We had roast roadkill pheasant (not peasant. They are revolting, no matter how well they are hung) for our tea, along with Cape Barron Goose breast - a fitting end to our day. It looks like we're about to buy an elderly mark IV hypalon skinned Zodiac (hopefully missing the sign of water-carrier, and with the sign of the fish present - but probably the other way around.) A suitable motor will have to follow one day.
Then this morning Pete took delivery of his tri-hull, and at his rather bloody-minded mate's Dave insistence, we launched it at Whitemark in the mizzle and chop, with the former owner and did a very wet and bumpy ride and then came back to a slightly 'interesting' extraction from the water with a good supply of slopping waves and a vehicle sans hand-brake. Anyway, I did manage to do a hasty dash and hook-up, and we pulled it out fine. Only haste having been the operative word I should have either taken my boots off, or worn waders... There was no time for balancing on the shaft. My gumboots were full of nice cold water to go splart-splart as I ran. And I did run. The truck was doing a slow creep against the compression.
And tonight we venture on our first of the turkeys.