Carol’s Column

Gone fishin' ... or something

A COCK crowed.

In the left-hand corner of the earth the black gave way to pink grey and trees began to show bold against the dawn.

The water rippled gently. There was hush everywhere.

Well almost everywhere.

In a three-metre boat on the Vaal Dam, a battle raged.

"Stop breathing or I'll throw you overboard," said my husband as he cast far into the early-morning murk. "Your adenoids are keeping the fish away."

"Did I ask to come?" I growled through my balaclava.

"Of course you did," he answered, "we're a happy family and we always do everything together."

Muted happy family sounds wafted on the breeze from the other end of the boat.

"Get your rod out of my ear or I'll poke your eye out."

"Jamie, if you push that lever, you'll make a bird's nest. Jamie, you pushed that lever and made a bird's nest. Jamie, I'll kill you."

"This sandwich is terrible, even the fish won't eat it."

The boat rocked and rolled its way across the fishless waters.

Nobody deserves this, I thought to myself as I crouched in the bottom of the boat, water slopping against my frozen rear.

My thumb ached where I'd almost amputated it when mistaking it for bait in the dim torch light.

Bird songs filtered through the silence. All around the water plopped.

"Listen to them jumping," said my husband as he drew on his pipe and blew in my face.

"Isn't this great, just you, me, the kids, the fish and the great outdoors?"

I inhaled the heady mixture of petrol, tobacco and rotten fish through the ages.

"This is the life," said my spouse.

I shut my eyes.

"Carol, Carol, are you OK?"

"Sure, I'm just fine. I'm frozen to death and rigor mortis has just set in."

"Great," he murmured and cast again.

There has to be something that makes people exchange the warmth and security of their soft beds for the purgatory of wet wood, slippery fish and smelly bait.

For the life of me, I can't think what.

There is no doubt that fishing is a barbaric sport. Have you ever watched a fisherman slit the belly of a poor, defenceless still-writhing fish and rip out the innards?

I was cold and miserable. I wondered how long it would be before they'd had enough and we'd slowly phut phut our way to hot coffee and buttered toast.

"I promised you a fish for breakfast," said my husband jovially, "and by heavens you'll have a fish".

As the sun rose the fishing improved. We caught a plastic bag, several reeds, someone else's fishing line, a rusty baked bean can, half a soggy cardboard carton and a tubeless tyre.

Not for me the luxury of a can opener and a tin of merrily swimming-in-tomato-sauce pilchards.

I had to wait for Jaws 3 and then dish it up for breakfast.

After four hours I'd had it.

My spouse sensed my displeasure and made a magnanimous gesture.

"Have a cast," he said, handing me his lightweight rod with the whipping end and the fancy fixed reel.

I declined.

"No, go on," he insisted. "You must participate in a family way."

Like an old salt, I swung the rod high and released the bail arm. The line whistled away.

It was a splendid cast.

My family clapped.

I relaxed in true fishing style, a finger resting gently on the line, while the rod in turn rested gently on my midriff.

When suddenly, I nearly jumped out of the boat with fright. Something was pulling the line.

"Strike!" bellowed my man.

"Strike!" yelled the kids.

I struck making contact with my husband's well-defined nose en route.

No matter, I hadn't lost the fish, I could feel him pulling and chasing far below.

The rod bent. "Play the line," my advisors shouted.

The line, what line? I pulled and a great fat fish jerked into the boat smacking its tail and hitting my husband full frontal on the face.

What a fish — what a magnificent fish.

I stunned him against the boat, pulled out the hook and slit his belly, ripping out the innards.

It was massive, it must have weighed at least 50 kg. Well, 2½ kg anyway.

"Right, let's head to shore," said my husband, who had bitten through the stem of his pipe.

"Head to shore?" I replied. "Don't be silly — we've just arrived. I want to do a spot of fishing."

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