A while ago, I left my beloved McLean landing net on the banks of the Tongariro River.

Somewhat distraught, I felt that I needed to prove that I was trustworthy before I could justify rekindling a relationship with such a fine servant – a gift from my Dad

So, on the rebound, I ‘settled’ for the cheapest weigh-net I could find in the local shops.

Our affair started well. I took steps to secure this new net properly against the tangling grabs of blackberry. Net, in return, landed many fish and gave me their weights. Checking this weight with a bottle of water, net was doing a fabulously accurate job. We were both happy.

But, somewhere along the fishing line our relationship changed.  I was unaware and taken aback at just how far we had grown apart.

On a recent club trip, we netted a lovely rainbow.  It looked good. I asked the net how much and it replied “just on 5lb”.  I calibrated my brain with the result, snapped a photo, released the trout, and cast for more. It was a good day.

But on showing the image to my fishing companions that evening, they were sceptical. Jarek said he had an eye for such things; his fishing diary suggested a wealth of experience in such matters. They suspected something was not right.

Sure enough, the next day, fisher Phil graciously and expertly used his McLean net for me.  “Just over 3lb”, it said.  What? Is that all? At that moment it dawned on me that my net had been lying to me.  For how long I did not know.

On re-checking the calibration, the magnitude of the deceit was laid bare – to the tune of over 1lb. Realising that I had perpetuated the lie, relaying and amplifying it to friends and followers, I felt that my integrity was on shaky ground. Something would have to change.

Maybe net is just old and has lost the spring in its step – or at least in its handle.

We’ve had a good run, and many adventures together, but perhaps it is time for net and I to part, to split up, go our separate ways. 

After all, there are always more fish in the sea.  I think that McLean over there is beckoning me…

First published in the Wellington Flyfishers Club Newsletter – Tight Lines