minute chaotic tug of war as the fish stayed deep head shaking a lunging.
In the back of my mind was the thought, "DAMN! I never strip set!", But my arms just seemed unable to reset the hook as I kept the rod bent on the fish.
Then, as fast as it began, it all ended when the tension eased and the fly came swimming up out of the stained water.
The scenery was gorgeous and the solitude was peaceful.  Here's the scene just after I lost the fish.
Upstream View:

Downstream View:

The pursuit continues and the Fever Grows!