It's Decidedly Average to be back at work...

to coin a phrase used by the inimitable Billy Connolly, Scotland's comedy idol.

I say this as this is the first day back after having a week off, partly in thanks to our useless fuckin' government who decided to give the country three public holidays last week. I also say it, as it's, well, decidedly average to be at work...period.

So, what did I get up to in my time off, I hear you ask.

We had been planning to go to Hermanus but, as you all know, that fell flat due to the {insert spitting noise here) estate agent down there. Instead, taking a flyer, last Sunday afternoon I said to Steph "How do you fancy going down to my folks for a few days from Wednesday afternoon?". To which she said "Ok" and I proceeded to pack my fishing gear in anticipation. I'm sure she could see the joy in my face.

It's been four months since we last saw my folks, Christmas to be exact, so it was about time (diesel price notwithstanding) that we paid them a visit again. On top of that, there's no way my dad's going to come up to Gangsta's Paradise anyway, so it will always be up to us to go down there. In any case, I have a longing for the sea that will never go away so I go down to satisfy that lust too.

We left home on Wednesday afternoon, just after 1pm, right on time for a change. The road was reasonably quiet, except when we got to the Villiers Engen One-Stop and stopped for a cold drink. I was innocently looking through the fridges for something to quench my thirst, when I suddenly hear my name being called above the noise of the other thirsty people. Looking up, I see Fishman and family, sitting in a booth waiting for their lunch to be delivered. I knew they were going down to the North Coast that day too, but did not know what time they would be leaving. As it happens, coincidence had it that we were in the same place at the same time. After paying for the cold drinks and munchies, we said our hello's to the Fishmen family and bid them a safe trip to the coast.

Our drive was pretty uneventful, only having to endure a couple of idiots in their BMW's and some light fog down around Pietermaritburg, normal for the trip. We arrived at the folks around 8h30pm, just in time for the rain to piss down for a couple of hours. Never mind, it gave us time to have a couple of beers and catch up on the news. Once the rain lightened up a bit, we started unpacking the car leaving the fishing gear in a prime spot, ready to be plucked on my way out the door the following morning.

We woke around 8am on Thursday morning, and I headed for the front door to see what the weather and sea were like. Not bad, though the south west wind was blowing a little too hard for my liking. My brother and I decided to take a walk down to the shore to see what the conditions were like and it was just as well we did: they were perfect. On the spot, we decided to go down a couple of hours before high tide which was around 1pm. So we had time for breakfast and a cup of tea, as well as a short chillout chat on what fishing strategy we would be using.

After conning my mum out of a crayfish that we would be using as bait (she's very possessive about her bugs), I took both my rods down to the beach with me and first put out a bait of fresh octopus. With no bites on that, I changed tactic slightly and added a thin slice of crayfish. Within a couple of minutes, I landed a beautiful, 12-inch "Astronaut", better known as the 3-spot Queenfish.



I immediately set up my larger rod, hurled the 8oz grapnel sinker as far as I could, then sent the Astronaut out as a live bait, hoping for one of the early season Garrick my brother had said had been caught already.

After not even ten minutes, just after a sudden downpour of rain, I felt a sharp tug at my line and thought it strange for the Astronaut to pull so hard, so I instinctively set the drag and the ratchet on my reel and in the next instant my rod was pulled down and line started peeling off the reel, accompanied by the scream of the drag. I let out a loud "yeehaa" and my brother picked up on the excitement, also yelling. The rod was bending seaward and as I looked up, I saw what had taken the bait: a Blackfin Shark which, at that quick glance I estimated to be around 100kg. I know it was a Blackfin as they have a habit, once hooked, of launching themselves bodily out of the water while spinning around to try and dislodge the hook. I saw the animal jump twice, but later my brother said he saw it three times. The shark took two long runs, each about 50m, before throwing itself spinning out of the water. Just after the last jump, I felt my line go slack and first instincts told me that it had turned and was heading toward me, but a couple of seconds later I confirmed that it had actually broken the line. This is one of the primary reasons for these sharks jumping and spinning, to drop the hooks and snap the line tethering them to the unknown predator. It is quite spectacular to see a shark launch itself out of the water and even though my fight only lasted about thirty seconds, I was still excited about it that night as I went to sleep. As it was, the knot that I had made to attach the sinker to the main line had come away, so losing the fish was my fault rather than tackle failure. Needless to say, I have endeavoured to find out what knots I should be making in place of my old ones.



After the excitement, I sat down on the rocks and had a good long swig of my "pre-mix" (Capn's Organ and Coke) and chilled out for a few minutes. then, still buoyed by the excitement, I threw in my lighter bait again in the hope of catching another bait fish, but all I came up with was a Morey eel, the scourge of the KZN tropical waters.

We decided to call it a day at about 4pm as by that time the tide had dropped and it looked like it was going to piss down again. Needless to say, none of the family believed my brother and I and blamed the whole thing on a "fisherman's story".

That night, we had a barbecue in the rain with me turning the meat with one hand while the other held the umbrella. It still turned out to be a good braai though.

The weather on Friday wasn't conducive to good fishing (too strong winds and currents), so we ended up in the local pub (just Dad, brother and myself) while Mum and Steph went shopping. The rest of the day was peaceful with only the strong wind making any real noise for the rest of the day.

Saturday's weather wasn't much better than Friday's, but brother and I took a drive through to Port Shepstone to see what the waters there would be like. The surf was just as big as it was at home and the current was just as strong, so we watched a few anglers battling the elements for a while, then decided to take the drive home, stopping en route to see if we could find some other new spots to try one day. We found one particularly good spot, but due to the late time in the afternoon, we decided to leave it for another day.

Getting home, we found that Dad had just gone down to the pub about a half hour before we arrived, but decided to leave him to it and he arrived about an hour later, a few pints of the good brown stuff for the better.

On Sunday morning, I woke up just after 6am and woke Steph to tell her I think we should be getting going. As most of the "binnelanders" (inlanders) would be heading back that day, I felt it best that we should get an early start. Just as well too, going by traffic reports later. There was an estimated 2,500 cars an hour passing through the toll gates and on Monday morning Fishman phoned to say that they had left about an hour after we had and had got caught at one of the last gates, with traffic backed up for about 3km. We, on the other hand, had no such worries and passed through the toll gates quite quickly.

We had more torrential rain coming through the Drakensberg region, which is very unseasonal for SA. I thought it might turn to snow if the temperature dropped any further, but we only had the torrents to deal with.

On getting home at about 13h30, the dogs just about ate us up as they were obviously glad to see us and that we hadn't gone and left them to fend for themselves. And, no doubt, the big gay Doberman, Duke, was glad to be allowed back onto his warm bed in the house. The Shit Towne temperature has fallen quite a bit in the last couple of weeks, to the extent that we have started lighting a fire in the evening to warm the lounge area. It looks like it's going to be a long, cold, winter.

So...what did the rest of you get up to? Let us all know...