As a small boy, my grandfather was the man who introduced me to fishing, having answers as “in the middle” to the question “Where is the most fish to be found?”, while the good man has since passed away, there are some amazing stories that came from his end to me. This is one of them, I hope you enjoy it!
One sunny Sunday I left with nothing more than a rod, rig and some dead fishes for bait to roam the nearby water, eventually ending up in a river nearby, after some lost cause casting and waiting for that one bite I eventually decided to get a drink in a nearby tavern which was since turned into a restaurant. While my intentions were initially to just get a drink, as I got closer to the destination I decided I could give it another try when I got there, the restaurant happened to be just across a river.
When I got there the terrace was full of sunshine enjoying people, to avoid a lot of theatricalities, I prepared my rod and rig in the garden of the establishment. After a talk with the waiter I quickly completed the rig and having attached the last fish I had left I walked as fast but yet unnoticeable as possible to the river that was just across the road and placed my bait and line in the middle of the gentle flowing river, the float was perfectly balanced and just gently floating along with the stream.
Chirping birds and the amazing weather had me looking away for a bit, enjoying the amazing day. Then it happened, suddenly the float was gone, as these things always go, I was off course just looking the other way. The line was now starting to rapidly leave the reel and into the water, 20 meters.. 30 meters.. 40.. and here we go! I can now easily admit, I overdid the swing a bit, if it would have been any harder the fish would have come flying past but as it was, it worked out perfectly, the fish was hooked and my rod was arced beyond anything I’d ever seen before.
I started reeling the fish in slowly, giving it room to express its discontent with my now being attached to it, the noticeable pounding on the line gave away that this was indeed a pike-perch. Once I got the fish nearby enough I reached down and luckily grabbed it behind it’s gills in one quick movement. The waiter of the establishment nearby had walked up to the water as any fisherman would do to enjoy seeing a fish being caught helped me to remove the hook and wrapped the fish into his cloth, saying: “Around seven tonight, boiled or baked?”, “baked of course, as always”.
After such a venture with an audience I quickly undid my rod and rig, put them away in the hold-all and as casually as possible wandered back to the terrace to enjoy a stout beer which I had earned. To complete it I distinctly recall a lady saying to her partner “How can it be!”
He always ended the story with saying it was one of the best fishes he ever ate, enjoyed with some lettuce, baked potatoes and a fine glass of beer which perfectly complimented the fish.
Do you have any stories from before? We’d love for you to share them, we’ll post them on here for everyone to read accredited to you, of course. So come on and share those stories!