The Missus Goes Fishing - By the Missus
Believe it or not the Missus has been known to go fishing. Way back in the early days (well not really that far back, twenty years or so!) when the Missus was younger and in the first throws of love she went fishing on a serious scale with her man.
The very first time she went fishing, future hubby obligingly took his two female flat mates out to introduce them to the joys of mackerel fishing. Off they went, complete with bait, berley, mackerel lines for the little ladies, and what was back then the latest and greatest, a flash Albagraph and little Millionaire 6HM for the mighty hunter. His brand new Coleman lantern added the icing to the tackle cake.
After carefully baiting up the lines with tiny bits of squid he demonstrated the technique of threading the line up through his fingers in a gentle jigging motion, a sharp tug on the line when fish nibbled the bait and with a quick flick of the wrist a mackerel lay flapping on the deck. Sounds easy eh.
Unfortunately the poor little fish lay gasping and flapping between the two females, one who screeched and could not get away from it quick enough (not the future missus) and the other who shall remain nameless tried to catch it to put the poor little attempted murder victim back in the sea muttering about cruelty to poor little creatures who must be suffering an agonizing death. The slippery little critter evaded the would be St Frances Patron Saint of Animals only to be grabbed by the mighty hunter, have its head whacked on the deck and chucked unceremoniously into the fish bin.
“How could you!!! YOU, YOU @*##!* murderer”. The look of astonishment on the mighty hunters face was replaced quickly with a stern expression as with words of one syllable or less he explained the fishing facts of life to the girls, and threatened no fishing ever again. He explained that hitting fish on the head stunned them, so no pain. A feeling the females were obviously both familiar with as they equally obviously had no brains themselves.
Seeing as how the girls could disassociate tiny lovable lambs gamboling in fields with Monday night’s favorite lamb chops, the girls hardened their hearts against the poor little fish and got on with fishing. They all caught fish and then after a while future Hubby kept hauling them in but the girls didn’t. By that stage the girls were baiting up their own hooks and - no joy. Future hubby had stopped to watch what they were doing, “Why are you girls using such huge hunks of squid?”
The girls thought it would be obvious, bigger bait, bigger fish! Future hubby just sniggered and never said a word, just rubbed it in about how men were always better fishermen than women. Much later on the future missus learned that small bait is best for small fish, however the girls had the last laugh, when the fishing expedition was over the mighty hunter put his hot lantern down by the driver’s door of the car to cool down while the car was loaded up with the gear. He pulled out and ....CRUNCH, he ran straight over his new lantern! He picked up what looked like a flat modern art wall hanging. The girls laughed till they cried and all the way home a strange muttering came from the front seat, I think it was “Shut up, just shut up”
The missus married her fisherman and progressed from bait fish to surf casting fish. Joining WSAC the happy couple started to fish the shore competitions as a pair. Out to the rocky coast they climbed over heaps of rocks at low tide to the secret snapper possie. Nothing happened except the tide slowly came in. An interesting phenomena occurred, rising tide, rising panic from the missus, “Can we go now?.....Can we go now......? Ah excuse me sweetheart the tides coming in”
“Just one more cast, I know the buggers are out here, look, stop hanging off my swannie, we are fine GRRR@#@**#@!!”
“Please can we go now” The missus wailed looking at twenty feet of foaming white water covering the rocks. Several last cast promises later “All right, all right we’ll go now” He took the pack, the rods and timed the waves and nimbly hopped over several rocks. Peering through the gathering gloom at his terrified missus clinging to her rock with a death grip his voice came floating eerily over the crashing waves. “You’re fine, when I say jump, you jump across those first three rocks, I’ll guide you from there .OK?...GO”
The missus scrambled, slipped and stumbled and made it. Suddenly a huge foaming wave swept in and she was up to her waist in water screeching blue murder. “Don’t move” yells hubby, “if you fall you’ll be washed away!” On that comforting note the missus froze so that not even the lure of a $50000.00 shopping spree would have budged her. The water receded and her feet didn’t even touch the ground till she hit the beach. “You #@*##@* bastard don’t ever do that to me again” she sniffled as she squelched to the car.
“What, What I do? That was nothing, just a little tidal movement!”
Next comp saw the missus on rocks again but this time it was an out crop attached firmly to dry land. No more tidal movement for this missus. Hubby set up his two graphite rods with his Shimano reels and cast out. The missus waited patiently for a hand to rig up her Shimano Baitfeeder on her old but faithful Kilwell Customline rod. “Just changing baits again sweetie, I’ll be with you in a minute”
Ten minutes later muttering under her breath the missus thought to herself Stuff You I’ll just do it my self. He didn’t even notice as she helped herself to the bait, hooks, and sinkers then slipped away over the rocks to the beach. A couple of granny knots later, and half a pilchard dangling precariously off the hook she cast out and waited and waited and waited, hopefully holding the line between the reel and the first guide so she didn’t miss a nibble.
By now hubby having noted her absence and having the rock to himself was going hammer and tongs casting rebaiting checking etc. The missus thought to herself 'I’ll just bet hubby was pleased not to have to nurse maid me. Probably thought the beach was the safest place for me as I wouldn’t catch anything anyway when.....Oh my God, her reel gave a screaming run and the rod bent almost double, not hard considering that her maximum casting distance must have been all of twenty feet out.
Hyperventilating with excitement she remembered everything, flick the bail arm over, take the rod out of spike and WHACK she had hooked something! The rod was by now twisting in her hands and clinging to it forgot all about the pump up wind down theory and just hung on, grinding furiously on the poor reel screaming “I got something, I got something”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see a flabbergasted hubby looking from her to his rods and obviously decided he better come and help. Grabbing the gaff he clambered over the rocks and sprinted up the beach yelling instructions which went in one ear and out the other. Twenty minutes later a HUGE conger eel lay on the beach weighing in at 12 kg! Hubby congratulated her and mid sentence, out of the corner of his eye, saw both his rods now forty feet away, bent almost double with both reels screaming.
“Oh *#@*” he yelled as he put in an Olympic record sprint!! Oh Dear, he lost both fish and flavor of the month was definitely not the Missus.
That night tucked up in bed, the missus rolled over, wrapped her arms around hubby and whispered “Catching that conger was awesome, when can we go fishing again??' Hubby replied with one brief sentence.
“Well, there’s no need to be like that!!!!” the missus replied in a huff to his cold shoulder.
The End
