The Walk of Shame.
The morning after is when it really hit me, like WTH just happened. It was as if a bad movie was replaying over and over again in my head.
I couldn't sleep last night because every time I closed my eyes I had visions of that 15lb black tailed devil going for its first run and the knot in my fly line that I couldn't get out quickly enough. To date this was the closest encounter I've had since my last permit on the fly. I convinced myself that I needed one more shot, I got more like 10 and I proceeded to hook another one, not as big as the first but a solid fish out of the school that was the size of a truck. Feeling relieved and redeemed I realized right before he got on the reel, I had another knot in the same spot. BAM like a flash of lightning #2 for the day was gone.
Tucked with my tail between my legs we returned back to the dock. Longest boat ride home in my life. The guides at the dock gave me my well deserved lashings. Another opportunity lost at sea.
Cursed, vexed or just down right unlucky? In all honesty it's probably just a lack of paying attention. What am I going to do the next time I get a permit on? Focus immediately on my fly line, ensuring that it will be a smooth transition getting that fish on the reel.
I should've caught 10 yesterday. Instead I'm humbled again.