The Rock - My Rock - The Second Part

OK, Back up on My Rock to finish off the secrets of the Rainbow trout in the picture with yours truly having a big smile in his face. The trout took my fly and when I attempted to set the hook I got very frustrated. I felt an awkwardness that is impossible for me to describe. Why? I imagine that y'all ask yourselves. A nice trout takes the fly and the guy holding the rod is moaning and feels like quitting??? What's wrong with him (that is me of course)? The answer is that I thought that the fly was stuck in a rock because there was no movement att all on the other end of my fishing gear. Just like a big rock in the other end of the leader. But, after a while, it started to come closer to MY ROCK. At that moment it all stood clear to me. At the end of my tackle, on the fly, with my rod like an arch ready to send away an arrow far, far from where I was standing, I had a very nice trout. I was surprised that it was coming closer although I put as much pressure on the trout as I dared. He came closer and closer by the inch. Suddenly I had him just below my feet standing on MY ROCK. Just in that moment I believe we had eyecontact. It's no question that the trout had seen me. I took off blazing like a greased lightning like 25 yards upstream in a single run. I knew that I could play him hard and that I had to do that if I wanted to see him again (more about that later on). The trout started zig zagging slowly towards me down the river. The line was sounding like a Stradivarius. Yes, it was the most beautiful concerto I've ever listened to. Better than “Quattro Stagioni” of Vivaldi played by Ann-Sophie Mutter on her Stradivarius. I was euphoric almost scared that the concerto would stop before it's crechendo and the trout would be gone with my fly. No, it couldn't happen. Not again! But yes, it had happened before. In the same place with his older brother, sister, cousin or whatever the relation was. Perhaps it was his Lady that had made a fool out of me earlier in the season. But that is another story. Inch by inch he came closer and closer until he saw me again and made a rush. But the power was not the same as before. After a few desperate tries to get away I finally got him close to MY ROCK. Since I didn't have a net climbing down from the rock, MY ROCK, was necessary. I was scared that the tippet would break and cause an anticlimax of this adventure. When wading in the water I could see that the trout was exhausted and so was I. The difference was that I was joyful and happy when I forced my thumb and forefinger into his mouth and taking a firm grip. His teeth were sharp and ripped my fingers bloody but I  didn't let go. I even remember taking my priest and as merciful as possible ending his life. At that moment I could see why I hadn't spooked him. He was blind on his right eye and I was fishing from the right side of him. Poor fellow! I couldn't help feeling sad at that moment. But yet still there I was, in the water, several yards from the river bank, with a nice trout in one hand and my rod in the other. Happy and forcing myself through the water to get to the river bank and enjoy the moment of knowing that we would have a nice trout feast at the anniversary of my wedding that was soon to come. That would make my family truly happy and I can assure you that it was a delicious trout prepared in a Swedish custom that I can't explain. Even though I feel inspired and have a beautiful crystal glass with some amber colored, wonderfully aromatic liquid still in it, I have to save the story about the trouts old relative for another time.

Have fun with tight lines or threads,

M.O.