The mystery of the missing screw, and other tales

The return of the prodigal screw! At almost 1.5 mm long the screw that held my right hand lens into the very extinguished looking glasses had been much hunted for. You can't just pop of to the optician here - A jiffy-tie had done temporary duty, but it really was rather worrying. Now, from places unknown - possibly the kabouter in the garden I spotted it on my desk. There really is a good reason for having visible wood on a desk - good thing I tidied it a bit for our visitors. Now... to get back in.

I took our young visitors to the jetty early this morning. Aedan started fishing while I was still experiencing the joys of taking youths fishing. All adults really need to have basic ghillie training, and fortunately their mum is a quick study at it too. So as I was cutting up the second bait we get air-raid shriek. "I got one, I got one, I got one!"

It was a pretty cloudy morning up to that point.

Soon Brigit and her mum (and the entire cheerleader team, including me) were dealing with this one.



I broke the necks as I always do in the absence of a priest, and turned away while doing so, to not horrify my audience (they're lovely kids, but well, they're from the city) but Brigit peered round me - Her 'it's bleeding!' sounded more like delight than horror, and it certainly didn't stop her trying for another one. We forget that largest primitive tribe - AKA kids learn a lot from our reactions.



Their mum was looking after my rod while I did the ghillie's next job - untangling, and all her hard work was rewarded by a double hook-up (I fish a paternoster rig for these - but one hook is bad enough with new little fishermen). Much excitement and me nearly falling off the hanging tire I was precariously balancing on with the net, and we had both. The downside with a paternoster rig of course is if you go to net the lowest fish the top one is airborne, and if you net the highest, the other is likely to break off.

But by 9.00 AM the great fisher-people were back (After some brave gutting by the 9 year old. By 9 I'd been gutting fish for 4 years, and it didn't occur to me that if you haven't really caught fish gutting might be quite an experience... dangerous with knives!) Anyway - they've gone off island touring and we're catching up a bit, assauging my concience with some work.

I can so fish!

Having been on 3 squid catching expeditions, and watched the others catch, while my jig came back empty, I decided that my role was to run with the net, when necessary, and be supportive. Well, last night I caught a big squid, quite big enough to make up for all the ones who got away. And boy, did I dance a jig on the jetty! Luckily Dave was the only person around to see.

Then this morning we rose with the dawn, not too bad on the clock due to daylight saving, and went to fish, again off the jetty. I caught a big Pike, or Snook, or at least big by my standards. (Certainly the biggest fish I have ever landed.) Picture the scene. I am wearing gumboots, denims, 2 jackets, and a woolly hat jumping around yelling "Bring the net! It is huge! You take it! It is huge!"

Despite all the noise, the fish did not take fright, Dave made me take the rod, and he got it safely into the net. Which proves that our son, James, is wrong. You can take a net with you and still catch fish! Unfortunately, we are not fond of the taste of the pike, but smoked they are delicious, so Dave has now the extra work of preparing it!

He, of course, caught 3 fish, 2 silver trevally, that we were actually targeting, and a goat fish. It is red and has a beard, what more can I say?

At least I am not a total passenger in this new lifestyle of ours, and mine was the biggest!

More Fish

This'll have to be brief as I am trying to sort out the map for MUCH FALL OF BLOOD my alternate-history fantasy set in a renaissance that never happened. While the geography of Valahia (Wallachia) and Transylvania is much the same a lot of town names have changed. I tried to use the correct ones for the time - and now I have to make sure all of them in the correct places on the map. There are some downsides to being as accurate as possible.
Anyway, I must give the Silver Trevally an emphatic thumbs up, just plain grilled so I can pick up and learn the flavours as much as possible. I read that the colour of the flesh and fattyness of it varies a lot - that's something people really need to bear in mind with fish. Unless a fish species has a very narrow diet their taste will be influenced by the local foods they eat, just as the bloke who had garlic for for dinner last night smells (and probably tastes - never tried and hope I never do) of garlic, and cultured prawns or salmon just don't have the flavour of the wild ones. So if you really, really want to get picky about your fish it matters what species it is and how it was caught, and where it is from. Whitemark pier Trevally are great eating with a very recognisable and distinct flavour, almost 'gamey' and sort hint of lemony-ness to the flesh, nicely textured, and succulent. It'd be a waste to smoke it or disguise it.
The other fish we ate tonight was a present, 'flake'. I'm sorry but it ranks with trawler caught hake - edible, reasonable texture and in no way unpleasant. But dull compared to Flathead or the trevally.

Barrack-room ballad?

"So who'd yer barrack for?" Asked Jimmy.
This is the sort of question that leaves me wondering about my military discharge. Anyway - B was being asked. "Er."
"Yer can't barrack for no-one. Only woosies do that. Even barracking for the wrong team - his (Gesture with a thumb at inferior brand on cooler bag (esky?)) is better n'that.
"That's support a side?"
"Yeah. Look..." and the merits of two Ozzie rules sides are discussed, with loyalty and suitable disdain while the two ex-South Africans try not look like Americans having cricket explained to them. Thank heavens for cricket, and B's following of it... and through my mind goes the US possibilities for this. Do two service-men who have an argument about politcs ending in a bout of fisticuffs explain to their C.O.... "He was barracking for Barack in the barracks."

Anyway -last night we went to Wespac do to relaunch their brand on Flinders. It was rather pleasant hearing bank executives telling a rural patch of farmers that they realised they'd made a horse's butt out of getting away from having local bank managers etc. In my dreams would you get a South African Bank doing that - for all that it is also true. Anyway - Snacks and drinks, and meeting some more locals. It had a very low attendance for anything in RSA that had an open bar. I swapped some good lies with 'Roo' who looks to be mine of information about the fishing/diving history of this island - from the scallop fishery to tending sheep on the outer islands. And this morning dawn saw us trying out another tip-off about silver Trevally. I must say, on light tackle - and they are REAL light tackle fish - sneaky and very quick to snaffle your bait as lightly as any pickpocket, they are remarkably good fighting fish. Tonight we'll see if they eat well.