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of the pond where the stones were, I stopped reeling and let the spinner drift freely. Assuming there was fish there, I tilted the rod up, letting the lure rise slightly to make it look like injured fry.It seemed the lure was stuck on a rock again. Feeling sorry for the spinner’s owner, I unlocked the reel and let the line flow freely in the hope that the current might carry it out. I reeled it in again three minutes later and it had worked. The lure had escaped its rocky grave.I cast the golden spinner a second time. When it glided over the same pile of rocks, I let it drift down towards the bottom again. I did not stop reeling but slowed down the pace this time.I could sense a slight tension transmitted along the line. My wrists abruptly swung the rod. The tension at the end of the line grew heavy, accompanied by the rumbling sound of the rolling reel. I resisted until the rod bent down abruptly. I had been released from my spell of misfortune.“Get the net!” I told my fishing companion, as if we had been friends for a long time. The lake trout was pulling the line away. My heart beat fast as there was a good chance the 4-pound line would snap. I rushed to reset the drag, which had been set to very light, to even lighter, and I walked along the pier to try to ease the fish into shallower water.Reeling in the line at times when it stopped, and handling the line carefully when the fish was swimming away, I did not dare pump the rod hard because the gauge was narrow and parts of the line had frayed. I had to wait until there was some slack and reel it in a bit each time.After 10 minutes, the fish was brought along to the inner part of the creek. My new friend had prostrated himself on the pier, which was four feet above the water level, preparingfor me to bring the fish in closer. But noticing the net, the fish darted out to deep water again, until I regained control. It took three times. I almost had a heart attack as I prayed for the line not to break. Finally the fish got worn out and could be scooped out of the water. It was just the right size; 50cm from tip to tail. It was a quarter past noon at the time.I had stood here in the freezing wind for four hours. The skin on my hands had started to crack, but I gently stroked them with content- ment...Before leaving for home, I opened my tackle box and asked my new friend to have a look.“You can take anything you want...”He looked at me reluctantly and took out two artificial lures.“I made those on my own. You should take something better than that.” I was serious, as I felt that he had shown such generosity.“I’ll take those. I like the colours.”I could only give him an additional spinner, the best one I had left, which I had been afraid to use lest it also got caught on the rocks.After saying goodbye, I grabbed the fish and rod, heading for the car.“Wait...” the man said.“What?” I turned back and for the first time noticed that we had dressed almost the same, wearing jeans and a field jacket over a sweater.“Where are you from?” he asked.“Thailand. I am studying at Cornell.”He considered, then gave me a lonely smile. “I know Thailand. It’s next to Vietnam, isn’t it?”“Yeah, that’s right. Have you been there before?”“No, not yet. I’ve only been to a war in Vietnam.”We reached out to shake hands and said goodbye again. While starting the engine, I turned to lookat the lake.On the banks of the lake stood anisolated, stout man casting his bait. I know why...Read the first part of 'The Lake Trout' on eliteplusmagazine.com via this QR codeAbout the AuthorSeksan Prasertkul was born in 1949 in the eastern part of Thailand. He received a PhD in political science from Cornell University, USA, and apart from writing, he has served as a lecturer at Thammasat University, Bangkok, during the past 20 years. Seksan rose to prominence in Thailand as both a writer and public figure, and his literary works are considered unique because of their consistency, original style and inspiring thoughts drawn from his direct experiences.Seksan Prasertkul was honoured as a Thai National Artist in the field of literature in 2009.Elite+ 61