A day in King George Sound fishing for King George whiting is a kind of healing after a winter in the estuaries. Any grumpiness produced by murky inlet waters, muddy seagrass, angry crabs and obscenely early mornings are forgotten as the Westerberg skims the offshore briny and settles into the turquoise dream of the whiting grounds.
Triangles of white sails lie against the islands. Fish shaped like silver sickles, like big bluegum leaves, come up in pods of three. The water in the red bin glistens with whiting mica and far away, I can see the flashes of swell crashing into Breaksea Island. My skin tightens with sun and salt but I just cannot turn my face away from it.
Beautiful. You lot down there are just entering what us lot up here have just left - but much more intensely, by the look of it.
ReplyDeleteIt's quite possible the difference between going fishing after lunch rather than 4.30 in the morning makes the whole day completely pleasant!
ReplyDeleteYes, Tom, we are entering the summer and the land is warming up. But our seasons are a lot more friendly than yours, going by the tales of your last winter. I don't know if I would have survived fishing through one of them.
It's that green water - makes all the difference.
ReplyDeleteAhhh, Seashell, that green, green water!
ReplyDeleteHanging out for it here...the local break has been bloody aweful for months. All that rain.....brown water and no swell and boo hoo!
ReplyDeletewonderful time capsule - magic water colours, Sarah :-)
ReplyDeleteI envy you the turquoise waters, the clear blue sky and the sunshine.
ReplyDeleteFish well Sarah
Yes, Seashell. I'm pretty much over the brown water. Working the inlets all winter and then getting 'outside', I've realised the main causes of my grumpiness - brown water and getting out of bed before I am ready!
ReplyDeleteThe getting out of bed before I am ready thing is unfortunately exacerbated by the summer but the solstice will sort that out. Yes.