Finally, My first fish!

I've caught my first fish from the rivers in Semonkong!
Saturday morning I reluctantly got out of bed at 5 am to head down to the river. Staggering along the rock edged as I switchback and forth toward the river bank I can't help but think how futile it is to even try. This river must be fishless. I have thrown my line in so many times in the past six months that I can't believe I will catch something.
The curious nature of a fisherman is the determination to enjoy the act of fishing with the optimism of enticing something on the other end. Isn't it as much about communing with the river in spiritual union as it is about catching an awesome trout? No, communing is great but eating fish is another type of communing that I can't say I would turn down!
Within the first ten minutes I had nice sized trout on the other end. A real fighter that swam back and forth pulling at my line and flopping about the water, gave for some great excitement. It's not a snag if it's moving!
I got the guy to shore and became the happiest person in Semonkong. I must have stared at him for a few minutes just to convince myself it was real. Not twenty minutes before I had been in bed so maybe it was just a dream. The cold wet feel of the fish still flopping on shore brought me back.
There are pictures! This is no fish tale. I do, however, have the second half of the story up river in another rapid, a hole I have thrown a line into again so many times I can't count. Where's the luck today? I get above the rapid, cast my grasshopper fly at the top and let it flow down skirting the rocks rolling from the top to the bottom and back to the waters surface. The current brought the fly out just above a rock out-cove and a deepening hole. I played with the fly giving it some action as I could imagine a grasshopper having in the water and quick as lightening another trout grabs the line.
Now hindsight is a mysterious thing because it's playback not only includes what did happen but with some help from my imagination is tempted to play out alternative possibilities. In reality, the time between the fish hitting my line, me working to reel it in and the line snapping all was too fast for me to do much else. There is no picture of this fish. It has become my fish story. The one that got away with my grasshopper fly and the first section of my fly rod.
Yep, that's right, in the recoil of the the rod the tip slips off and into the rapid I am standing above. In a fruitless search, I get into the water knee deep trying to locate the end of my rod. Nothing, not even a good idea of where to look other than 'down river'. My fisherman's optimism is still high and the adrenaline is still running so I can't help but laugh, look down river and at the rock out cove. 'I know you are there fish'.
I figure I can contact White River and ask for another piece to be sent. The excitement could not be tamed to the point where I cleaned and cooked the fish all before 10 am Saturday. I have never had fish for breakfast but it was amazing; fresh, clean, and delicious. Thanks Dan, Amy, Jake, Sam and Nathan for the rod. Thankfully I do not have to rely on it as my only source of food but it is great to have!