She whooped me again at our favorite lake. The wind was ferocious, forty plus mph(sorry for the word shortcut old timers), and spotting fish with white caps was difficult to impossible. At one point waves were hitting a big rock and shooting spray high into the air much like the ocean. That actually happened to be the rock enlightened took here best fish standing on, a gorgeous pastel pink cut of around twenty five inches. I had chases and one or two brief hookups, but was schooled by my protege'. We stopped at Rufus on the way home and I somewhat redeemed myself with a ugly little hatchery brat,but not quite. Different fish in the pics, minutes apart. Then the last pic is what a bad fishing partner looks like when they're gloating up on the hill, realizing we're calling it quites when the other partner hasn't landed one. I believe it's called satisfaction.?