“Don’t fall in the water again!” Annsi shouted from the jetty, as he climbed into the boat with Andrew.
“Funny! My sides are splitting with laughter,” I shouted back just as he started the engine. I stood on a different boulder from the day before, and cast into the pine tree-fringed alcove, their very own private beach, on Annsi’s family-owned, Finnish island. I replayed yesterday, the second day of our vacation, when I enthusiastically cast into the same alcove, but I was overzealous—I cast myself into the cold Baltic sea, too!
My dad had taught me how to fish when I was about 10, so on that day I knew I could go bigger. The guys had left for the mainland for supplies. Nikki, Annsi’s wife, was in the cottage’s kitchen preparing a smoked salmon. Rod in hand, I headed to the west side of the island.
Battling the boulders, I finally arrived where the shoreline became a shelf of small rocks, each one individually wrapped by pools of water, waiting for the return of high tide. It was a perfect platform. I cast out far into the egg-white peaked water, hoping the hook would not get caught in the rocks. I settled into the thrill of being exactly where I was, and so completely far removed from London.
I felt a tug. The bait drifted and lodged between the rocks, I thought. I slackened the line. It tugged again. Then a sharp pull. Was it a fish? A FISH! A REAL fish! I widened my stance, while slackening and gently reeling in the line. I rocked from one foot to the other.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”
I was amazed. My blood pressure dropped. I had caught a fish! It felt like a big fish, too! My hands became clammy. The fish was surprisingly strong! What if this fish pulled me out to see?
I rocked side to side, faster, like a boat tossed in the ocean.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!” I cried.
I continued to work the line. For how long, I don’t know. I considered letting go, surrendering the rod to the sea, when one more pull dragged the fish onto the dock of rocks. It flapped, and rolled, desperate for water. I pulled it closer in case it flapped back into the sea. I felt the rush of each of our places in the animal kingdom. Instinctively, I wanted to win. I needed the fish net. It was on the porch of the cottage. I lay the rod down on the rocks, secured it with a few larger ones, and headed back to the cottage. I slipped on a boulder, grazing my knee. Adrenalin filled my feet. I kept going. I refused to lose my catch! Back on the porch, I heard Nikki in the kitchen, and the guys had not returned. I grabbed the net resting on the railing, and headed back to the fish. My heart wouldn’t stop racing, exhilarated by everything that was unfolding. I could do this! I couldn’t believe I had caught a fish. What if the tide or birds took the fish?
When I returned to the cottage, I climbed the porch steps holding the rod in one hand, and the net in the other.
“Oh…Nikki….” I called, as I walked along the deck with the long fish’s gills pushing against the netting.
Nikki came out the front door, rubbing her hands in a dish towel.
“Oh my God! Linda! When did you…where did you…? They guys are going to piss themselves. And so pissed with jealousy. I love it!”
“I know! I can’t stop shaking though. It’s not a good look for a big deal! My first big fish!” I laughed.
Nikki’s chuckle faded. She firmly took hold of the net’s frame and in a low voice, looking me straight in the eye, said, “You know the tradition – you catch it, you kill it.”
I slung the slippery summer catch onto the rock. I raised my right arm holding a stubby log. Nikki walked over with a rusty, handheld fish scale.
“And you thought you had simply come on holiday,” she said. “You didn’t think you had come to kill.”
I felt the rush of each of our places in the animal kingdom. Instinctively, I wanted to win.