When business collides with pleasure

The plan was simple enough. Fish. The trouble was the planning to head into Fortress Lake, waiting for ice to shed, our schedules completely topsy turvey the past week. I'd set in stone that I was fishing Wednesday. I found myself staring into the computer screen, emails coming in. We're also in the process of selling our house and there has been a ton of activity on it, and we were on call for the afternoon. But, the clouds were rolling in. Clouds meant hatches. Good hatches. I knew that I could go fishing and likely get called home before I cast, or stay home and never know. To the river.
Within 30 minutes I managed to drive to a favorite bank, walk down and across, and came upon two browns cycling a flat between two submerged boulders 15 yards apart. The fish were only about 10 feet apart. The plan was simple - time the cycle to get in position at the tailout to work the lower fish before it came back to the tailout. A gimmie, really, as far as trout go. I pulled line from the reel and was flipping it out to cast when the phone began ringing. Bugger. Naturally it was tucked in my pant pocket, under my waders. My wader belt was tucked under my pack belt. In the process of scrambling to get to my phone, I dropped my rod in the water at the exact time the lower trout rose literally 5 feet from my left knee, and the other fish rose about 15 feet away, up from my right knee. I got the call and the house is moving, but the fish! The fish were gone. They never came back.
A cell came in quickly and the hatch literally stopped. But there were two fish cycling up on another flat 100 yards up the bank. I walked up and followed them upstream as they finished the last of the duns on the water. I tried to get into position before they reached the head of the run and cycled down, but couldn't. I watched their last rises for the hatch, and they simply stopped feeding on top. I never saw them again.
Amelia again called to let me know that we'd have to get together with our realtor sooner than planned. I had an hour. I walked up and across the river. Luckily, the hatch was coming off in droves on the next bank and came upon a nice brown going to town. Ahhh, another gimmie. This time, I played the smart guy, tucking the phone in my waders' front pouch, leaving it open. No doubt what would happen. And it did. I cast 3 casts and hooked up. As I hooked up and the fish took its first run, the phone rang again. Beautiful. I tucked the phone to my ear and talked to Amelia for a moment, not really worried about whatever was going to happen as the exciting part was already accomplished. But, for kicks I told her I was hooked up. And, as I positioned the phone to talk as she had an update, I jammed the reel knob into my pack harness as the fish bolted, snapping the tippet.
I've not ever had a tele in my pocket while fishing. I only had it with me to deal with selling our house. If you are on the Red Deer R this summer and you hear a phone ring, it won't be mine. Never again.