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