I gaze down now on Aberbach, pausing from the garden or scything around the trees. I have tried a few desultory attempts to reconnect to fishing but seemed ever thwarted.
I started well, buying two surface nets, which this time were surface nets: I don't know what happened last time I ordered. I set them and caught mullet & bass first shot. The next three attempts were empty. As their white floats are so apparent, I am loathe to leave them out too long.
Also I bought twine and rope for new pots. The winter had been a clean sweep, so I was starting from scratch...
Made four. Lovely blue braided rope. They looked very pretty. Like tents from an Arthurian joust.
I set them, and immediately lost one pot. - I hadn't tied it properly. Then, when I went to check them, it was spiders, spiders, spiders, and two of the pockets were fouled up where they had got caught.
The garden was a more receptive arena for my attention.
Last week I noticed gannets diving. The sea looked more alive and hospitable, after weeks of tiring westerlies. It has been cold too.
Today I got my rod out and went down to the sea again.
The first pot had four lobsters in it. Three were size, but in my insane haste, I threw one of those back. Still, two is a blessing.
One for me and one to share.
The next held spiders.
Then I noticed deep-sunken buoys out to sea. I paddled to them, and they were mine, from last year, shrouded in seaweed. I pulled them and there was a pot, still holding a lobster!
There was a breathless, offshore breeze today, but I must do a grand tour of this coast in case more have survived...
Too windy to hang about dangling a rod. I never really believe I'll catch anything like that anyway.
What a perverse coast. Paucity to plenitude.
My forearms are white with salt and my hands smell of fish.
Maybe the garden can get along with less attention for a bit.
