It was late summer back in the 70s
I was fly fishing on a remote lake in Wales
a solo outing in a small boat
fitted with a small outboard motor
I knew the area well
the big lake was very deep and cold
I was fishing the evening rise
when the trout feed on hatching insects
I loved the solitude
no other fishermen on the lake that evening
the flat calm water would explode
as trout jumped to drown hatching flies
I watched the sunset over the mountains
darkness would soon follow
it had been a fun fishing session
time to head to the shore
I wrapped the pull cord around the motor top plate
one sharp pull and she roared up
I turned her to the shore
a cool breeze in my face
suddenly the boat stopped with a jerk
the engine died instantly
the stern was hanging low
I knew I had hit something
I tried to tilt the engine up
but the boat almost capsized
I could see something on the propellor
a discarded anchor rope
I had to think fast as the boat was now tied to the lake bottom
no cell phones existed back then
no way to signal for help from the middle of a remote lake
getting into the water was too risky
I did not want to spend the cold night in the middle of the lake
I took out my fishing knife
lashed it to the pole of my landing net
pulling the motor up slightly with one hand
guiding the pole under water with the other
the nylon rope was very tough
my arms were screaming in pain
after maybe twenty minutes of cutting the rope severed
the back of the boat popped up instantly
I was in a cold adrenalin sweat
I quickly cleared the strands from the propellor
headed for the shore in relief
using the familiar dark mountain peaks for navigation
it was fully dark when I pulled the boat up onto the shore
I loaded up my gear and the freshly caught trout
heading for the safety of home in my car
reflecting on how I had just escaped a potential tragedy
moments like this remind you how fragile life can be