Because the winds were light tonight, I just had to light up the heap on our block before the restricted fire season came into play, so I have struggled a little to meet this week’s article deadline, now late into the night. Having said that, those of you that live on the land know it is quite enjoyable watching all those branches and debris you have been piling up for the last few months disappear into the cosmos and then of course we create a new pile to reduce our fuel loads and minimise the risks associated with bush fires, until the next season.
So here I go. Last weekend we had a nice catch up with some friends, Caroline, Nigel and others, on their verandah overlooking Gracetown and inevitably the discussion, or rather stories, turned to fishing. I was holding court for a while, when Nigel came up with a beauty. This group, by their own admission, are not hard core fishos, actually, not really fishos at all, but when their friends turned up a few weeks previously and asked if Nigel could take them fishing, how could he say no and admit to his elementary skills, especially given they had a holiday house within a stone throw from the ocean. Intelligently, he organised what would normally be an easy, pleasant fishing trip, catching herring off the beach. Fortunately the visitors had their own fishing rods and basic gear which took the pressure off immediately. Down the beach they headed, armed with their gear, good attitude and I believe some ‘refreshments’ as well. Now one of the visitors was struggling to cast and so Nigel, as any good host would do and as some fishos believe, was offering constant advice that he needed to cast much further out, even though lots of fish actually stay in close to shore. The visitor was not following the offered advice, so Nigel decided take a more proactive approach, asserting his local knowledge and took the rod off his visitor to cast it into the ocean depths. Unfortunately, so vigorous was the cast, that the two piece rod parted in the middle, with the front half heading off into the ocean depths, along with the terminal tackle. Nigel, without hesitation or forethought and keen to regain his status, immediately plunged into the water to retrieve the equipment. By this time we were all having a great laugh and were reticent to tell him that as the rod was still connected to the line and tackle, he could have just reeled it back in. Anyway, Nigel soon returned to shore, dripping wet, triumphantly holding the rod for all to see, only to realise that his new mobile phone was now demised and he had some serious explaining to do to his boss. But all ended well, as they brought home four or five herring and have a story to tell for some years to come.