What do creative writing & fishing have in common?

Another hobby of mine is creative writing (it’s what I studied at University), so every once in a while you might find a short piece of prose or poetry pop up on the blog…I’m afraid this is one of those times. This particular piece is about when

I was lucky enough to catch Mary, my very first carp:

Mary

The racing wind hurled a cold, translucent battalion of watery arrows against my face and body. The spattering patter drove against the surface of my waterproof jacket. My saturated pants shone like latex, making my legs shiver as I stood at the lake edge. It was difficult to keep the rod still through the feeling of intense cold.
The outer margins housed an abundance of vegetation turned russet in the autumnal season. Each south westerly gust of scathing wind swayed the crisp, jostling leaves to and fro directing my drop bait and float further into the bank. With the prospect of a line tangle in sight I contemplated recasting but decided to wait a little longer.
Throwing a small handful of live maggots around the float, I noticed an instantaneous waver pulling the fluorescent orange tip further into the water. There was something nipping at my double hook bait of curling maggots. With eyes fixed intently to the spot, something told me this could be the moment I was going to catch. Another small dip transpired. Another…then another. Suddenly, my indicator disappeared completely into the silvery waters crust. I struck. Instantly there was a heavy pull from underneath.
I switched my anti-reverse lever to the left of my spool and wound back to ease the tension of the tugging from below. The fight began; I was playing a fish at last. Once the weight of the fish relaxed against the slack I wound down. Pulling the rod upwards, the muscles in my arm tensed as the furthest end of my rod curved into a deep arc. The fish began to pull again. I wound back once more. My catch relaxed somewhat so I repeated the wind down motion.
The cold may have made my target more lethargic than in the summer months as the fight was not as hard as I expected. It wasn’t long before I could see the silken, creamy underbelly of the creature twisting under the surface of the shining waters skin. Bringing her gently forwards, the head came into clear view. Once securely netted, I brought her out of the water and rested her gently on an unhooking mat, took out the hook and smiled with sheer delight as the fully scaled mirror carp looked at me with innocent, gingery eyes.
She was stunningly beautiful probably only around 4.5 – 5 lbs in weight. Her scales glinted like chiselled shards of slate on the surface of her moist skin. Glowing beiges, nutmeg browns and paler yellows shone like small pearly clam shells on her body. She jerked and flapped her tail to display her unrest so I covered her eyes lightly with the palm of my hands to calm her.
Placing my thumb in the fish’s mouth, I put the fingers of my left hand tenderly under her head whilst cupping the underside of the tail with my right so I could perform a low-level lift.
Grinning with illation, my legs trembled as I knelt on the muddy ground with my catch and looked up towards the camera. A snapshot in time captured forever where Mary and I shared the same moment. Who would have imagined the sense of pleasure and satisfaction gained such an event?
Why did I name her Mary? She was my virgin fish. The first carp I had ever landed. And as with all momentous occasions, this one will be etched in my mind forever.
Wishing to cause her as little distress as possible, I placed Mary in the landing net once more for her journey home. We said farewell as I returned her to the water.
The wicked wind and cruel rain had disappeared for the entire duration. It wasn’t until the moment ended that I noticed how extreme the weather conditions had become. This made me realize how intense a session of fishing can be, providing me with the insight as to why so many people throughout the world have made fishing the greatest sport in existence.