Page 53 - ODUMar-Apr2019

seconds (or an

eternity). If I tightened
the drag, the line
would snap like a
wishbone. I held fast
hoping she would tire
soon. Then, without
warning, the struggle
ceased.

Heartbreak
Not a single expletive
was uttered. I fell to
my knees, put my face
in my hands, and

remained there for
several minutes simply
speechless. Absolute
heartbreak.

The line revealed a clean break. My equipment did not fail. Moby Bass swam towards cover (you know,
that brush pile from before) as instinct tends to dictate. It was the edge of a hidden knife that sliced the
fluorocarbon. The next hour

was spent combing over the
area hoping to trigger another
strike. It had happened once
before so why not again?

Alas, she continued to elude me.
I was truly despondent and

completely off my game for the
rest of the night. Then I
realized, that in the grand
scheme, this bass meant
nothing.

Perspective
This bass was not the difference

between a six-figure paycheck
and walking home empty
handed. It did not cost me a
fully loaded Toyota pick-up. I
had experienced a great deal of
success on this trip. In fact, all I
lost was a photograph and a bit