A Fish Story

The best stories are the craziest ones.

A Fish Story

A couple years ago on a cool autumn night, I made myself known as a true diehard fisherwoman of the Landry family. I came to love fishing even more than I already did that night, something I never thought was possible. I made my own fish story.
My father told me once that a good fisherman never needs a net.

That particular autumn day was exceptionally beautiful. The sun was shining, which brought out the brilliance of the fiery fall leaves that covered the mountains. Despite the bright sunlight, there was a crisp breeze that churned the waters of Lake Champlain. Nevertheless I sat down on the dock fishing pole in hand and a bucket in the other. I was going to do a little bait fishing. As always, in this particular windy weather, the going was slow at first. Not a single bite for at least a half an hour, but still I had remained patiently waiting. The murkiness of the water didn't matter; the fish would be able to scent the blood from the cut up worm on my hook. They'd come soon enough. Of course I was right. The sunfish came in a school, and I caught one right after the other with an ease, and skill I had honed since they day I had learned to walk. Each one I tossed in the bucket. The rhythm of feeling the tug, pulling the line, sliding my hand down and around the fish so the fins wouldn't prick me, was the epitome of relaxation. I enjoyed every last second to the fullest, after all these little fish would serve as my lure to catch a monster.
My father once told me that with fishing it's not about quantity, it's about quality.

With a bucket full of bait (about six all mostly consisting of Pumpkin Seeds, and a couple Perch), I was satiated and thought that it was about time for lunch. The inception of the real story would transpire when the sun would start to set, and the golden fishing hour would begin. Seven o' clock is when my fish story started.
My father told me that on the river he used the Mohawk Set. Crouch real low and set the hook with all you got.

I prepared my night line in the fading light. I had a head lamp on and was dressed in pants and a thick sweater. My hair was damp from the shower I had recently taken. Thinking back now, I probably should have waited. I used my knife to cut into the gills of the palm sized sunfish in order to get the blood flowing. My night fishing pole was all set with a nine inch steel leader and a large catfish hook. The lake had since calmed down causing the water to look as still as reflecting glass. I had gotten a bit of blood on my fingers when I held the bait to hook the fish through the back , but I just wiped it off in a red smear on my pants. That night I had decided to set my line off of my uncles' dock. I made sure I was prepared too; I had my headlamp, snacks, a drink, and I even brought down a book to pass some of the time. The dock creaked and groaned beneath my feet, the water like glass, was broken by the fish I could see and hear feeding along the weed edge. With the sun setting behind the Vermont mountains, the sky was painted with pale pinks, yellows, and oranges like a strange yet beautiful fire. I stood at the end of the dock surveying the water before me for the ideal spot to cast. To my left there was a break in the weeds that created a small hole. An ideal place. I castes and with ease landed the money shot right in the hole. Setting my pole in the metal pipe at the end of the dock, I loosened up my drag so that whatever would take my bait could run freely, and I would hear the rapid clicking of my drag. I remember that night vividly. The color of the sky reflected on the lakes surface. The soft, yet brisk breeze. The sounds of crickets, birds, ducks and geese, and even in the distance a pack of coyotes. I remember sitting there and watching the sun go down behind the autumn colored mountains. Night closed in.
My father told me once that when I am night fishing I need to plant the hook two or three times as hard as I can because otherwise the fish will get away.

I had not been there fifteen minutes, after the sun went down, when I heard the distinct sound of my drag being ripped out with ferocity. My heart instantly began to race and I grinned broadly with excitement. I waited. Standing at the edge of the dock with my eyes glued to my pole. Watching as the tip bent forward further and further with each violent tug. Stop and run, stop and run. For ten minutes I waited just like I knew I had to, like my father always told me to. Long enough for the fish to turn the bait around and swallow head first. Hook and all. Time dragged on as I waited for what felt like hours. My hands trembled with anticipation, and I restlessly shifted my weight from foot to foot. Adrenaline already starting to course through my veins. Then, finally, after it had stopped for a while, I picked my pole up, and tightened the drag quickly. Carefully, gently, I pulled feeling which way the fish was fishing, ensuring that I would rip the hook right out of its mouth. When I felt that pull in the opposite direction it was like all the anticipation building to that moment, exploded. I planted that hook, setting it as hard as I could two, three times. Just like daddy told me to. The fire of exhilaration burned through my body as I fought what was on the other end of the line. I remember that powerful, heavy pull, like I was dragging a massive weight along the bottom. A slow and heavy pull, that was all it was. In that moment I knew what I had, I knew it just had to be a Channel Catfish. The closer I dragged it toward the shore, the more it began to fight. With just a flick of the tail, a massive swirl of churning water, that fish took off my drag screaming and nearly ripping the pole from my white knuckled grasp. My heart pumped overtime forcing adrenaline through my blood, powering my muscles. I don't know how long I fought with the fish for, but I do know the whole while I was screaming for my dad to get down to the dock. I walked backwards on the dock, struggling the fish closer to shore until I finally had it half exposed on the rocks so I could grab it. I was was stunned when I first layer eyes upon it. The biggest catfish I had every caught up to that point. Then every fisherman's worst nightmare: my line snapped. Thinking back, even now, it still comes as if in slow motion. All I could think in that moment was that I could not let that fish get away, no matter what. I was not going to lose the fish of a lifetime. So what did I, a thirteen year old girl, do? I did what any diehard fisherman would do. I jumped off the dock and dove onto the Catfish. My pants got soaked with water and my arms and chest covered in Catfish slime, I wrestled with it right then and there. I straddled it with my arms wrapped around its body. My father came running down the hill and was beside himself when he saw his daughter wrestling with a monster catfish. It struggled violently in my grip, but I refused to let go. It's powerful tail slapped and whipped at my legs, but I am a stubborn girl and nothing was going to make me lose that fish. I managed to drag it further up the shore, finally out of the water, where my father leaped down and pulled me up off the fish. We couldn't believe it, in the last few years this was the biggest catfish any one of us had caught. I reeked like Catfish, was covered in slime, and completely soaked, but in that moment never had I felt better. I had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Turns out the fish was thirty three inches long and weighed over nineteen pounds. Now my parents and grandparents love to tell the story of how I wrestled a monster Catfish. Just one of the many of my prize fishing stories. At the time that fish defined me as a true diehard fisherwoman of the Landry family. An addition to my collection of tall tales. That and now with two first place fishing tournaments under my belt, I can say I am above average. I've only been doing it for the last sixteen years. Now that's a fish story.
My father once told me that a good fisherman doesn't need a net...

Author's Note

The format got a little mixed up from what it was. But please let me know what you think. Strive to be better.