Simple pleasures...

Time in the summer brings little delights.
An early morning, clear sunlight shouting through the window
Pond flowers erupting into yellowness
Birds chit-chattering non-stop
Bees buzzing round the echium pininana...

A yellow moon.

This does not do justice to the enormity of this moon...

...or its brightness

Original gifts...

...and the Fisherman returns...with a bag full of mackerel, pollock and a pretty gurnard.

The Fish!

Sometimes I'm too imaginative for my own good. I really mean that.
Take today, for instance. Beautiful weather: sunny, no wind and calm seas. Perfect for kayaking. So off we went, paddling through glassy water out beyond the rocks. It was deeper there, but still calm enough to see WHAT WAS BELOW.
Sea monsters, giant water snakes, hideous creatures of The Deep, barnacle-encrusted skeletons. A dinosaur reared an ugly head just above the waves, fossilized for eternity, a snarl clearly visible on its face. We steered clear as my heart began to beat faster. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder until it was out of sight...
Unseen fingers clutched fruitlessly at the fishing lure trailing hopefully behind, the line slipping through them with barely a hesitation. Until the rod jerked, struggling against the hands deep below, attempting to drag it - and us - below the surface.
We fought, of course, the rod bending so far I feared it might snap. Slowly, carefully, patiently we reeled the line in, bringing the lure closer and closer to the kayak. We had caught A Fish. (In previous expeditions - in fact, almost in the same place - a fish named Rock put up a tremendous fight. It fought for an hour, pulling the kayak first one way, then the other, until the kayak gave up and left the (fish named) Rock on the seabed where it belonged. But this was a real fish.)
He was indeed a monster. Not quite of Jonah proportions, but with a face of nightmares. And a weight of 4lb 7oz. (That's over 2 kilograms for the metrically inclined.)
Supper.

Fishing

When we go out in the kayak, we - no, not WE, Richard or The Boy - always take the fishing rod with us.  I deny all wish to take the rod as I like paddling my kayak, not twirling round in circles as we try to disentangle the hook from Seaweed, Rocks or Fingers.  (Richard, in trying to disentangle hooks from Seaweed and Rocks while UNDERWATER also then had to disentangle his FINGER from the hooks. Underwater.  The slightly panicked yanking of hook from said finger resulted in some impressive bruising. But I digress).

The rod has, however, been useful. It has caught garfish - the same fish, twice. It jumped back on the hook a dozen metres further down the channel. Masochistic fish, garfish.  The rod has caught pollock - grey, slightly fatty fish - better than no supper at all, but not much.  The rod has also caught rock. Wow, that was a big one. The boys were out in the kayak for 4 hours fighting this gigantic fish until eventually they realised that it was, indeed, truly and honestly ROCK.  So at one with the sea bed that there was no separating it.

The epic fight with Rock didn't put them off trying again. Success. A magnificent bass.  Promptly taken home, placed reverentially on the barbeque and eaten for supper.

Fishing

A beautiful evening in the kayak yesterday. There was almost no wind and the sea was glassy calm in places. There was some swell, and a little rip along the coast, so as we came in we almost seemed to surf along on top of the waves.

We also caught a garfish. Twice. The same one. Apparently they do that - bizarre, stupid or what? Fortunately, he jumped off the hook without too much trouble.

Apart from Mr G, we caught lots and lots of seaweed, despite steering a zigzag course to avoid it.

Fun.

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.