106 ALBACORA 



pound test. It overtested, giving the record back to me 

 for my 315-pounder. 



"Well, Genie," Lou said in an efifort to cheer me, 

 "You know how it is. Anything can happen with light 

 tackle." 



"I don't mind that," I said, "when I'm reeling in 

 the fish. That's a big part of the sport. But what gets me 

 is that anything can happen even after you've boated the 

 fish." 



Fishing psychology is obviously not all one-sided. 

 The fisherman who can outsmart his victims must also 

 be able to cope with depressing periods of frustration 

 he feels within himself. Why do I fish? It is the most 

 exciting sport that I've encountered, and though the odds 

 seem stacked against the fish, they can be pretty close 

 to even when the angler uses light tackle. 



The loss of a fish and the resultant dulling of excite- 

 ment can be a miserable and wretched thing. Ideally, 

 you get your fish on very light line, keep him on it for 

 as long as you can, get every jump you can out of his 

 body, look at him in all his shining beauty and then 

 bring him to subjugation as painlessly as possible. This 

 is great sport. When suddenly the line grows slack and 

 the sport is over and the fish has won, it is hard to find 

 immediate consolation. The change from action to in- 

 action is too swift. Let us say that a particular fish has 

 lived for fifteen years. He has grown into a thing of 

 beauty buoyed by his strong courageous heart. In escap- 

 ing from me, he is winning a fight for life. Now he 



