Monsters from the Deep

Mequinenza, Spain is arguably the Wels Catfish capital of the world. The tiny fishing hamlet sits on the River Segre about 2 hours due west of Barcelona. People from all over Europe come here in droves to catch giant catfish. The record, taken just a few months ago, was a whopping 250lbs. Some of the fish we saw and caught were well over 7 feet in length. The river is teeming with big carp, walleye and other fish creating a constant food source for the Wels catfish. Additionally, all the fishing here is catch and release (catfish apparently isn’t good to eat, but it also keeps people coming back for more) so the fish keep getting bigger and bigger. Also, since nothing can eat or kill the Wels (except maybe a Wels) they multiply and grow. They are monsters.

Most of the shops in town are run by catfish-loving Bavarians. A German fisherman released the Wels here 35 years ago because he thought there were too many carp. The carp were released in the ‘20s to combat malaria-infested mosquitoes – a microcosm of man interfering with nature’s business. Now, the entire river is filled with invasive species and they’ve overwhelmed the ecosystem.

Our 5-man team (host, producer, camera, sound and me) spent hours along hot, dusty riverbanks waiting, camera-ready, for rods to bend, then buckle under the weight of a 100+ pound fish. We went on, late into the evening, sometimes until midnight. Fishermen sit in these spots for hours! A duo from London we met were fishing 24-7 for a week, sleeping under green tarps in dirty sleeping bags. “We love it”, they proudly stated through their gapped teeth. We spent a fair bit of time bombing through rivers and reservoirs on boats and hours breaking our rental cars down backcountry roads that zigzagged through fruit orchards.

The town has only one real restaurant and it reminded me a poor man’s Ric’s Café American in the sense that there were people here from all over Europe; Austrians, Czechs, Brits, Frenchmen, Irish, mob bosses from Poland and oil-rich tycoons from oil-rich Russia. I dined here every night while slamming down mugs of Estrella and tearing up in the nicotine filled air. The Ukrainian waitress would say “please” everytime she handed me a new beer. The food was sub-par, but at the end of the day it was at least hot. I wandered around town talking my way through broken Spanish and even more broken German. I was pleasantly surprised how well I was easy to communicate (Diego, CC, JARRIN et al would be proud)

It was certainly a fun adventure albeit tough going at time especially given the long hours each day. Of course, as I stated previously, I dearly missed my daily run and am glad to be back in a normal schedule…at least until I head to Berlin in one month.