Once back at the house, after breakfast, I got the fishing gear together and took a hike down to the rocks in front of the house to wet some line. There'd been a family of fisherfolk further along the beach earlier, who had had a pickup from a Garrick (large sportfish, just what I was after), so I tied on a large "plug" (a fish-shaped piece of weighted plastic with a couple of treble hooks attached in strategic places, designed especially for catching Garrick) and threw it a few times. On one cast I got a slight tangle and when I eventually got it undone, found that my line was broken. Before I realised what had happened, I'd let go of the loose end and it was "bye bye plug". Pissed off, I tied on a large spoon (a heavy fish-shaped piece of lead with a couple of treble hooks attached in strategic places, designed for catching large gamefish) and threw it in a few times. Same story as the plug, the line tangled and the spoon got snagged on a rock, the line snapped and I thought "fuck this, it's getting expensive" and decided to call it a day. Later I found out that the line was rotten, as it had been on the reel for at least five years...time to replace it, expensive lesson learned.
By then, the wind had picked up again and dad and I chilled out for the rest of the day, waiting for their car to be delivered by the fuckwit servicemen who had taken four days to service the BMW (never buy a Beamer, I say). Mum and Steph had gone shopping, for lack of something more interesting to do. When the car eventually arrived, around 4pm, dad signed it off and we had to take it for a test drive along to the new pub for a beer. I hesitate to call it a pub, but it's the best they can do in a small place like the caravan park where it's located. It's more like a big room that someone built a counter in one corner of, stuck a fridge in, put up a few beer advertising posters, and called it a pub for the locals to frequent and the OAP's to hold their bingo on a Thursday morning. Worst of all, it had a couple of the local "boneheads" hanging off the counter, not-my-cuppa-tea-type-folks, but they were interesting enough for a couple of hours of personal amusement.
At about 6pm, we staggered off home in the shiny Beamer, to face a Vindaloo curry that Steph had "knocked together". Excellent, as usual, tasty enough to make any good Charo's eyes water and nose run in culinary delight. It was so good that dad got possessive about the leftovers and froze it so that he could have it at a later date.
On Saturday, we got up early-ish (about 7am) as I'd wanted to go and throw a fly line in the lagoon to see what lurks there, but the wind had got up again during the night and it wasn't conducive to that sort of fishing. Instead, we took a last walk on the beach, this time in the opposite direction from the previous mornings as the wind was from the other side. Bonnie was now very confident in the new environment and ended up chasing crabs around the rock crevasses while we picked up Cowrie shells off the sand.
After breakfast and a shower, we got packed up and the car loaded. We'd decided to come home on the Saturday to have a day at home to chill out and do some things around the house before going back to work on Monday. Our washing machine was in the process of packing up (Steph has had it for about 14yrs) so we brought back my old top-loader that I'd loaned my folks a couple of years earlier and I loaded that on the Ranger. In addition, dad had decided that he didn't want the old freestanding bar counter on the verandah, and "traded" us that and the three chairs for the couches. Dad's strange like that...if you give him something, he has to give you something in return otherwise he feels like he "owes you".
So, luggage, washing machine and new bar counter strapped down, we loaded Bonnie into the Ranger again (you should have seen her face when we were packing, you could have sworn she thought she was getting left behind) and we hit the highway just after midday.
This time we knew Bonnie didn't want to get out as often as we'd expected her to on the way down, so we journeyed home a whole 90mins less than we'd gone down in, only stopping once for fuel and a second time for Steph to go for a leak.
It's always good to get down to the coast, but it's just as good to get home again to settle down into comfortable surroundings.
Right now, I'm working on a presentation for a client I'm trying to sell a whole bunch of consulting to, and later (even though it's probably around 10deg outside) I'm off for a bit of night fishing...fly fishing for trout this time. A good social evening out with a bit of fishing, a bit of drinking, but a whole lot of chilling out that happens every third Wednesday of the month.
Hope you're all well out there...
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Yes, I'm still here...
shivering under the latest cold weather onslaught, but still alive and well.
In response to Max's comment recently (and before I get another chunty seat award) I thought I'd better let you know in advance that I'm busy working on another novel-length posting, this time about cultural and religious differences. I think it's going to be a little controversial, but what the fuck, it's my blog and my opinions...coming soon to a posting near you.
