The 5 Stages of Grief: When Your Magnet Gets Stuck

Stage 1: Denial

It's fine. Totally fine.

The magnet's not stuck. That's ridiculous. You've pulled heavier stuff than this. Remember that bike frame last month? That thing weighed a ton and you hauled it up no problem. This is nothing.

Just need a better angle, that's all. You'll step to the left a bit. Get some leverage. Physics, baby. It's all about physics.

See, the thing is, magnets don't just get stuck. Not good magnets. And yours is a good magnet. Great ratings on Amazon. Like 4.7 stars or something. Thousands of people bought this exact magnet and they're not having this problem, so clearly there's just a little snag situation happening here.

One more pull ought to do it.

Okay. One more.

The rope's making a sound you've never heard before. Kind of a creaking? That's probably normal. Ropes creak. It's what they do.

You know what, you'll just wait a minute. Let the current shift things around down there. Water moves stuff all the time. Give it sixty seconds and try again. No rush. You've got all day.

This is fine.

Stage 2: Anger

WHO PUTS A CAR IN A CANAL.

Seriously. SERIOUSLY. What kind of absolute menace to society dumps a vehicle in a public waterway and just walks away? Do they not think about the consequences? Do they not consider that someday, some innocent person with a perfectly good magnet—a GREAT magnet, actually, one of the best on the market—might come along and get their expensive gear stuck on their abandoned garbage?

No. Of course they don't think about that. Because people are THE WORST.

And another thing. Whoever designed this bridge? Terrible job. The angle is all wrong. There's no good spot to stand. The railing is in the way. Did an engineer even look at this? Did anyone consider magnet fishers when they built this thing in 1973 or whenever? Obviously not.

You know what else is frustrating? The rope. This rope that's supposedly rated for 800 pounds or whatever. Really holding up great right now. Really proving its worth. Can't even handle a little tug-of-war with a submerged Hyundai.

The sun's in your eyes now too. Perfect. Just perfect.

That guy walking his dog is staring at you. WHAT. WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, DAVE. Yeah, you look like a Dave. Mind your business, Dave.

This hobby used to be fun.

Stage 3: Bargaining

Okay. Okay okay okay. Let's think about this.

What if you tied a second rope to the first rope? Double the pulling power. That could work. You've got that backup line in the car. It's not as strong, but combined? Maybe?

Or—hear me out—what if you walked around to the other side? Changed the angle completely? The magnet might release if you pull from a different direction. That's science. Probably.

You could call someone. Derek has a truck. Derek owes you a favor from that time you helped him move. Would Derek drive forty minutes out here to help you yank a magnet out of a canal? He might. If you asked nicely. If you promised to buy him lunch.

There's a grappling hook in the garage. If you went home and got it, you could hook onto the rope underwater and pull from two points simultaneously. That's only... an hour round trip. The magnet will still be here. It's not going anywhere. Obviously.

What if you got in the water? It's not that cold. It's March, sure, but you've swam in worse. Probably. You could dive down, feel around, find whatever's got the magnet pinned and just... move it. How deep could it be? Eight feet? Ten? You can hold your breath for at least thirty seconds. That's plenty of time.

Please. Come on. Just release.

If this magnet comes free, you'll never take it for granted again. You'll check your knots every single time. You'll scout spots better. You'll be a better magnet fisher. A better person, even.

Just give you this one.

Stage 4: Depression

It's been forty-five minutes.

Your arms hurt. Your hands are raw even through the gloves. The dog-walking guy came back around and you couldn't even look at him.

That magnet was a good magnet.

You remember buying it. The excitement when the package arrived. The first time you tested it on the fridge and it nearly took the door off. All those trips. All those finds. The railroad spike from the old train bridge. The tackle box with the vintage lures still inside. That one afternoon when you pulled up three bikes in two hours and felt like a god.

Gone now. All of it, attached to something at the bottom of a canal you'll never see.

The water looks different when you're losing. Darker, maybe. More permanent. That magnet's going to sit down there for years. Decades. Some future magnet fisher might hook onto it eventually—pull up your magnet, still attached to its rope, like some kind of archaeological relic.

"Wow," they'll say. "Someone really got stuck here."

Yeah. Someone did.

You should probably pack up. The sun's getting low. Your back hurts. There's nothing left to try that you haven't tried twice already.

The rope hangs over the railing, disappearing into the murk. You could cut it. That would be the practical thing. Save the rope, at least. But cutting it feels so final. So brutal.

You'll leave it for now. Drive home. Sit with this feeling.

Maybe magnet fishing just isn't your thing anymore.

Stage 5: Acceptance

It's two days later and you're on Amazon.

The same magnet's still available. Prime shipping. You could have it by Thursday.

You know what? You're going to upgrade. Go for the 1,500-pound pull this time. Treat yourself. You've been through something.

These things happen. Every magnet fisher loses gear eventually. It's part of the deal. You throw metal into water and sometimes the water wins. That's not failure—that's just the hobby. You knew the risks when you signed up.

And honestly? That spot wasn't even that good. Too much junk on the bottom, clearly. Whoever fishes there next can deal with it. You've got a whole list of other locations to try. That park across town. The old mill pond. Your buddy mentioned a bridge near his place that's never been touched.

Fresh start.

The magnet's in your cart now. You add a new rope too—longer this time, thicker braid. And a grappling hook, just in case. Lessons learned.

Checkout.

By this time next week, you'll be back out there. Better prepared. Wiser. A little more humble, maybe, but still hooked on this weird little hobby that keeps pulling you back.

The water took one magnet. It's not getting another.

Probably.

Okay But Actually: How to Free a Stuck Magnet

Real talk—before you hit acceptance and open your wallet, try these:

• Change your angle. Walk along the bank or bridge and pull from different directions. Sometimes the magnet's just wedged and a new approach releases it.
• The slack-and-snap method. Give the rope slack, then pull sharply. The sudden jolt can pop a magnet free when steady pulling won't.
• Wait for help. Two people pulling beats one. Phone a friend, flag down a fellow fisher, whatever it takes.
• Use a grappling hook. If you can hook onto the rope or object underwater, you can pull from a second point. Game changer.
• Know when to cut. Sometimes the magnet's gone. A $40 magnet isn't worth an injury or falling in. Cut your losses—literally—and live to fish another day.