2020-2021 Youth Writing Contest Special Recognition – Junior Category – Maine (Grades 6–8)
The River with No Name
Arlan Cooper Smith, 6th Grade, Massabesic Middle School
“The river with no name” is the river I learned to fly fish in. Me and my grandfather were driving up to New Hampshire. We stopped to get some food. Then my grandfather leaned over and said, “This is fly fishing school with the chance of catching a fish.” We ate and then continued.
We parked next to a river, but not the river. We walked across a field, and then I saw it, “The river with no name.” We walked and walked and walked, and then we walked some more. We came to a staircase that led down to the river. We fished the whole run, until we got to a tree that had roots leading into the water.
I started fishing. Then a fish hit my lure and I hooked the fish – I could feel the fish splashing. Then I let the slack line out. I was devastated, and it seemed the fish had come off. But abruptly, I felt a tug, and I hooked the fish again. My grandfather practically jumped up and down. I tried to keep myself from getting too excited and doing the same thing. I could lose the fish and I was determined not to let that happen.
I brought the fish to about 20 feet away, and my grandfather netted it. Both of us were jumping with happiness.
Then we saw that the fish was very hurt from the way I had hooked it. And I asked my grandfather if we could take it to eat the next day. He said, “Yeah, why not?” I took the fish out of the net and the thing flopped up. Then it fell in the water.
I waded out to the fish. Like I said, the fish was hurt, and it could not swim. I grabbed the fish and put it back in the net.
My grandfather took the fish and gutted it. The weird thing for me was, when we were gutting the fish I observed that there were rocks in the stomach of the fish. My grandfather said that he ate the rocks thinking it was food.
We didn’t catch anything else. We walked back to the stairs that led down to the river. We walked all the way to the field, which took about 10 minutes. We made it to the road and walked up the road for about five minutes. We made it to the truck. My grandpa had packed lunch, and we ate.
The next morning I woke up and went to see my grandpa. He was already up and cooking the trout. He made French toast and rainbow trout. This was the best fish I have ever had. The skin tasted like a salted chip. And the meat tasted like chicken – maybe even steak, if I could say.
I learned that with my grandfather, the list of things to do is endless, and that it’s spending time together doing the little things that counts the most.
