I had the pleasure ( ?) of meeting Albert MacReynolds whilst trout fishing back in the 80's in Spectacle Pond in Sandwich one cold March day. He came down to the waters edge with his tribe in tow to inquire how the fishing was and "Oh, by the way do you know who I am?" at that very moment, my new Gralite waders, which I noticed were getting very stiff the deeper I waded into the just after ice out water, cracked open from crotch to the knee on my right leg. (Talk about shrinkage).
Anyway, after enduring what seemed like an eternity of the tale of his epic (?) battle with the world record and fearing I would never see my manhood again if I didn't get into a warm truck an get home as soon as possible, I bid adieu to Mr. MacReynolds and his lovely family and left what was possibly the most bizarre encounter I have ever had while fishing ( except for a noted tournament caster who an also noted rod manufacturer makes a series of blanks in his name running full tilt across a flooded marsh not to say "hello, how are you" but to give me a catalog that was stuffed in his waders along with several others from that noted rod manufacturer while I was peacefully casting flies to bass in the creek in the middle of that marsh and also how does a casting champion become a surfcasting champion? But that's another story)
But I digress, knowing people familiar with the time place and people, there is a pall of, shall we say, mystery as to the real events of the day. Only time will reveal who is telling the real story.
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