Written 11 May 2020.
The long trip back, the arrival with shopping bags, the load and unload on the flying fox.
Dy comes by late afternoon for a cuppa and a yarn. We tell him of a chat we had with the kind-hearted C at DB’s, who carried our bags and gas bottles – amazing strength, a huge gas bottle in each hand – i’m fine, I’m balanced – a 5 generations fisherman. He said he loved our creek…
But are there any fish in it? I asked.
Plenty. You’re probably using a house-brick on your lines. You need a light line, a light sinker and oysters as bait. Don’t buy that muck they sell. Oysters off the rocks will do it every time.
Slowly, slowly we are learning to live.
And the moon was a cold white fire welcoming us home.