My client for the day, Evan Hoover, made a short cast into the deep, rock-infested pool where a major tributary joined the Allegheny River. Two factors were to Evan’s advantage. One, he has a history of connecting with big smallmouth bass at this spot, and two, it’s a great place to fish one of his favorite presentations, the Ned Rig.

For those unfamiliar, the Ned Rig is basically a 2 1/2-3 inch straight worm, such as Z-Man Fishing’s Finesse TRD, fished on a light jighead. In the bass fishing world it exemplifies a finesse, do-nothing presentation.

Evan hadn’t worked the rig more than a few feet when, responding to the tap that transmitted a bite, he made a sharp hookset. The light seven foot spinning rod loaded up into a deep bend, the ensuing next few seconds showing evidence of a strong, heavy fish.

Initially we thought it was a big smallmouth, in that we’ve taken several 20-inch bass from the spot. But as the fight progressed it became obvious it wasn’t a brown bass.

Next came a progression of speculation of which I’ve been blessed to have been a part of many times over the years. Is it a musky? Maybe a big freshwater drum, perhaps even a huge walleye? The tension grew as Evan methodically worked the spirited fish toward the boat.

Eventually the leader knot appeared, meaning the fish was within three feet of the surface. Its body became visible in clear water. While I held the net at the ready we made the identification at the same time, exclaiming “catfish” as the whiskered battler came within range and was scooped up in the net.

It was a thrill, not a disappointment for Evan, who had grown up fishing for cats with his grandfather in the Venango County section of the Allegheny. At 28 inches, the heavy channel cat was his personal best.

This got me thinking of the mystery component of fishing. Had he lost the fish, Evan and I would have replayed the scenario many times, theorizing about what behemoth was on the end of his line. I’ve been in on many of those experiences as well, big fish that were lost, their ID unknown. The emptiness comes, for me at least, not so much as having not landed the fish, but in not knowing what it was.

Today’s angler has many tools at his or her disposal that unlock the mysterious subsurface world. Electronic mapping is available that shows lake features in scary detail, with programs available for not only chartplotter units but smartphones as well. The same goes for sonar imaging that scans not only under the boat but to the sides as well.

And then there’s forward facing sonar such as Garmin’s Livescope, Humminbird’s Mega Live, and Lowrance’s Active Target. Unlike conventional sonar that shows a history of what the boat is passing over, FFS is real time, enabling an angler that is adept at interpreting the screen to target specific fish, even following the lure’s movement and observing the fish’s reaction.

For me that’s a bit much, removing too much of the mystery. Recently I watched a YouTube video in which the host demonstrated how to watch the FFS screen to see when a crappie inhaled the lure from below, a scenario in which the angler might not feel the bite. The lesson was on how and when to set the hook simply by watching the fish’s interaction on the screen, timing things correctly to make a catch that might have otherwise gone undetected.

Admittedly I didn’t grow up in the world of video games, and I certainly make use of less precise electronic aids, but if I don’t catch a fish because I didn’t see it eat the bait on a screen, well, I’m okay with that.

Jeff Knapp is an outdoors columnist for the Butler Eagle.