Fishing
© John Sawyer –
February 2008
You could say that I’m not really a great fan of fishing.
I probably relate to it in much the same way as Mark Twain related to
golf when he said: “Golf is a good walk spoiled.”
Hannah was certainly expecting some drama as I drove us
along the track to the secluded beach near Warrnambool. “Will the fish already
be dead when we catch them, Grandpa?”
“No Hannah, if the fish are already dead when we catch them,
they won’t be much good to eat. If we want to eat the fish, we’re going to have
to catch them alive and then kill them.” Silence, but Hannah’s eyebrows formed
themselves into their twisted caret mode (^^). She already had doubts
about her blood thirsty grandfather after her mother described me teaching
snails to fly across the road when she too was a young girl. The two minute
younger Mick was more laid back. After looking out the window for a while he
asked. “Can I hold a rod Grandpa?”
My mate who was guiding us held other expectations. “This is
a great spot to fish John. When I was a kid, we’d ride down after school and
haul them in. I’ve looked at the tide book and its high tide in about half an
hour. I reckon we’ll catch the limit easy. These pipis are great bait, just
what the fish will be feeding on”
The two of us had headed off to harvest bait at another
equally beautiful beach the day before. “This is a great spot to get bait John.
When I was a kid we’d ride down here with a bucket and spade and dig for sand
worms. All you could want in just a couple of minutes digging.” The more astute
reader will already understand that things had not gone so well with worm
hunting. We’d decided to buy frozen pipis from the local Milk Bar
instead. Perhaps I should have guessed that this evening’s exercise would
be just as unsuccessful.
We walked a kilometre to the beach and started to untangle
the fishing lines while the kids raided my rucksack for fruit bars. After just
a few minutes and one rusty fish hook jarred in the fleshy bit of my calf, we
had both lines in the water with the kid’s fingers on the nylon lines waiting
for the telltale jerk of the first bite.
“Shit we’ve got one already.” “You said the S word Grandpa.”
“Did I, Hannah?” I’d been watching the spray blown off the top of the surf and
my mind had wandered off for a bit. The twangs on the line brought me back to
reality. I looked down to young Mick who had a big grin on his face. The
budding guitarist had started to strum out “Smoke on the Water” on the taught
fishing line. Just too much temptation to resist.
I hauled in the line and started to re-bait the hooks. I’d
just removed a hook from my finger and: “This is no good here John. The crabs
are stealing the bait. I reckon we should move to that headland up there. I
reckon the crabs won’t be so bad.” My mate 
headed 400 metres up
the beach. By the time I’d harvested the sandals, jeans and drink bottles into
my rucksack and collected the bag of frozen bait and jammed it in the fishing
bag with the tide book, my mate and the kids had already set up the rods.
“Can we paddle Grandpa?” “Yes, but only up to your ankles.
Did you hear me? Just up to your ankles.” How come we
are at the beach without togs? I’m sure I made a family rule about this.
The next attempt to cast out over the beach break was pretty
unsuccessful. The tackle just made the water and 10 metres of fishing line had
neatly arranged itself into a knot that Gordian would be proud of.
“How are things?”
The beach might be secluded but not too far from SMS. I text back: “Wet!” I decided to sit and watch the
sea and the kids gambolling in the shallows up to their waists. Kids have an
attraction for water. It would be defying nature to expect them to paddle up to
their ankles.
Next time we go fishing I’ll be more efficient.
- I’ll
put the tide book in the recycling bag
- I’ll
buy frozen bait.
- I’ll
stand at the boot of the car and jam a couple of fish hooks into my skin
- I’ll
slash myself with the bait knife
- I’ll
roll some fishing line into a ball and put it straight into the rubbish
bag
- I’ll
leave the rod in the car
- As
soon as I get to the sea, I’ll empty the bait into the water
- I’ll
then sit and watch the clouds, the gulls, the spray and the kids. I’ll dig
my toes in the sand, shiver and breath the salty wind
- On
the way home we’ll buy fish and chips at the Greek’s
Yeah, that’s better.
