Personal Narrative Essay

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Personal Narrative

I was bruised, bitten, and banged up, and I loved it. The weekend had completely made my summer and filled in a part of my personality that I never knew existed. My king salmon fishing trip taught me perseverance, trust, tolerance, and that it is not always the trophy, but instead the journey you take along the way.

Every summer that I go back to Michigan, my cousin Lance and I take a fishing trip. This year we were after the big ones, king salmon, running up the Manistee River. I was excited yet a little anxious about the expedition that lay ahead of us. For weeks before we left, Lance and all of his friends riddled my mind with horror stories from their past attempts at these mighty fish. Chris, a big burly man
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To say the least we were not having a lucky day. The water was icy cold, and we were covered in mud. The only things that I had caught were a two inch blue gill, and the likely hood of pneumonia. Three fishing spots into the trip, I was ready to give up, pack up, and go home.

Needless to say we were getting desperate. This is when Lance told Amber and me about “the spot”. We would have to climb trees, forge the frigid river, cross fallen logs, and tromp through the mosquitos’ home territory, but we were going to catch a fish. Our first challenge was to descend a seventy foot sandy embankment. As we were going down Lance shouted to Amber and I to look into the river. That was when we saw them. They were bigger then I had even imagined. The salmon were racing through the crystal clear water, and when they crossed the shallow water we could see their silver bodies. They moved faster then any fish I had ever seen, and they were swimming against the current. Now I was scared. At the bank of the river we jumped in to rinse off all of the sand, then started crossing. Half way across I was stuck.

The water was up to my neck and I had no where to go. I yelled to Lance but he couldn’t hear me. I didn’t know what to do but saw a fallen tree down stream a ways. I picked up my feet and started sailing toward the branches. Just before I passed underneath it I reached up and grabbed on to a limb. Holding the rod in my left hand I pulled myself on top of the log. I crawled
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