A Fishy Story – Part 2

“There is something wrong with this thing. It is not the same as the other one. I don’t like this!” I complained as I was reeling in yet another fish. No one was paying much attention to my complaints though as they were all busy. We went through a school of tuna and hooked five, so I wasn’t given much of a choice. I was simply commandeered into the fishing chair where two consecutive rods were put in my hands with instructions of “pull up. . .let it down and wind. . .pull. . .let it down and wind. . .” Eventually one of the crew told me to stop winding, and I closed my eyes and turned my head, as I did not wanted to think about the fact that there was actually a fish on the other side of all this winding that was now losing its life.

Afterwards, I stumbled back to the comfortable ‘lounger’ where I have spent most of my day with my eyes closed. I was praying that the horrible feeling of seasickness that was hovering on the edges of my consciousness will please just go away. When I agreed to go on a deep sea fishing trip with my husband, I was visualising mirror smooth seas, but what we received was even in his vocabulary a “little rough”. Going to the bathroom was a real ordeal. Not only because I was struggling to find any stability as I was being tossed all over the place, but also because the enclosed space was the quickest and surest way of bringing on a bad case of nausea. I would have preferred to avoid going to the bathroom entirely, but the seasick pills we have been taking had a dehydrating effect on my body.

I am not quite sure what I was expecting of the day, but I did think that I would be able to lie around sleeping, reading and gazing at the horizon feeling relaxed and content. I did manage to doze and gaze at the horizon, but reading was a discarded fantasy and I am not sure that fighting off seasickness made me feel either relaxed or content. As the day dragged by I eventually started to look forward to some fishing activity, as it was a welcome distraction. I was also hoping that my husband would catch a sailfish, so every time a fish got hooked I would jump up in anticipation. Great was my excitement when a sailfish did surface, and for the next hour or so I was convinced that we would hook one.

In between trawling, dozing, talking, and staring at the horizon Michael managed to catch quite a couple of tuna. The most exciting ‘fight’ of the day was when he half-hooked the shark that lunched on the tuna he hooked, but eventually this long day came to a close when the crew asked if it was fine to call it a day. Those were most probably the most beautiful words I’ve heard all day, and I was quite relieved when the captain opened up the throttle and we were speeding towards dry ground.

Much later when we were reliving this day, I mentioned the broken rod and reel again. Michael laughed and said, “My babes, there was nothing wrong with the equipment. That tuna was most probably the biggest of the day!” “Oh,” was all I could at first get out. Not once did it cross my mind that struggling so had anything to do with the size of the fish. Actually, I wasn’t thinking too much about there being a fish on the line at all. I had to laugh. Not because I looked like a stupid blond, but because it simply proves that I am no ‘fisherwoman’.

Next time when I’m invited along, I will simply decline. Fun, to me, looks slightly different than this: