our gluttonous adventure fishing story

I wanted to share with you our gluttonous adventure fishing story.  Here goes.

A couple of weeks ago Pete bought a little tin boat. He was pretty excited about it because he’s one of those fishing guys who really, really, reeeaaalllly loves fishing. And I have to say, I’ve become pretty partial to the whole process myself. Of course this little tin boat and fisherman needed to bond and what better way than to take it out onto our beautiful far south coast seas for a spot of peaceful fishing.


our gluttonous adventure fishing storyour gluttonous adventure fishing story


So one earlyish Saturday morning, Pete and I headed out onto the Merimbula Lake, through the mouth and onto the ocean to try and catch some flathead for dinner and, of course, enjoy some time out on the water getting to know this new little fishing toy.

As always it was beautiful out there. The water was deep and  green and calm. The fish bit and we reeled in enough lovely flathead for us to have for dinner that night. Ahem, and ummm, I , ummm, caught most of the fish and, ummm, mine were the ahem,  biggest. Just sort of fleshing out the story, so to speak.

Anyway, needless to say we had a lovely time lulled about by the gentle rocking of the boat, hauling in flathead left, right and centre, enjoying one another’s company and taking in the beauty of the ocean surrounding us. It’s so, so peaceful out there.

Mostly it’s peaceful.

OK, sometimes I break the peace with some squeals of excitement when the fish are all biting at once and and we are having to reel them in one after the other. I  get a little bit over excited, I suppose you could say. I don’t know how he does it but Pete manages to do all of this multiple hauling in of fish and  and taking off of hooks, re-baiting and throwing back multiple lines in such a quiet, calm, and yes, peaceful manner.

He copes with my over excitedness pretty well, I have to say. What else can he do?

Back to the story. Once we had caught enough fish for our evening meal we packed up and started heading back to shore. Now, at this stage I want to point out that the little tin boat has a motor that works and two oars that just sit there doing nothing. The oars are gorgeous. They are vintage timber oars. Oars that I gave Pete to use as a decorating piece for his living room area. I happily, lovingly gave them to him for this purpose. Never, in my wildest dreams did I think those vintage timber oars would be used on a boat out at sea. Never. How wrong could one girl be?

So where were we? Oh, that’s right, so, yep, we were out at sea, in the lovely little tin boat that had a beautifully running motor and we were ready to go back into shore. So off we went. But suddenly, the beautifully running motor stopped running. Just. Like. That. After fiddling around and a few softly spoken swear words, Pete declared the beautifully running motor not so beautifully running anymore. And it wasn’t going to be running anytime soon and it definitely wasn’t going to be getting us back to shore.

My eyes were instantly drawn to  the vintage timber oars.  I noticed the thinness of their paddle part. I noticed the weight and bulkiness of their handle. And actually, I really hate to utter this but  I looked at those oars with contempt. Not one bit of thankfulness was in my heart nor in  the words that came forth from my lips towards my peacefully calm partner.

Those oars did not work.

Let’s just leave it at that.

And maybe, I might just add, (yes, we’re not just leaving it at that!),  that those oars actually didn’t move the boat at all. Did you see what I typed there. At all.  Pete’s story is a little different but he’s a bit glass is halfish full when it comes to these kinds of things and, his memory is a little wonky. But we won’t mention that to him, OK?

So, there we were out at sea in a lovely little tin boat with a motor that wasn’t running and a pair of vintage timber oars that didn’t work. Out came the newly purchased, orange plastic rescue sheet. Goodness knows what the big black V in the middle stands for but that sheet was pretty helpful in our time of need. We managed to get the attention of a boat that was heading back into shore. They kindly came to our rescue, threw us a rope and pulled us all the way back to the jetty.

To say we were extremely grateful to those kind men with the boat for rescuing us would be an understatement. What an adventure.


our gluttonous adventure fishing story


Once we got our sea legs back on solid, dry land we packed everything up and Pete cleaned and filleted our flathead catch ready for them to be beer battered and fried that evening. Then it was off to pick up Lew from his Saturday job,  a bit of shopping and then home.


our gluttonous adventure fishing storyour gluttonous adventure fishing storyour gluttonous adventure fishing story


This is the yummy meal we prepared together. Freshly caught and cooked Merimbula flathead with home made potato chips, home grown garden salad and home made tartare sauce.


our gluttonous adventure fishing storyour gluttonous adventure fishing storyour gluttonous adventure fishing story


It was divine. And what a story behind that meal. A gluttonous adventure that we got to share together. Memories were certainly made. An adventure was definitely had. A feast was most surely consumed. Lew got to hear about our adventure as we devoured every last morsel together around our  table. Hearts were warmed and tummies were filled and both Pete and I felt satisfied to have shared another gluttonous adventure together, especially one that involved fishing.


Oh, and those vintage timber oars. Well, they’ll be going back to Pete’s living room and in their place will be some ugly, plastic, modern, swarvy ones that might actually work in our time of need. I know I’m a vintage advocate and usually there is no option better than vintage in my book, but when it comes to oars and motors on boats out at sea that stop working, I’m really keen to go with the modern stuff.

Kim x

our gluttonous adventure fishing story