As human beings we see many unexpected things transpire in our lives. The old saying: Truth is stranger than fiction, is absolutely true and just this week I witnessed some human interactions that left me with my mouth hanging open in shock and surprise.

Coincidences, odd occurrences, happenings which appear to defy any reasonable odds take place with some regularity. I have reached the point where nothing seems impossible, no matter how far-fetched.

Unfortunately, death sometimes comes sweeping out of the blue and shocks one and all. A person you thought perfectly healthy suddenly keels over and people just shake their heads at the suddenness and finality of it. The Grim Reaper has a sickle in hand, just waiting. You never know for sure if you’ll see tomorrow or not. Strange things you just can’t explain happen. It almost happened to me.

On Saturday the cold, rainy weather ceased, the sun came out and the sky turned a deep, beautiful blue with temperatures in the low 70s. I grabbed my UL rod, boots and vest and headed over to Allegany State Park.

On the drive over the warm sun lit up colorful leaves and shone brightly over all God’s creation, lighting up my heart, filling me with a great appreciation for this glorious fall spectacle, the intense pleasure of being alive and part of it all. How pleasant just to drive and be totally relaxed and happy.

Others were enjoying this gorgeous day as well. Bicyclists filled the bike paths, hikers walked by in groups, talking and laughing, grills were going, picnics flourishing, the park tables filled with food and drink. Everyone seemed in the best of humor, the beautiful day seemingly forbidding any melancholy thoughts.

Naturally, others were fishing as well, many others, and I had to seek out an area others had missed. Eventually, I discovered a small, deserted stretch and parked. On with the boots, off with my fleece vest — it was that warm — rigging my pole and struggling into my overloaded, heavy, very ragged fishing vest. The poor thing’s almost falling apart but you can’t purchase a decent vest nowadays — they’ve become too specialized, no large pockets allowing you to carry every conceivable type of tackle for any fishing condition or idiosyncrasies the fish may be experiencing that day. Trout can be maddeningly selective, especially when heavily pressured.

This section of stream held several fish, nowhere near the number of trout where people congregate, but a few large and small rainbows cruised up and down, occasionally boiling the water and raising your heart rate. I soon discovered these trout had been pressured as well and were shy indeed. Spinners, spoons, Trout Magnets, nightcrawlers and Power Bait were all treated with disdain, ignored, even causing the trout to dart away in alarm if cast too close to them. Cagey critters!

Moving upstream I came to a section where several willows had been cut down. The bushes were sheared off at a 45-degree angle, were sun-hardened and sharp. Anyone falling on those would be in serious trouble, they were dangerous, like jungle punji stakes. Perhaps, I thought, it’d be wise to return later and cut them down.

Up the creek, I found some shade and sat down to minimize my silhouette and present less of a threat. Switching to my last alternative my luck improved when a trout or two actually turned and made a pass. Thirty minutes later a rainbow finally hit. I set the hook and was amazed when the ‘bow took off like a shot, tearing upstream for some 200 feet, darting under some overhanging willows. What a long run; very unusual!

Using only 4-pound test I kept as much pressure on as possible and finally was forced to get up and move upstream closer to the trout, hoping the fish wouldn’t break off. Luckily, the line came free and at the same moment the trout tore off downstream like a rocket some 40 yards. Oh, my word, this fish was on steroids!

Holding my rod as high as possible, staggering through the willows after him, I was forced to move through the center of the punji stake area. Right in the middle I tripped, lost my balance and fell. During that brief interval before hitting the ground, ghastly possibilities flashed through my mind. A punctured lung, stake through the face, stomach wound, lose an eye? Instinctively, my legs collapsed, lessening the distance to the ground and at the same moment my body bent slightly though I don’t know why. My right hand still held the rod high as I fell. Really? That was crazy.

Thud! I hit the ground cringing inside and lay still, my eyes closed. Amazingly, there was no pain. Opening my eyes the first thing I saw was a group of wicked stakes 6 inches in front of my face, two long, nasty ones were a foot from my stomach and others actually brushed my neck.

Somehow, thank God, none had punctured me. What a relief!

Then, the rod bucked in my hand. The trout was still on. Struggling to my feet I moved downstream and finally landed the devilish rainbow 10 minutes later. It was the longest, most drawn out battle of a fish this size ever and he almost defeated me … permanently!