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Wednesday, 5 June 2013

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My Father’s Father taught me how to whistle and what an oyster catcher is.


Grandad’s headstone looks out over the spot where I caught my first fish. I was fishing with my first fishing rod combo – a nice little two-piece rod set, designed for trout fishing; using a black and gold toby, I landed three little yellow-eyed mullets. The strength of the little guys surprised me – I thought the fish on the end of my line were much bigger until out of the water.

I think my idea of heaven would be endless coast and rivers to explore, with suitable fishing spots every now-and-then... and hanging out with my family, obviously... 


On Saturday, while taking a walk down the beach and around the end of the spit with the cemetary, I noticed a large tidal pool on the beach side of the channel that flows into the mudflats. I always like to take a look to see if anything has been trapped in a tidal pool. Approaching, I thought I saw a couple of fins in the water, but I’ve been tricked by kelp too often to get too excited. There isn’t much kelp around here, though.


The pool was shallow, and as I came nearer, a stringray swam towards me. He was quite unafraid, slowly cruising along the water’s edge, perhaps to satisfy his curiousity. The rising tide would connect him with the rest of the water before too long.

The sand dunes have been getting eroded over the years. The end of the spit looks quite different now, compared to when I was young. One spot used to have a small old run-down building on it; this got burnt down somehow years ago, but even the land and nearby trees where it stood have now been washed away.