Fishing

The weather all weekend was fantastic - and I do mean fantastic, as in unbelievable. The end of September, yet it was warm, sunny, the sea was calm and there was almost no wind. People sat on the beach, swam in the sea.

We took the kayak out.

As always, we journey in hope with a fishing rod and a line. In truth, I'd almost rather not go with it: we have to be wary of shallow water as the hook catches on the rocks. There is a myriad of rocky islets along our coast, varying with the state of the tide.

Occasionally, the rod bends and we get excited. Usually the hook has deftly caught some attractive seaweed.

Yesterday, we failed to catch significant chunks of weed. Instead, we caught fish. 3 times in an hour and a half: that's pretty good for a fisherman and his wife. 3 pollock, the largest weighing almost two pounds, landed in our little kayak. 2 came home with us and jumped straight into the frying pan.














Generous as ever, we shared with Mpira. Initially suspicious, he carefully lifted up one of the discarded heads and carried it away to eat at his leisure. He is not a dog who buries bones, preferring instead to choose his dining area. It did not take long to convert him to the taste of fish.


















He sits and gazes with longing at the kayak, now hanging in the garage, waiting for the next fishing trip.

It might be a long time before we catch any more.