Last evening my dear wife Molly went trouting after work. Fishing is always an adventure, but when Molly told me about hers I suggested that she share it with you.

Molly’s Fish Story

I’m all ready for an evening fish – alone. Stillwater Slim is busy in his shop. My attire won’t likely start any fashion trends – dark green chest waders that are too long on a 5 ft. frame – the red suspenders do just that – suspend. My hand-me-down vest fits like a sleeveless coat. My brown hat is almost a fit, a cross between a Tilly and a bucket. I also have Slim’s compact fishing net clipped to my vest, so I’m ready.

I arrive at the small sea-trout destination I picked for this evening. My fly of choice is a freshly tied beetle imitation, a dry fly tied by Slim dear. There isn’t much evidence of feeding trout yet, except for a bit of activity at the far corner of the pool. The water is high from a big rain and I must wade chest deep through a deep-water mud-hole to reach the submerged island in order to cast a fly over those trout.

The action begins quickly and I must use Slim’s net since I’m surrounded by water. Net in hand I reach for the trout and miss. This startles the trout and he jumps around like he’s full of popcorn – he’s to my left, then he’s at my right, three moves ahead of me and I’m not gaining. My fly line is around, over, under and behind, but somehow the fish is now twisting in the net. Reaching shore while explaining the process to the fish and myself was very challenging but I was lucky. I dispatch the trout and hide it in the grass, and then I’m beckoned by a gentle slurp on the water.

Tucking the net under my left arm, line unravelled and floating around, I work my way through the murky water. After two casts I forget about the net and as I glance down it slowly disappears. My first thought is to leave it and find it when the water recedes, but logic prevails. Using the reel end of my rod I gently tap the bottom until I can feel the net. I move my foot next to giving it an upward kick that makes it visible and within reach.

That achieved, fishing continues and soon I am back in the action. My second trip back to shore is no easier and this time my line has managed to coil itself onto a hanging tree branch. As I near land I feel weighted somehow. What’s wrong? Looking down I notice my vest pockets bulging with water, thanks to my retrieve of the sinking net. I empty the vest of water and out fall my car keys, several fly boxes and my fishing license. I bend over to do another retrieval, off comes my hat and the fish escapes the net. Everything is either afloat or submerged.

Luckily I save the trout and retrieve all the rest. Exhausted, I lean against the bank wondering whether I should give fishing another try or quit while I’m ahead. I decide to fish.

Making my way along the waterway I notice that my line seems to be snagged. I can’t find the source of the trouble until I tuck the beloved net under my arm. Then I realize that trout # 2 is still in the net with hook in place. I decide to quit.

Hugs, Molly

Please stay on the line …