Fishing adventure

I love fishing. Unfortunately, my time is so limited that I rarely find a moment to devote myself to my hobby with due diligence. However, a few months ago, I managed to escape for a weekend. I went to my favorite fishing spot. For obvious reasons, I won't reveal the name or location. To maintain proper etiquette, I'll just say that it's a deep channel lake, with spots as deep as 60 meters. It's located near the sea.

Apparently, it once had a connection, but the joyful communist economy built a wide embankment separating it from the sea. However, you can catch many interesting fish here. I loved spinning, even sweeping the dark blue, almost navy blue, water with a heavy spoon.

This time was no exception. The weather was perfect for a face-off with a large predator. Heavy clouds obscured the sky. It was muggy. A storm was brewing. Anyone who enjoys fishing knows that this is the perfect weather for encountering a large aquatic fauna. Unfortunately, I was unlucky that day. I'd been casting for over an hour, but to no avail. Finally, I reached an interesting embankment. It jutted out about a meter above the water's surface. Despite staring intently at it, I couldn't see the bottom.

This meant it was already very deep. I cast once, then twice. The third time, when I lifted the spinner from the bottom, I felt unimaginable resistance. The rod arched, almost to its limit, and the rattle of the reel indicated the large specimen's pulling line. I tried to pull it back and stop it. It didn't stand a chance. Only when almost all the line was off the spool did the fish on the hook stop. Gently, so as not to spook it, I started pumping to regain some of the lost line. I felt myself slowly bringing the catch closer, meter by meter. After almost half an hour of this, the resistance on the rod, which had been inert for a while, came alive again. In a matter of seconds, I lost all the meters I had painstakingly regained.

And the same thing happened again. And just like before, I persistently and laboriously pulled the catch towards me. When I brought it relatively close again, the violent clatter of the drag signaled that the fish had come alive again. And so, this cat-and-mouse game continued for what seemed like over three hours. Finally, I began to gain the upper hand. I pulled the catch towards me faster and faster. I strained my eyes to pierce the blackness of the water and at least see what was on my hook. Finally, the catch emerged. The conning tower of a World War II submarine came into view. On it was painted the symbol: U-456.

Suddenly, the hatch opened, and a gray-haired sailor's head poked out. He glared at me. He cursed under his breath and then ducked back down. I stood frozen as the water around the conning tower gurgled and the boat sank back into the lake. I'll never go fishing on that lake again...