One more cast

Today has been quite overcast and despite a temperature of 5 degrees Celcius, with the northerly wind it felt more like 0 degrees and with nothing very pressing to do I went fishing, fishing for grayling that is. For an hour and a half, I searched a stretch of water of about half a mile or so without so much as a sign of any fish. Having only caught one fish each time that I have been out this week, I wasn't too surprised. When the cold had penetrated my bones to the point of near immobility I decided to head back to the truck. Every 20 metres or so I would stop, peer into the water and make another few half hearted casts in the hope that I may get lucky. As I approached a sharp bend in the river I saw a large dark fish, unfortunately it also saw me and moved away. Like a geriatric commando, I crept away and upstream in the hope that the fish wasn't feeling too energetic and may still be in the area. From a kneeling position I made several casts of a fly followed by a slow and gentle retrieve. Another half a dozen fruitless attempts and a small collection of rotting twigs and I decided, one more cast and I'm off back in the warm. So, one final cast and a long dead drift toward the bend before beginning the retrieve. To my surprise I felt the hook set into something quite heavy. Slowly I pulled in the line thinking I had hooked a dead branch or tree root, then the line really tightened, my rod bent over and I had to ease my grip on the line so that my 2lb line tippet didn't break. This was followed by a large swirl on the surface of the water and the brief showing of a fin. Gently and smoothly I hauled in the line and brought my prize over the net, a big fat chub. Before releasing it I weighed the fish on the new digital scales that Pat bought me for our anniversary, 2lb 8oz. what a corker.