Just wanted to share a story of my fishing trip in Parsley Bay yesterday.
I was there between 6am to 6pm, hoping to beat my previous (unimpressive) record.
It was crowded and I am not just talking about the people on the wharf. There were Mackerels booming everywhere and not a single soul left the wharf without a fish in the morning. And yes, I beat my record with a new species (the mackerel) at 33cm (see? unimpressive record).
In previous trips, I would bring my earphones and listen to my music, only taking it off when someone calls to me. However, yesterday I felt like putting it away and just be in the moment; listen to the waves crash, listen to the excitement of those landing a fish, but more importantly, listening to their stories.
I had a lot of opportunity to speak with everyone whether they came before or after. I can even "feel" the passion and the fondest memories people have had over the years in their fishing journey.
It was not until, I think 2pm when a gentlemen and his wife came down and spoke with us, was the highlight. They have had decades in their fishing diaries and such a rich history in Parsley Bay. They spoke of schools of bonitos, five years ago, so immense that they pushed the swimming nets back. They spoke of the largest fish they caught and what it took to catch it. They spoke of his huge stock of fishing equipment. Interestingly, what stood out, was how a fellow neighbour simple handed all his fishing gear to them because of their passion.
As a retired school teacher, he gladly taught me many techniques, fishing spots, baits, rigs etc. He listened to my stories which surprisingly mirrored his younger days. He even dove into the water to look for my lost squid jig.
Before he left, he asked me something that still amazes me even to this moment of writing, "Jackey, are you interested in a surf rod?".
I respectfully declined and said there must be others more deserving of the rod than a stranger like myself. But he stopped me and said, "I see that you are passionate and you seem to care about your gear; so I want to give this to you".
He went home and came back with a practically new and beautiful surf rod, with a "Merry Christmas".
So wherever you are, I want to say; Thank you, Albert. I will look after this rod as you have and hope to someday also hand it down to another passionate kid.