Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Coffin Bay

We arrived at Coffin Bay yesterday and were immediately greeted by a kangaroo and her joey. A very nice start. Finn had decided that Coffin Bay National Park looked pretty much like the Coorong, which he wasn't saying as a compliment. I think he meant that, like where we stayed in the Coorong, there was no playground, pool or jumping cushion. Just nature. On that score he was right, but to the rest of us, Coffin Bay immediately looked far more appealing. The only real downside appeared to be that just a few days ago, somebody was eaten by a shark here. Well, two sharks so it seems. Great White Pointers. Tori has been nervous going in to the water ever since Jaws, which incidentally had the more gruesome real shark footage shot around here. It was scant comfort for her to learn that there have been four shark attack fatalities in the last 10 years in South Australia, especially when those fatalities occurred in Glenelg and West Beach (where we just were) and around Port Lincoln/Coffin Bay, where we are now. It's a pretty safe bet that she won't be getting into the water around here. As it turns out, Yangie Bay where we are staying isn't really a swimming beach. It's much more of a place to fish. And so, we decided that it was time for us to have a crack. Santa brought fishing rods for Christmas, a first for all of us, so it was bound to be interesting. My only previous attempts at fishing have been either on a drunken whim, usually following an all night drinking session, or with an experienced fisherman who actually knows what he's doing. This time it was up to me to be the expert, or to be more accurate, the blind leading the blind. And so with our virginal rods and newly acquired fishing knives and accessories, we headed off down the sandy 4WD track to our chosen fishing spot. A beautifully picturesque side of Yangie Bay where the fish were clearly abundant as we could see them periodically leaping out of the water. Large silver fish that looked like they would be only too happy to come along and land themselves on the end of our lines. On arriving at our chosen spot, it became apparent that I'd forgotten to bring the tackle box containing the hooks, sinkers and so forth and had to go back and get it. Clearly not a great start. And it all went downhill from there. Who would have thought that it could be so difficult to actually get a hook, a little swivelly think and a tiny metal ball attached to the end of a piece of nylon. Just so fiddly. After what seemed ages, we got one rod into action and cast off into the water. All seemed good, but on reeling it in, it just became a tangled mess. Tori spent the next half hour untangling it. The next rod was a similar story. How could something that seemed like it should be so simple prove so difficult? As the afternoon wore on, we started to have some slight improvement and actually were getting a line into the water. Unfortunately, around this time the seagulls cottoned on to the fact that there was a free feed on offer and moved on in. The closest I came to catching anything was reeling in a seagull mid air as he was flying off with my bait. Hook and all.
A tangled mess was all that resulted and that pretty much called a halt to the afternoon's fishing expedition. Thank god we're not stuck on a desert island. We'd starve for sure on this form. Nevertheless, it was universally agreed that as disastrous as our fishing day was, at least we weren't playing golf. Everybody agreed that we should have another go tomorrow and perhaps we'd have a bit more luck. In the meantime, we retired back to the campsite for the loser fisherman's customary dinner of canned beans. At least we were consoled by a family of emus who wandered through the campsite. On the whole, fish or no fish, it had been a very nice day.

3 comments:

Marion said...

Enjoying the posts. Ahem, yes, sharks.
Not sure if you knew this but my parents first met in the 50's, in Ceduna. Dad was a pilot for the flying doctors and Mum was the hospital pharmarcist..the only one for thousands of klms. No sealed roads in those days.
Anway..I say this by way of the fact that Dad had many many trips over the coast in light aircraft and there were always plenty of great whites off that coast. Not wanting to freak you out or anything. They like the cold Southern Ocean down there for some reason.
keep on posting..

Joanne said...

Hope you are here when we are. Dion has been having fishing lessons compliments of BHP, senior citz and a youth program. He caught 9 fish yesterday and now knows the spots to go to. Rhyanna's boyfriend is also our resident expert and supplies rods, bait buckets crab nets and all. He will be only too pleased to take you out for a night off the pier. Its still 30 degrees here at 10.30pm, nice for an evening on the pier with a coldy. Cheers, Jo

Meteor said...

Keep 'em coming Greg. Very entertaining for those of us stuck back here in the big smoke, otherwise inundated only with stories of AFL footballers disgracing themselves and earthquakes.