Fishing trip with the boys all good fun
BOY'S weekend away without the girls was fun for all ages.
THIS week my son Lucas, three-year-old grandson Ryder, one of Lucas's best mates Shaun and his dad Ken had a boy's week fishing at Fraser Island.
Now fishing and camping aren't on the top of my to-do list but thank God we stayed in a really good beach house rather than camping, as that may have tested the family unit.
Ryder was pumped about the boy's thing and every time you asked him in the lead-up it was "no mum, no Oma, no chicks at all”.
He was so convinced of that when we arrived at the barge at Rainbow and saw a carload of female backpackers he said, "Look, girls. I thought it was a boy's trip”.
Now, let's talk about fishing.
I grew up fishing for bream, flathead and whiting in the Maroochy River; rowing my dad's boat down with the tide and back with it.
It was an old wooden boat tied up to a tree along the Cod Hole which moved further away from the mouth as the rock wall got built.
It was a great way to grow up but fishing lost its appeal to me at a pretty young age. It may have been because dad used to make me scale his 65 or so bream that he would come home with.
But because it was a "boy's trip” and I realised I need to cherish every moment with the kids, I tagged along to Fraser Island.
I'm glad I did, not only because of family and friends; not only because my second cast (standing knee-deep in budgie smugglers) I caught a nice tailor but also because I got to study your average Australian fisherman in his natural habitat.
Case study 1:
We went to the shop/servo/bar at Orchid Beach and thought we would drop in for a quick beverage.
A sign said no person under that age of 18, I went in and asked did that include three-year-olds.
"That's what the sign says and don't try and sneak the beer out on the deck because you can't!” was the reply from the happy soul in the reflective shirt who was apparently in charge.
Obviously people skills aren't required when you are the only venue.
Case study 2:
Fishing one arvo and some guys fell backwards into a gutter that was bewteen the beach and a sandbank.
They refused to let go of their rods and looked like drowning until about 20 people mounted a rescue.
Of course, after being saved the would-be victims handed out beers.
Seems the rod and reel is regarded more valuable than life itself but I must say I have never see anyone nearly expire in a beachside gutter.
More next week.
