Hungry Girl Goes Fishing by Mandi Leigh

My belly rumbled in the wee, still dark hours of the morning. “I’m hungry,” I thought. I had eaten a potato for dinner the night before, and there was a potato at the bottom of a dwindling sack in the cupboard awaiting me for breakfast.

I was too proud to reach out to my parents for a $20 bill for groceries. How would I get the money, anyway? They were 200 miles away, and it was 2002, before the era of cell phones with instant cash sharing apps.

I received a scholarship to Northern Arizona University (NAU) for being the first person in my family to go to college, and I was living on campus in a dorm with other young women. Most of my dorm mates had a paid for meal ticket, but I lay hungry in my bunk with 1½ pound of potatoes to my name…and a fishing rod in the trunk of my car.

My dad had taken me fishing more times than I can count in my youth. We went shore fishing at several urban lakes in the greater Phoenix area and on occasion went to Lake Pleasant. I loved it, and fishing quickly became my favorite hobby that I shared with dad.  Every year, my birthday gift would include a fishing license and a little tackle to add to my collection. When I interviewed for the scholarship to NAU, I remember being embarrassed that I spouted off something about wanting to try fishing the lakes around Flagstaff. I guess my blurted comment didn’t bother the interview panel.

It wasn’t even 5AM, and my grumbling belly was ready to go trout fishing.  I drove my 1988 Honda Accord about 16 miles down Lake Mary Road to Ashurst Lake.  The graded dirt road was well enough for my little car to safely get to my favorite fishing spot at the lake.

The peace that comes over a young woman sitting on the edge of the quiet lake is priceless. The birds sing as they wake. The rock squirrels peer in and out of the cracks between boulders. Bald eagles and osprey soar over the water waiting for the opportunity to dive after a fish. For a moment, the hunger gone, and all is well, even if not one fish is caught.

The peace turned to excitement with a tug on my corn-baited hook. Fish on! I reeled in the beautiful silvery trout with a gorgeous rainbow stripe down the side. I celebrated alone and said a quick thank you to the fish before putting it in the water on the inexpensive stringer. Fortunately, I almost bagged the limit for trout in just a few hours and headed back to the dorm to clean and cook the fish.

I wish I could say my dorm mates were appreciative of my efforts. They were not. I was the girl that cleaned fish in the community dorm sink and made the entire hall reek of pan fried trout and potatoes at the breakfast hour.  My satisfied and grateful belly was not bothered by their comments, as I thought about which lake I would go to next week?