It's Fish Day
Ever since last winter, my husband abandons me on early Sunday mornings. Weather permitting, he will get up at four thirty or a little later, eat breakfast, get his gear ready, and leave to join his friends. The three of them go to little nooks along the coast where they are sheltered from the wind. Where they go depends upon where the wind is blowing from. They have places where they are sheltered from the north wind, and places sheltered from the southerly winds. Generally, they are up on rocky cliffs, occasionally down on the beach. There they fish to their hearts' content.
Slowly, since last year, my husband has accumulated the necessary equipment. Some of it is new, other pieces are second-hand, found after much scrolling through websites. Some evenings my husband will sit and search the internet, checking new equipment and fishing articles. I have learned new vocabulary, mostly in English but it could be in Thai for all I understand. Jigging, spinning, casting, surfcasting, pesca a boya, currican, rapalear, señuelos, and others. I have also learned of manufacturers such as Shimano, Rapala, Daiwa, Penn, Grauvell, Veret, etc. I have been introduced to the fishing section at a nearby sports store, and marvelled at all the different equipment necessary to catch a fish for supper. How did our ancestors manage a hundred years ago?
Over the year he has brought home a few fish dinners. Though he has told me of the many fish he and his friends have let go because of their small size. The law states the minimum length different fish must be to be caught. My husband and his friends respect those minimum lengths and even send back those which the law states they could catch, simply because they still seem too small. But he has seen too many other weekend fishermen catch and keep fish so tiny they won't even fill a plate. He complains bitterly about those fishermen and about those who keep fishing even after having caught six or seven fish. He decries them for exhausting resources from which all benefit. He sees fishing as a sport and a way to pass the time outdoors, away from mundane life. Not as a way to fill the freezer at any cost.
He simply likes to pass the time at the coast, which he has always loved. He prefers to go with his friends, but at times he has gone alone, too. I have never joined him. Though I like to visit the sea, I don't like the thought of sitting for hours on a rock, waiting for a fish to bite. And I like even less the thought of getting up at four in the morning. Or the thought of spending winter mornings in the whistling winds. Or of getting drenched by a wave that reached too high. So I shall resign myself to being abandoned on Sunday mornings. And maybe eating fish for supper.
Slowly, since last year, my husband has accumulated the necessary equipment. Some of it is new, other pieces are second-hand, found after much scrolling through websites. Some evenings my husband will sit and search the internet, checking new equipment and fishing articles. I have learned new vocabulary, mostly in English but it could be in Thai for all I understand. Jigging, spinning, casting, surfcasting, pesca a boya, currican, rapalear, señuelos, and others. I have also learned of manufacturers such as Shimano, Rapala, Daiwa, Penn, Grauvell, Veret, etc. I have been introduced to the fishing section at a nearby sports store, and marvelled at all the different equipment necessary to catch a fish for supper. How did our ancestors manage a hundred years ago?
Over the year he has brought home a few fish dinners. Though he has told me of the many fish he and his friends have let go because of their small size. The law states the minimum length different fish must be to be caught. My husband and his friends respect those minimum lengths and even send back those which the law states they could catch, simply because they still seem too small. But he has seen too many other weekend fishermen catch and keep fish so tiny they won't even fill a plate. He complains bitterly about those fishermen and about those who keep fishing even after having caught six or seven fish. He decries them for exhausting resources from which all benefit. He sees fishing as a sport and a way to pass the time outdoors, away from mundane life. Not as a way to fill the freezer at any cost.
He simply likes to pass the time at the coast, which he has always loved. He prefers to go with his friends, but at times he has gone alone, too. I have never joined him. Though I like to visit the sea, I don't like the thought of sitting for hours on a rock, waiting for a fish to bite. And I like even less the thought of getting up at four in the morning. Or the thought of spending winter mornings in the whistling winds. Or of getting drenched by a wave that reached too high. So I shall resign myself to being abandoned on Sunday mornings. And maybe eating fish for supper.
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| A pic taken on a wilder-than-usual fishing day. |
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