It was just another forgotten weekend I was living in, too much to do in too little time and too many friends.

I must say those are problems I don't mind having, truth be told. It beats the alternative of having nothing to do, all kinds of time and no friends.

Even under the best of circumstances, I find that I must often remind myself that I am lucky to have some of the problems I have. It is a matter of perspective, as I have said so many countless times in the past in my nearly aimless ramblings.

I had a wonderful day of fishing Friday, heading out to one of my favorite spots and managing to accomplish my first trifecta. I snagged three nice trout, each measuring more than 16 inches in length. That sounds like a lie to many fishermen, but I can assure you that it is entirely true and unfabricated. And before any of you ask, I wasn't at a local trout pond, either.

No, our local trout waters often serve up a nice catch, or so I have seen in my brief experience. We are blessed with some of the best trout water around, with the possible exception of Ashe County, which seems to get a disproportionate share of the stocking. But that's another question for another time. We do quite well here, nonetheless.

As I was saying, it was a fairly typical fishing day when I headed out that evening, worms and little silver and gold spinners all tucked neatly into my fishing vest. I still have my collapsible fishing pole that I have been using for about three years now and it still does a fine job, despite the fact that the reel is getting a mite hard to deal with.

I also had my rag tied on the front of my vest, which I use to clean the fish and worm mess off my hands. As I started fishing, I knew I was going to have a good day. I found a pocket of brook trout almost immediately and continued to catch a few as I went. I usually let the smallest ones go if they aren't injured. The ones that seem to be native fish are always neat to catch, but I always try to wet my hands before touching them and release them without taking them out of the water. The populations of native fish in our local waters are not that large and I would hate to see them depleted further by my carelessness. However, I have no such policy for the stocked trout.

They usually find their way into my freezer as soon as I can get them there, provided they don't make a stop at the frying pan first. As I was saying, the fishing here is very good in general, but Friday was better than usual. The weather was a little bit nasty that evening, with a few showers catching me by surprise, but I still managed to tough it out.

I took along my straw hat, which does a pretty good job at keeping my head dry. It also makes me look like an idiot, but that never stopped me before. I'd take being a dry idiot over being a wet normal guy any day. Dry idiots don't catch colds near as often.

At any rate, I had kept about three fish of average size when I hooked my first lunker, a nice female rainbow with a dark-colored back and a nice pink stripe down the side.

After I dragged that one out onto the bank and put it on the stringer, I moved a little further on and hooked a brook trout of nearly the same size. Needless to say, I did the happy fisherman's dance for a spell after getting that one landed on a little rocky area in the water. On a whim, I made a cast into another area of the same hole and, much to my surprise, I hooked another nice trout. It put up the best fight of the day, jumping into the air and coming down with a splash soon after I set my hook.

It was thrashing water all over me, soaking my vest and shirt in the process. With the temperature hovering in the 50s, that isn't a good thing, let me assure you.

When it got closer, I saw it had a brown colored back and a pale line on its side, almost orange in color. I first thought it was a brown trout because of the color on the back, but a friend told me that it was a rainbow. Evidently, some of them have different colors than others.

Nonetheless, it was a beautiful male trout and I was nearly outside myself with surprise at catching it as well.

I took my catch home and snapped a picture of them, just to preserve the moment. Needless to say, they won't make it to the taxidermist to be made into wall hangings.

Instead, they had to make a detour to the freezer, where they now lay in blocks of ice, awaiting their turn to hit the oven.

I must say, I was very pleased with myself that evening, but not so much so that I would believe that it was my skill that led to the catch. Any idiot in a straw hat in the rain could have caught those fish, it was just the fact that I was the idiot that happened along at the right time.

Even so, I feel sure that it will be something I can enjoy bragging about for some time in fishing circles. The first question I usually get asked is, "Where did you catch them at?" The reply usually comes in the form of "wouldn't you like to know?"

After all, if you give away all your secret fishing spots, everyone would want to go there. It's not like there aren't already lots of people fishing on Little River as it is, there's no need to advertise. Oh well, the secret is out. I just hope the fish can forgive me for spilling the beans. I never was very good at keeping fish tales to myself.

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