Where are you fishes - Weekend experience.

in #weekend3 months ago (edited)

Saturday night.

I was prepared to have a night of nothing but beers and gaming. I had poured myself a glass of beer and settled on the couch booting my laptop when the phone buzzed next to me.

Who could this be?

The name showed it was my nephew on the other line.

Uncle.

I was surprised by the lateness of his call. It was already half past ten in the evening.

Yes? I responded nonchalantly, hiding my apprehension.

Do you want to go fishing?

When!? I responded very excitedly without meaning to.

Tonight.

Oh... Hmmm... Where?

Mosman.

I looked at my beer thinking I can continue drinking while holding a fishing rod.

How are going to get there?

You drive us?

I think short and hard.

Ok, sure. I'll pick you up in half an hour.

We ended the call and I proceeded to sculled the be down, the cold precipitation not even managing to dampen the little side table by the couch. Closed the laptop and packed what I would be needing. Quick and easy since he has all the gear with him.

Not sure if it was excitement or the drive was just very fast but even before I could think about anything I might have forgotten I had arrived at his door. The screen door unlocked and the lights on. No sign of him.

Tom? I called out as I open good fridge door looking for a beer. No I was not going to drink now, and yes it's while we are fishing.

He scrambles downstairs and frantically starts organising all the gear we will both need.

We'll get bait along the way, yes? He asks as he is tearing through his already battle field mess of a garage, adding more rubble.

It didn't take long. We were on our way the next few minutes. Excitement in his voice as we chat while driving.

It was not a long drive and pretty much uneventful bar the cos roaming around the streets patrolling. Not over the limit but just want to avoid any delays.

The walk down the rocks at Taylor's Bar was dark and precarious with all our gear. Four rods in total. Tackle, some baits. Drinks of water and Sake. It was not a full bottle so I was not going to drive back drunk or over the limit when we call it a night.

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We were careful on the rocks, between each separate blocks. Littered with oysters puck marking nearly all the surface. My shoes crunched on their sharp edges.

We quickly get one rod prepped and I took the honors. Bait loaded I cast off into the moonlit waters. An audible plop echoes. Only the possums scampering and the of owl hooting broke the nights silence. The bay waters calm.

A bite. I reel it in.

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Nice! A decent sized Whiting.

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Fish in the esky we continued fishing.

Three hours later.

Hmmm... No bites at all... I lament under my breath.

We had cast off and fed the fishes, chatting all the while quietly into the early morning. No other catch and the fishes all being full in the guts we both agreed to reach other.

I heaved hard to cast further and outwards to get into deeper waters. Bad cast. It goes into the right side of me behind some rocks. I decide to get closer to prevent any snags.

It's dark. Rod in hand. I make out the outline of a separate rock. It looks solid and firm
I step. My shoe slips. I fall backwards. With cat like reflexes I kick out with my left foot onto the side of the rock I'm stepping off from to brace myself from falling into the water. Hands used as a brace also. Rod still in hand.

My legs strain and there is a searing pain. My right foot slips some more. I plant my hand firmer. Utter failure. Shoes and socks are drenched in salt water.

I get up onto another rock. Not the one I had slipped on. Legs wet. I get the phone light on to check myself.

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I toss my phone to my nephew to shine the light on my legs because I found it hard to see.

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Hmmm.. Now I can say I got more than one this night. I sighed excitedly.

Well now we can say, we'll remember this night, for sure. My nephew laughs. I join him.

Four AM we pack up our gear and head back to the car. The drive took an hour to get him dropped off home. I told him to keep the fish.

By the time I pulled into the driveway the birds were already chirping. I stagger into bed, legs throbbing same bloody, meeting something about damned fishes as the world fades to black.

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