The Fish Were Only Part of It

Another Year, Another Mission

Every year we head away expecting to catch fish.

And every year, the fishing ends up being only half the story.

The latest trip was no different. There were kingies, sharks, beers, questionable timekeeping, a few ordinary decisions, and somehow a phone that spent a night underwater and came home in better condition than some of us did. Pretty standard, really.

Getting there is part of the mission

Even before everyone had arrived, the trip had already thrown us a curveball. One of the crew had a medical emergency before heading away and had to join us later.

Thankfully he made it out, because these trips never really feel complete until everyone who’s supposed to be there eventually turns up.

Once the crew was together, the usual chaos took over. Boats loaded, gear everywhere, enough food to feed twice as many people, and absolutely no concern for fuel economy from certain members of the group.

Apparently getting to the fishing grounds is also a time trial.

Then we actually went fishing

And there were fish around.

We found fish, including some good kingies. Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones interested in them.

One of the boys hooked a solid fish and had it right at the boat when a shark arrived to ruin everybody’s afternoon. The kingy got smoked, everything loaded up at once, and somewhere in the chaos a brand-new rod – snapped in half.

Not exactly the way you imagine breaking in a new setup.

There were plenty of good moments on the water, but as usual, some of the best stories had absolutely nothing to do with what we caught.

The phone that should have been gone

At some point during proceedings, one of the boys managed to drop his phone overboard.

Normally that’s a pretty straightforward story. Phone goes in. Phone is gone. Everyone takes the piss. Life moves on. Except on the morning we were leaving, there was still a theory that it might be sitting somewhere around the mooring.

So one of the boys went for a dive. And somehow, against all reasonable expectations, he actually found the bloody thing.

After spending all that time underwater, the phone still worked. Probably the most successful retrieval operation of the entire trip.

Dinner became more of a suggestion

As the days went on, “dinner time” became increasingly theoretical.

Fishing ran late. Beers appeared. Stories got longer. Nobody was particularly concerned about sticking to a schedule.

At one point someone had come back from a swim, was drying off near the fire and apparently decided clothes were an unnecessary complication.

There we were, sitting around the table eating dinner with one completely naked bloke amongst us but no one looked particular bothered.

You know you’re on a good fishing trip when that doesn’t even crack the top three strangest things that happened.

The fish are only part of it

Of course we remember the fish. But a few years from now, it’ll probably be the other stuff we remember most.

The phone.

The swims

The late dinners.

The stupid decisions.

The beers around the fire.

And a bunch of mates sitting around a table taking the piss out of each other.

That’s really what these trips are about, and it’s a big part of where The Fishing Collective came from in the first place. The fishing gives us a reason to get out there and stories are what come home with us.

The crew is the point.