As for the last week or so, we went down to my folks on Wednesday morning for a few days R&R and, I hoped, some fishing. Salt or fresh water, I wasn't cared. Wednesday had been a public holiday, so we only had to take two days leave to get five off, including the weekend.
We took Bonnie down with us, one of our Weimaraners, as she and Duke (the Dobermann) seem to be having a difference of opinions these days. It recently cost us almost R2,000 to have a wound fixed on her side caused by the big brown fuckwit after he had bitten her in some or other altercation.
We also took down a couple of lounge couches for my folks, who had said they wanted them as they (the couches) weren't quite fitting in with the rest of our decor. Getting the couches onto the back of the Ranger was another story. I had to take the canopy off after hoping I might be able to get them in without having to lug the 100-odd kilogram weight on my back and onto some trestles. Anyway, it gave us some space to put our gear in between the couches, which I laid one upside down on top of the other. Naturally, the fishing stuff went on first. All this was done at 04h30 in the morning as, if I'd done it the night before, the car would not have gone back in the garage due to the length of the couches sticking over the back of the Ranger. I don't go to gym at the best of times, but doing some serious exercise at 04h30 in the morning was just fuckin' ludicrous. Good riddance to the fuckin' couches, I say.
I took out the two large toolbox-thingies that take the place of a backseat in the Ranger and got Bonnie's bed settled in. This is the first time she'd be on such a long trip and, though she loves going in the car, we weren't sure how she'd take the extended time in the cramped space. Huh...she slept the entire fuckin' way, like she was part of the grey carpet.
We got on the road at just after 06h00, an hour later than I'd wanted to, but when you have to pack and repack things to get two women into the car (Steph and Bonnie) things can take a little longer than anticipated. The road was nice and quiet, though we'd expected there to be a bit more traffic due to the "lemming run" that usually takes place to the coast on these breaks. We stoppped off about 200km from home to fill up (just in time, as I put 83l into an 85l tank) and let Bonnie have a runabout. A quick toasted sarmie and a coffee later and we're back on the road. We stop off again in the Drakensberg, about half way to the coast, for another "piss parade".
From there onward, the weather deteriorated, in typical coastal weather for this time of year. From about fifteen feet inside KwaZulu Natal it started raining. A mist-like sort of rain, not enough to use the wipers, but enough to soak into the couches on the back. Luckily, I'd put a couple of sheets of plastic on the back and I'd covered the gaps as best I could.
We stopped at the folks place at just after 2pm, right in the middle of a downpour. Thankfully, there was a carport that I could leave the Ranger, and couches, under until it passed. So it was, that I had my first beer of the trip...lovely and cold, Windhoek Lager. Rheinheitsgebot at its best. We let the weather clear a bit and got the couches and luggage unpacked and settled down for the afternoon as the weather was shite. Cool and rainy, the whole afternoon.
I was glad to see the folks were a lot less heavy-hearted after Pandora's burial, and we had been a little hesitant in taking Bonnie so soon after it, but they took care of her like she was their own, not that I'd expected anything less. The folks pampered her, treated her like they'd done with Pandora for the 16-odd years that they'd had her, and they'd done it with gladness in their heart, no sign of their previous sadness. That was, at least, until I showed mum the little obituary I'd written for Pandora. Mum shed a few tears, but then went back to her old self again.
On the Thursday morning, we took Bonnie for a run (read "walk") on the beach to see what her reaction to it would be. At first, she was a little hesitant as she had not seen crashing waves and such a huge sandbox before, but she took to it like a fish to water. Running up and down the beach, up to her backwards-facing knees in the water, over and under rock formations, she had an absolute ball. That morning, we walked further along the beach than I had ever gone in all the time my folks had been living there. We must have done a total of about 8km and eventually turned around once we started feeling hungry. The weather that day was blowing a gale and so there was no fishing to be done.
On Friday, the weather was nice again, with the wind having dropped overnight. We took Bonnie for another walk along the beach and I bought a fishing licence at the post office (fuckin' ripoff - now we have to pay to amuse ourselves on the beach too).
