No Surrender!
The best memory of my dad I had later life was when he visited the UK for the first time after leaving for NZ.
Maggie and I took him fishing to our favourite carp lake – Tom’s Pool’ where he loved watching the buzzards kettling up on the thermals and seeing the kingfisher flash by. The spot is near Corfe Castle and is miles from the nearest village and down a farm track so the only sounds there are bird calls, insects and an occasional splash from a carp jumping for joy (or more probably trying to rid itself of parasites).
This day we had the place to ourselves and dad looked for an ideal spot finding a corner out of the sun where he could float fish by the reed mace and lillies. We had gone in the afternoon to avoid the heat of the day in the hope the fish would bite. Dad settled down with his usual patience and we both caught a few of the smaller carp.
Then dad hooked a bigger carp steering it away from the reeds and then starting to play the fish as it pulled away across the pond. Suddenly, his rod snapped in half under the pressure from the carp… He didn’t give up but went on playing the fish with half a rod while the top half moved up and down the line as the fish sped away or was reeled back. His tongue was clamped between his lips in concentration when his fishing reel fell off into the water…
Did he give up? Not a bit of it, but determined to win dad wound the line round his hand and kept on playing the fish until it tired. In his concentration he slithered down the bank until he was up to his knees in the lake… but battled on until he landed the fish. Once the hook was out and the carp back in the water dad retrieved his reel from the margin and then found a way to go on using his half-a-rod to re-bait and re-cast!
It never ever crossed his mind to give up, despite the hysterical laughter coming from mags and me.