The Fish That Got Away...

I went fishing last night for the first time in probably 10 years. The caravan park we're at has a little jetty directly opposite the entrance, which juts out into the mighty Clarence river. Well, "mighty" is a relative term - it's nice and wide, but even at high tide, I believe you could walk 95% of the way across without getting wet over your waist. Obviously the channel is wide, but it's certainly not deep. It'd be about 300m wide where we are I reckon.

I am not much of a fisherman. I like the *idea* of fishing (sitting quietly, watching to world go by, waiting for the possibility of a big fish hitting your line) but have never been that mad keen. I always liked going fishing with my dad and/or brother and/or mates when I was younger, but somehow it's just not been an important part of my life recently.

Cutting a long story short, I got a nice rod and reel combo for Christmas this year (very practical and nice idea, given we're travelling) so I set about catching a fish. Off I toddled at about 10.30pm last night, onto the pier. High tide about 11.15pm, I figured I'd fish either side of the high tide, just like my dad taught me. It took me all of about 3 seconds to realise that I forgot the insect repellant, and I counted 14 (no, really) mosquitoes on one leg. After a quick trip back to the van (100 metres away) I went back to hook me a big fish. I had my little el-cheapo foldy-uppy chair, a bucket, my tackle box (also part of the present), my packet of prawn bait, and my torch.

I got no bites for half an hour or so (apart form the mosquitoes, who had an amazing ability to find any square millimetre of flesh not slathered in repellant - but they don't count), then after feeling something nibbling at my bait, I hooked my first fish on my first strike, on the first cast of my new rod. Most impresive, I thought. I reeled it in, and got it onto the jetty. At this point of time, my panic/amazement/unco-ness got the better of me, and I managed to break the chair when I jumped up to my feet. This sent me flat on my ass, rod in hand, fish flapping in the breeze, and the chair ended up a mangled mess on the ground. I jumped to my feet, kicking the chair to one side, at which point the fish jumped off the hook, and started flapping on the pier. This fish was obviously trained in some kind of survival skills, since it headed straight for the cover of the now defunct chair. I ripped the chair out of the way, just in time to see Mr. Fish flip neatly into the gap between the boards which made up the walkway of the pier, and with a gentle "plop", he was back to his mates, off to swim another day.

I figure I have 2 consolations - firstly, it was only a small fish - a 15ish centimetre Bream, and I would have thrown it back anyhow. I really would have liked to have been the one who chose to throw it back though - not sure what that says about me and/or my personality. I would have been seriously cranky if it was pan-sized, I can tell you. Secondly, I'm lucky they don't have security video on the pier - or maybe unlucky, as I'm sure my performance - although unplanned - would do well on the funniest home video show.

Fishing. It's a way of life.