Fishing Stories
On Tuesday Feb 01, 2011 I began my journey on a fishing trip to St Philip in the south of the Island (Barbados). The trip from my house lasted some 15 minutes as it was relatively close, there I met Andy and we both quickly unpacked our vehicles and ventured to our fishing spot, which shall remain unnamed for obvious reasons.
It was approximately 8.45pm when we arrived at the fishing spot and was welcomed with a cool breeze from the Atlantic Ocean. As we laid our fishing gear on the ground we both remarked that it was a perfect night for fishing no clouds were in sight. Andy was wearing his wife’s sweater and hinted that since it was just laying there and not being used he decided to use it plus he was now on the mend from a cold the past week. As usual I had on my favorite fishing vest that professional anglers wear on their fishing expeditions so I looked the part.
We quickly assembled our rods and picked our areas where we intended to fish from as we often do. I selected the southern end while Andy chose the northern section from which he would launch his assault. The bait being used was fresh ink-fish and pilchards. All baited rods were now cast out and we sat on our buckets waiting for the big one to bite. Well we waited and waited and waited but the big one was not cooperating and Andy decided to make himself more comfortable as the bucket was just simply that a bucket he selected a nice dry area on the ground where he could stretch out and be more comfortable. He remarked that the ground was dry and was not affected by the slight sea sprays. What he did not mention was that the ground was also hard as the ground was rocky no soil was present. There he laid in his wife’s sweater, more importantly he was seemingly more relaxed. As for me I was not one to complain, my bucket was accustomed to me as I was with it and so I sat there watching the rods like an alert guard dog with eyes constantly shifting from one rod to the other just waiting for the inevitable shriek to occur. Instead, all I was hearing was the thunderous claps made by the constant waves beating against the base of the cliff after which I was greeted with a vapor like mist of sea spray.
Well, my guard dog duties did not pay off so I got up to check on my rod, I had moved slightly away from Andy, my rod appeared to be in good order and it was on my return trip to my bucket that I heard a mighty thump caused by the sea hitting at the base of the cliff and in a split second I heard Andy yelled ‘Oh boy’ and instantly I had the presence of mind to move away from the bucket. Quite instinctively I knew that the vapor like mist was not paying us a visit but his Big Brother, I recalled the sea water hitting me on the back of my right calf and hearing the drum like sounds as hundreds of water drops crashed on my bucket with the beat that only a skilled drummer at a rock concert could make. As I turned and looked at Andy laying there he quipped ‘I don’t believe this’, Andy was now lying in his very own private swimming pool a gift from the sea, yes you see Andy had caught his ‘Big One’ for the night. Andy rose to his feet dripping and completely soaked bewildered at what had occurred I indicated that we should call it a night after all I welcomed the thought of not catching ‘The Big One’ like Andy for the night. It is amazing that we often carry away fond memories from every fishing trip and I joked with Andy and asked him ‘did you get wet’ of course this created much laughter and I ended by telling him to go home and make sure that he washed off all the salt from his body.
Submitted by - David Carrington
