We didn't mean to go to sea... or at least I didn't think I was off into the wild blue yonder, and not for so long. I got a call from Greg inviting me to come fishing for Stripy trumpeter, and as the cardinal rule around here is if get an offer, accept, and it may come up again,if they like you. If you refuse, it won't. So as we'd only had a few scraps - and previously frozen- of what is supposed to be Tasmania's premium fish, I said yes thank you very much. Until you've done this sort of thing, you just don't know what is involved. I should have done more homework. I assumed it was the two - or maybe three - in Greg's dingy. Well, the boat we went in was 25 foot long, and had two 150 hp motors, and cruised at 53km/h. And it had all the bells, and whistles, and then some whistles on the bells and bells on the whistles, and a bigger screen for it's GPS and depth finder than my computer screen and there were four of us... and we went 30km off-shore to the 70 metre mark... well to a reef we never really found at 70 metres. Anyway, there we were at 70 metres fishing with penn-type reels and braided lines... and catching gurnard (which I've caught in 3 metres with a handline. Those rods and reels are hard work with fish at 70 metres and a brick on the end of your line... and sometimes even a fish too. We caught - for all that trip... two. I got the bigger one in the picture. It was 60 cm and weighed over 3kg, but that's not that vast! Anyway, the dolphin were magnifcent -until one managed to get snagged in someone's line, frantic uplines and following it to free it (it wasn't hooked, just tangled a loop around it's tail). I hope it was OK, poor beastie.
That was followed by coming inshore and diving - which was more successful. Got our quota.
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