The One That Didn't Get Away

I went fishing a couple of times when I was a child but never caught anything. 

Years later I found myself with some friends on a fishing trip to Chinaman Creek in South Australia.

At first I just sat back and watched the others do the fishing (because I don't have the patience to sit on my arse for hours and hours; hunting for something I can't even see). But they were having no luck and so they encouraged to join them, in the hope that one more line in the water meant one more chance to catch a fish.

My inexperience became obvious when I cast the line for the first time. I completely overestimated the amount of force required and the line sailed high into the air, right across the creek, and landed among the branches of a tree on the far bank.

And then the hook got stuck and I couldn't release it.

So I took off my clothes, dived into the water, swam across the creek, climbed up the tree, released the hook, threw it into the water below, climbed back down the tree, swam across the creek, clambered back to my fishing rod, picked it up - and found I had a fish on the end of the line.

It was the first and only catch of the day.