Personal Narrative Essay

In the short story, “Fish Story,” Rick Bass uses suspense and conflict to strengthen the plot. The father advised his ten year old son to keep watering the 86-pound catfish for the barbeque party later that evening. Throughout the day, many people come to see the “swollen, gasping grotesque netherworld” and “monstrosity” of a fish, including the family who caught the fish to repay their debt of $67 (Bass, 2009, pg. 1).

As soon as we were done we went to play in the freezing water, climb on some old trees that fell, and fixed up our ples to fish. We all kept getting stabbed by the sharp hooks and lures everywhere.

In the book A River Runs Through It, written by Norman Maclean, you might read it and think, wow, this book is super boring. All they do is talk about fishing. But don't be deterred. I'm here to tell you that this book about fishing is actually a book about deeper meaning behind words, relationships,life paths and. This story was very deep and interesting, and I believe that fishing was just a cover for a different, more in-depth meaning.

We over around the lake a lot because how we weren't really hardly getting any bites on our fishing pools. And I had only gotten one bite and when I pulled it in the fish was only a little bit bigger than an orange. But it was

The red drum fishing contest was just under way, and fishermen from miles around gathered on the beaches of Avon, looking for that prize winning catch. It's ironic, Morgan Menlock hated fishing, and yet, here he was, dangling from the hook of Skip Baldridge's new surf-fishing rod, complete with Momoi Diamond monofilament 130-pound line. Skip chuckled to himself that the ad was correct…the line was 200% tougher than tested strengths, because Morgan was not a small man. It had taken considerable effort to reel in this catch, and as the body reached the surface, Skip couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that washed over him. The prize money wouldn’t solve all Skip's problems, but every bit helped.

Fishing has been a pastime of mine since I was around five years old. My first fishing pole was a red Shakespeare Slingshot from Walmart. I caught my first fish on the Duck River, a bluegill. Fishing became one of my favorite pastimes and obsessions. My dad and I started going fishing at the Duck River in Columbia, Tennessee on the weekends. We would mainly catch catfish, carp, bluegill and sometimes perch. My grandfather and uncle taught me different ways to catch and handle fish properly, and how to appreciate the beauty of fishing and the scenic Duck River.

My mother took my brothers and I over to one of my mom's coworkers (and good friend’s) house on the white river.whenever we went there we knew we were either fishing or kayaking,I have never done them both at the same time, but this day I guess I did both of them.

After that I kept thinking to myself that nothing will go right this day. After we had lunch we went back to the river and at that point I was so aggravated. I did not want to fish anymore. I kept catching these little fish and that was getting really annoying. Cherokee is supposed to be one of the best places to fish in North Carolina. They only stock fish fifteen inches or more in these rivers. Somehow I just kept catching these little fish. It was about 3:30 or so when all of a sudden I hooked into a massive fish. Right when I set the hook it came out. Most fish will not bite again if that happens so honestly at that point I wanted to be done. For some odd reason something told me I should throw there again. Right at the same spot it hit again. This time I made sure to not let it get off. I never knew this would be the biggest fish I have ever caught. Also never knew it would be a six minute fight. This fish was huge compared to any other fish I have ever caught. I finally got it in the net and I knew after this terrible day still something good could happen. It was the biggest rainbow trout I have ever laid my hands on. I learned a life lesson that

The Halibut Lodge offers access to the most productive and unexploited sportfishing in Alaska. That’s what drew Harvey to the tour office two days after Thanksgiving. At 2:00 o’clock, guests would arrive to inspect the 40ft "Halibut" Passenger Boat for up to 35 passengers, but the inquisitive self-assured lawyer’s assistant had not realized his watch was one hour fast. Avoiding the elevator, Harvey climbed the zig zag stair case to the top of the boat. There, he scanned the long, high deck leading back to a rear-set cabin lined on both sides with towers, outriggers (long poles that extend fishing line away from the boat), cavernous fish lockers, aerated live wells (for live bait or live

The second day of the trip, my grand-uncle brought my brother and I to Gloucester to go fishing. Before we went to Gloucester, my grand-uncle brought us to buy food and fish bait.After we bought everything we needed, my grand-uncle drove us to Gloucester. We walked to a perfect area for us to fish.

When I went with my dad and brothers to go fly fishing on Alaska's Kenai River I expected to have a day full of nothing but fun and lots of fish. After reaching the Alaskan riverside I eagerly jumped out of the truck and bounded

Throughout the day we enjoyed catching countless fish with our petite, freshwater lures, yet the surrounding fishermen never modified their methods of fishing so they also could experience the same enjoyment. They patiently waited while a rod, as thick as a broomstick and as long as a car, sat in front of them, bobbing with the current. Somewhere out in the ocean was their rig, a huge, crippled baitfish swimming around in little circles, struggling, just calling for some hungry beast to engulf it. Those fishermen never caught much, but when they did it was always a monstrosity, twenty pounds or more. Word had it that just a week earlier a man had even caught a one

Each time he caught one it was an amazing experience. Finally, some fishing luck came my way when we returned to a lake where we had luck catching muskie before. It was the last day of our vacation and it was the first week in July where the moon had a red shade to it. It was getting very dark and the time was around 9:30 p.m. when my brother and I decided to stop at a spot where we had seen a musky earlier in the week. Fishing by moonlight and boat light, we cast our lures around the area. We had not gotten more than five casts out when suddenly I saw a good sized musky swim very fast up to my lure and slowly approach. It seemed to almost stop completely as if contemplating whether or not to bite before violently striking the bait with a ton of force. I instantly set the hook after feeling the huge pull on my line, and the musky jumped straight out of the water shaking its head violently trying to get the lure out of its mouth. It did this numerous times and also made a few dives straight down to the bottom of the lake putting a lot of tension on my pole. The musky even came out of the water and did a complete 360 flip in midair. Each time the fish would surface the water I would get very nervous because whenever the fish gets airborne, it is more likely to come off the hook. I eventually got the fish to the boat and my brother easily

One weekend, Eleazar decided we should try our hand at deep-sea fishing, so he chartered an exclusive trip for us on the Flying Connie. The boat and crew were at our disposal for the entire day; we set out early around six a.m. that morning. The first hour of our journey was spent reviewing safety regulations, followed up by a basic “fishing 101” crash course. Once upon the fishing grounds, the captain passed out our poles and bait. When he reached Alice with her container of live sardines, she looked at him bewildered. She was expecting worms or manufactured lures. Immediately realizing the fate of the “poor little fishies” which she soon deemed them, she sobbed and refused to allow anyone to bait their hooks maintaining we would be murderers to do so.

We just arrived at one of the famous fishing holes. Waves rolling over the rocks. We call it the walleye chop. We drop our lines down as fast as we could, like a rock vigorously skipping across the lake. When it finally hits bottom we give it two or three reels up. We turn the fish locator on and it glows with action at all of the fish. My face lit up knowing that fish are down there. We then drop the trolling motor down and gave the remote a few clicks. Slowly the boat glided into motion. As we troll along I gave my new pole a few jigs. My uncle says he has one on. Suddenly, there was tapping at the end of my fishing rod. I let some line out and the fish takes it. I gave it a pull and set the hook. My fish started running. I jerk it back into place; it was swimming my way. My heart began to race as it was inching closer to the boat. I pulled it out of the water and it was a nice 18 incher. Shining with beams of sunlight; I tossed him into the live well. I throw the branded line back down to get some