Once back at the house, after breakfast, I got the fishing gear together and took a hike down to the rocks in front of the house to wet some line. There'd been a family of fisherfolk further along the beach earlier, who had had a pickup from a Garrick (large sportfish, just what I was after), so I tied on a large "plug" (a fish-shaped piece of weighted plastic with a couple of treble hooks attached in strategic places, designed especially for catching Garrick) and threw it a few times. On one cast I got a slight tangle and when I eventually got it undone, found that my line was broken. Before I realised what had happened, I'd let go of the loose end and it was "bye bye plug". Pissed off, I tied on a large spoon (a heavy fish-shaped piece of lead with a couple of treble hooks attached in strategic places, designed for catching large gamefish) and threw it in a few times. Same story as the plug, the line tangled and the spoon got snagged on a rock, the line snapped and I thought "fuck this, it's getting expensive" and decided to call it a day. Later I found out that the line was rotten, as it had been on the reel for at least five years...time to replace it, expensive lesson learned.
By then, the wind had picked up again and dad and I chilled out for the rest of the day, waiting for their car to be delivered by the fuckwit servicemen who had taken four days to service the BMW (never buy a Beamer, I say). Mum and Steph had gone shopping, for lack of something more interesting to do. When the car eventually arrived, around 4pm, dad signed it off and we had to take it for a test drive along to the new pub for a beer. I hesitate to call it a pub, but it's the best they can do in a small place like the caravan park where it's located. It's more like a big room that someone built a counter in one corner of, stuck a fridge in, put up a few beer advertising posters, and called it a pub for the locals to frequent and the OAP's to hold their bingo on a Thursday morning. Worst of all, it had a couple of the local "boneheads" hanging off the counter, not-my-cuppa-tea-type-folks, but they were interesting enough for a couple of hours of personal amusement.
At about 6pm, we staggered off home in the shiny Beamer, to face a Vindaloo curry that Steph had "knocked together". Excellent, as usual, tasty enough to make any good Charo's eyes water and nose run in culinary delight. It was so good that dad got possessive about the leftovers and froze it so that he could have it at a later date.
On Saturday, we got up early-ish (about 7am) as I'd wanted to go and throw a fly line in the lagoon to see what lurks there, but the wind had got up again during the night and it wasn't conducive to that sort of fishing. Instead, we took a last walk on the beach, this time in the opposite direction from the previous mornings as the wind was from the other side. Bonnie was now very confident in the new environment and ended up chasing crabs around the rock crevasses while we picked up Cowrie shells off the sand.
After breakfast and a shower, we got packed up and the car loaded. We'd decided to come home on the Saturday to have a day at home to chill out and do some things around the house before going back to work on Monday. Our washing machine was in the process of packing up (Steph has had it for about 14yrs) so we brought back my old top-loader that I'd loaned my folks a couple of years earlier and I loaded that on the Ranger. In addition, dad had decided that he didn't want the old freestanding bar counter on the verandah, and "traded" us that and the three chairs for the couches. Dad's strange like that...if you give him something, he has to give you something in return otherwise he feels like he "owes you".
So, luggage, washing machine and new bar counter strapped down, we loaded Bonnie into the Ranger again (you should have seen her face when we were packing, you could have sworn she thought she was getting left behind) and we hit the highway just after midday.
This time we knew Bonnie didn't want to get out as often as we'd expected her to on the way down, so we journeyed home a whole 90mins less than we'd gone down in, only stopping once for fuel and a second time for Steph to go for a leak.
It's always good to get down to the coast, but it's just as good to get home again to settle down into comfortable surroundings.
Right now, I'm working on a presentation for a client I'm trying to sell a whole bunch of consulting to, and later (even though it's probably around 10deg outside) I'm off for a bit of night fishing...fly fishing for trout this time. A good social evening out with a bit of fishing, a bit of drinking, but a whole lot of chilling out that happens every third Wednesday of the month.
Hope you're all well out there...
