Every fisherman has a story about the big one that got away- that giant old fish who managed to elude other fishers for years before landing on your line, only to snap it right before it is netted. This weekend, my husband joined the ranks of those who are able to tell the tale of the big one that got away- with a twist.
It all started innocently enough. The last day of the long weekend greeted us with gentle rays of sun, inviting enough to make us plan a trip that would allow our three year old to really catch some fish. The car packed up, we headed out to the secret waters that we knew must be teeming with unwitting candidates just waiting for the frying pan, and we smiled to each other across the front seat as we imagined how much fun it would be to watch our son land his first fish.
If only we knew.
We arrived to find others already casting, and although we weren’t excited to have to share the area, it was a good sign to see fish flopping in buckets and hear the squeals of excited fishers reeling their catches in. The rainbows were biting it seemed,and my surreptitious( ok, snoopy) examination of others areas revealed many pan sized rainbow trout- nothing spectacular, but nothing to sneeze at either. My husband baited his line, and that of our sons, and we selected what seemed to be a great spot on the bank, under a giant tree whose branches shaded a deep pool of cool, still water. This was THE spot, I knew, because I could see fish rising to the surface to eat the gnats skimming along the water.
Quietly, we waited. Jigging the line gently, I could feel some curious nibbles in the depths, but no takers. The bites were strong though, and I began to think there was a big old rainbow lurking along the bank. Calling to my husband, he brought his rod over and we fished close together. Our son, however - the reason why we were here in the first place -didn’t seem to find the waiting part so interesting, and decided to make his own fun with a toy car,and so this is how I came to be fishing with his rod, baby Rowan in the sling on my chest.
Looking over at my husband, I heard him say he was getting some nibbles when suddenly, the water began to boil as a fish grabbed his line and ran with it! “It must be a big one! ” he hollered, his rod bent over, and sure enough, a grand-daddy of a trout broke the surface and smacked the water with its tail ! As he brought it carefully into shore, it seemed to almost give up, accepting its fate forlornly. My husband eased it in carefully as to not lose it or snap the line.
As it rose from the water, everyone could see what a catch it truly was. Oooohs and aaaahhhs whispered all around and I must say, IT was magnificent. At least 20 inches long, and deeper than I have ever seen, this fat old rainbow had brilliant colours and spots sparkling down its length, and a perfectly unmarked body, and my husband had landed it. All the other fishermen were watching him with obvious envy, and, trying to help him, I leaned over to hook my fingers in its gills and remove the hook.
As my fingers touched his skin lightly, I swear to God, I saw one eye of the fish looking at me with a desperate, yet somehow evil, expression. Oh No, I thought, you better not, you damned fish, and sure enough, as I gained purchase on his body, he found one last reserve of strength, shook with all his might,and splash!!!! Back into the water!
He was gone. And I’m pretty sure I saw him look back and laugh as he swum away with a flick of his tail.
My husband, not so much.
As I turned around to get the hook out of my finger – a result of his escape- I saw my husbands face. The excitement. The disappointment. “I’m so sorry sweetie, I didn’t think he was going to get off!!” I told him, trying to make him feel better. I felt so bad, because that was the biggest trout I had ever touched in my entire life of fishing, and he had gotten away on my watch. He told me it was ok, he wasn’t reaally mad, but I knew he must be, just a little, somewhere deep inside.
We kept fishing various spots,and although everyone else seemed to be catching fish, neither of us were getting anything but nibbles. These fish were smart. We moved from location to location, but nothing. My husband, I’m sure, was thinking about the one that got away, and as we looked at each other across the water and smiled, somehow I knew we weren’t going to be going home anytime soon. Others were still pulling them out with regularity, and it only fuelled the fire. As one fisherman vacated a spot that I had seen him pull several out of, I walked around the bank to grab it.
I cast my line in, and BAM!! I landed it immediately.
I don’t know why this happens to me sometimes, but completely forgetting that I assisted in releasing his prize fish, I started jumping up and down and hollaring at my husband, “Babe, I got one, I got one !!!” Although he said congratulations and helped me get it off the hook( I still had the baby in the sling), his face was all scrunched up and he was shaking his head as he walked away . He went back to his spot across the bank.
He looked at me across the water.
I looked at him.
Our eyes narrowed at each other, our blood and adrenaline surged and mixed.
Fish, or die.
Game on.
It was clear that by me catching the first fish since ” the incident” , we were now in some kind of obscene competition, as often happens when you have two competitive people living together. We try and beat each other at everything. Cards, Sequence, who can cram the biggest piece of sushi in their mouth and not choke. We’re seriously nuts sometimes with our little contests, and now, here we were again, only this time it was fish or die.
He went back to his spot.
I stayed in mine.
I cast my line again, same spot. Nothing. Again. Nothing, but I felt a nibble and saw the silvery gleam of my prey deep below me. Again , and BAM!! Another fish on the shore. ” Babe, I got another one ! ” I yelled, and he just shook his head and narrowed his eyes at me. This time, I grabbed it, took the hook out and plopped it into my bucket with the other. I called my son over and told him Mommy caught two fish, and his eyes became as big a saucers. As he examined the 12 inchers in the bucket, he looked over at some people close by, and in a very proud manner( and loud enough, I think, for my husband to hear) : ” My mommy caught two fish! “
I just smiled.
My husband ? Not so much.
I probably should have stopped there, considering that I was the reason that my husband lost the biggest fish ever, and maybe I should have waited until he caught one, but I didn’t. He just pretended that it didn’t bother him so much, and I pretended I wasn’t as excited as I really was about getting these fish. Now I had to catch enough for dinner for all of us, so I cast the line in again, and then again. Bam!
Another rainbow, this one just under 13 inches. That made 3, all in about a 1/2 an hour. Truly feeling bad now, I looked over at my hubby.I almost didnt want to tell him, but I did. He just yelled ” Great Job!” and moved back over to the spot where he first landed the monster trout.
The next twenty minutes brought forth two more trout, bringing my total to five, all between 12 and thirteen inches - the perfect size for sauteeing in a pan with lemon and garlic butter.
Hubby? Zero. Zilch. Nada.
Although he didn’t manage to land that big one again, I suspect it tried to even the score by taking all his bait, because he did have countless bites. Now, although he jokingly claims I snakebit him, I’m starting to think perhaps I really did…
Whats the moral of this story?
Dont help your husband land a fish – no matter what - because if it gets away, you’ll never hear the end of it.
Ever…
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Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: cnw talk show idol, competition, fish stories, fishing, gaming, kids, Laila Yuile, love, marriage, relationships, sport, sportfishing
