Fishing for me doesn’t begin with the harsh awakening on Saturday morning. It has already begun during the week, when on Wednesday I start searching the weather reports, the boat schedules, having always in mind my favorite fishing spots and how to be in the right place at the right time.
Very original, you might say, since half the spearos of the world seem to do exactly the same. Ok, that’s right but our differences start here. And that is because my dear friends, when on Friday night you will probably be preparing your guns, I will have another important chore. To clear my – usually red – nails. How will I pose with the fish? My gloves summer and winter alike are always torn up with the pealing nail polish creating a very… ugly picture. Where do you think you are going lady with those nails? Ha?
Carrying on, we have the hair. A great burden indeed. On the buoy I always keep extra hair bands, but they never seem to be enough. I have to remember to take with me my clamer and a bandana if its summer, to keep my hair from falling in front of my face while I’m cleaning the fish. In the winter time, cloth caps are real life savers and I rarely forget to take one since I never go out with my ears exposed. Thank God, we solved that!
Now let’s pass to the food. On Friday I usually bake cakes or cookies. Yes, my diving buddies are really lucky since I usually take with me a cake and two roasting pans of cookies, returning at night with empty Tupperware. I prepare the essential sandwiches and my equipment bag is next.
Wetsuits that have been washed in the laundry, bathrobe, towel, bags for the fish – because usually the others always forget – soaped up mask, everything the way it should be. With all the above, time usually passes quickly and I fall to bed late at night.
For the barbaric awakening I won’t write anything. You know, outside the cold is savage, you start to wonder what a jackass you are, what stupid hobby you have chosen and finally you forget everything and happily get out.
So we set off, we meet, we drive, we get there, we take the gear out of the car…
And only then do I remember that I have not even looked at my spearguns. That the shaft from the 82 needs sharpening, that the reel on the 95 is all tangled up and… ok I’ll stop now.
And then, the little girl I hide well somewhere inside emerges and with a sweet little voice begins asking:
- Jooooohn (softly and full of coy), will you sharpen my shaft?
- Michaeeeeeeel, can you see if my line needs to be changed?
- Geooooorge, what do you think of my reel?
My friends of course, as true gentlemen are supposed to, never say no – what goes on in their heads is another case – fixing up my gear. On the meantime, I get dressed. Yes, of course! I take my perfectly fixed guns and say:
- Well, I’m ready. I’ll start fishing and you can catch up. If that is not bold, than I don’t know what is.
So we begin fishing and every time I need help I simply start yelling on the top of my lungs so even a deaf man – yes I know, we all are deaf – could hear. Having fished, we go out, take the necessary photos, take care of the fish, change into our clothes, gather our things and now the interesting part begins.
When the time comes to move the gear, for a strange reason – not on purpose of course – I always manage to stay behind. At that point, my good friends always come to give me a hand.
- Hey man, don’t sweat it, I’m fine. If you want you can take the weights (especially in the winter time), and I’ll follow in a sec.
What’s the topping of the cake? Long hair never seems to dry in the winter. Getting into the car then, for half the way my friends have to accept the fact that the heating will work double time, used by me as a dryer.
And the above are only when fishing is done from land. Believe me, you don’t want to know what happens with the scooter. As far as my presence on the boat is concerned, I just won’t comment. I don’t know if that is the way you imagined it, but that is how spearfishing is with a girl. Maybe you should reconsider…
Last modified on Monday, 02 November 2009 20:23