Once back at the house, after breakfast, I got the fishing gear together and took a hike down to the rocks in front of the house to wet some line. There'd been a family of fisherfolk further along the beach earlier, who had had a pickup from a Garrick (large sportfish, just what I was after), so I tied on a large "plug" (a fish-shaped piece of weighted plastic with a couple of treble hooks attached in strategic places, designed especially for catching Garrick) and threw it a few times. On one cast I got a slight tangle and when I eventually got it undone, found that my line was broken. Before I realised what had happened, I'd let go of the loose end and it was "bye bye plug". Pissed off, I tied on a large spoon (a heavy fish-shaped piece of lead with a couple of treble hooks attached in strategic places, designed for catching large gamefish) and threw it in a few times. Same story as the plug, the line tangled and the spoon got snagged on a rock, the line snapped and I thought "fuck this, it's getting expensive" and decided to call it a day. Later I found out that the line was rotten, as it had been on the reel for at least five years...time to replace it, expensive lesson learned.
By then, the wind had picked up again and dad and I chilled out for the rest of the day, waiting for their car to be delivered by the fuckwit servicemen who had taken four days to service the BMW (never buy a Beamer, I say). Mum and Steph had gone shopping, for lack of something more interesting to do. When the car eventually arrived, around 4pm, dad signed it off and we had to take it for a test drive along to the new pub for a beer. I hesitate to call it a pub, but it's the best they can do in a small place like the caravan park where it's located. It's more like a big room that someone built a counter in one corner of, stuck a fridge in, put up a few beer advertising posters, and called it a pub for the locals to frequent and the OAP's to hold their bingo on a Thursday morning. Worst of all, it had a couple of the local "boneheads" hanging off the counter, not-my-cuppa-tea-type-folks, but they were interesting enough for a couple of hours of personal amusement.
At about 6pm, we staggered off home in the shiny Beamer, to face a Vindaloo curry that Steph had "knocked together". Excellent, as usual, tasty enough to make any good Charo's eyes water and nose run in culinary delight. It was so good that dad got possessive about the leftovers and froze it so that he could have it at a later date.
On Saturday, we got up early-ish (about 7am) as I'd wanted to go and throw a fly line in the lagoon to see what lurks there, but the wind had got up again during the night and it wasn't conducive to that sort of fishing. Instead, we took a last walk on the beach, this time in the opposite direction from the previous mornings as the wind was from the other side. Bonnie was now very confident in the new environment and ended up chasing crabs around the rock crevasses while we picked up Cowrie shells off the sand.
After breakfast and a shower, we got packed up and the car loaded. We'd decided to come home on the Saturday to have a day at home to chill out and do some things around the house before going back to work on Monday. Our washing machine was in the process of packing up (Steph has had it for about 14yrs) so we brought back my old top-loader that I'd loaned my folks a couple of years earlier and I loaded that on the Ranger. In addition, dad had decided that he didn't want the old freestanding bar counter on the verandah, and "traded" us that and the three chairs for the couches. Dad's strange like that...if you give him something, he has to give you something in return otherwise he feels like he "owes you".
So, luggage, washing machine and new bar counter strapped down, we loaded Bonnie into the Ranger again (you should have seen her face when we were packing, you could have sworn she thought she was getting left behind) and we hit the highway just after midday.
This time we knew Bonnie didn't want to get out as often as we'd expected her to on the way down, so we journeyed home a whole 90mins less than we'd gone down in, only stopping once for fuel and a second time for Steph to go for a leak.
It's always good to get down to the coast, but it's just as good to get home again to settle down into comfortable surroundings.
Right now, I'm working on a presentation for a client I'm trying to sell a whole bunch of consulting to, and later (even though it's probably around 10deg outside) I'm off for a bit of night fishing...fly fishing for trout this time. A good social evening out with a bit of fishing, a bit of drinking, but a whole lot of chilling out that happens every third Wednesday of the month.
Hope you're all well out there...
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3 comments:
And about bloody time too. At this rate of blogging I might just go back to reading boks. And become like Ross's cousin or brother or something and post reviews.
You say:- "I'm off for a bit of night fishing...fly fishing for trout this time. A good social evening out with a bit of fishing, a bit of drinking, but a whole lot of chilling out that happens every third Wednesday of the month."
More like a bit of fishing, maybe, a lot of drinking, for sure, and some chilling!!
Enjoy the evening, and good blogg. Welcome back.
Salagatle!
Glad to see you back cuzz.
Regards to all.
I can't wait to see the length of the novel like post!!
Still at least we know you're still with us!
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