Fishing at Eighty Mile Beach

It all begins the night before.
“What time’s high tide tomorrow?”
“What tackle do I need?”
“Have I got bait?”
“What’s the weather doing?”

The next day…

Two hours before high tide, you get the gear together; the rods, the bait, the tackle. The rest of the fisherfolk in the campground are doing the same and all are having the same thought “Today the giant Threadfin Salmon will be mine!” One may even get the eggs and flour ready on the bench in anticipation of the cook up to come.

Gear in hand and a spring in the step, you make your way to the sandy arena. Scanning the shoreline you select your point of entry. The lucky spot!

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Rod holders mark your territory, rods are inserted and lines baited. Optimism is running high. You cast, check your tension and drag and wait. Standing on water’s edge, rod in hand, finger on the line. It’s about to happen. It’s imminent. Anticipation is at its peak. Today the big cohuna is mine.

 

10 minutes into fishing…

You look left and right, to see how the other optimist fisherfolk are fairing. And they’re doing likewise. A pervasive thought ripples down the shoreline.

“Mmmm, no action, better check my bait!”

Optimism begins to temper and with that you step back from the shoreline, place the rod in its holder and start thinking “Mmmm, this may take a while!”

One hour later…

You find yourself thinking “What’s for dinner tonight?” and the fisherman next you is scanning the shoreline for interesting shells, while his mate is slumped in his chair with the thousand mile stare.

And then from a distance you see them coming, under the guise of shell collectors, they are in fact gathering intelligence on the state of play. “How’s it going? Caught anything?” After a brief exchange, they pass you by and proceed to the next fisherman who is also staring at the tip of the rod for any sign of life.

Another hour later…

What was once optimism has now been replaced with the inevitable.” Snags for dinner!”

And then it happens… The tip of the rod jerks, the hook is set and the big cohuna is landed. Except it’s not your rod. It’s the fisherman twenty metres to your left. And it’s not a cohuna it’s a Threadfin Salmon! A specialty! 4.5 out of 5.

And with that, all those slumped in their chairs are back at the water’s edge, rod in hand, with heightened senses in anticipation of success coming their way.

The last cast…

The tide turns, starts going back out and you know it’s acceptance time. Not! You look at your mate and say “Shall we pack up? They reply “Just one more cast.” And with that you experience the rekindling of the optimism you brought with you when you first started your day’s fishing. “Just, maybe now.”

Ten minutes later…

You leave the beach with an ember of optimism and some thoughts
“What time’s high tide tomorrow?”
“What tackle do I need?
“Have I got bait?”
“What’s the weather doing?”

“Tomorrow will be my cohuna day!”

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