Campin' . . . and Fishin'

Duncan is teaching me how to put my fishing gear together. "What the hell rod is this oh hang on that's not bad yer got an okay (something mumble), darlin you could catch tailer easy with this maybe some reds naw maybe not, tell yer what when we get to quobba you'll be able to hook a bloody beauuuutiful yellow tail you shoulda seen the ones I was pullin in off Carnarvon when was that? Another lifetime. Wait til we get out on the boat, mullet, maaate, maybe a Spanish mackerel them's me favourite. I love you. (Soppy look at me)  We gotta get you a better line than this, I don't want to see this cheap crap on your rod again, I'll do you a three bait no hang on keep it simple Duncan you idiot it's her first time fishin. God you're beautiful. Don't leave. Seriously. I'll die. Now how's yer casting, you know how to cast? Of course not. Don't hold the rod like that. Christ yer not getting a hook until you can cast, flip this over, hold the line here, do this, nice swing eaaasy see? I'm gunna finish off that concreting you yell out when you know how to cast that thing then we'll go beach fishin', tailer's nice, maybe a flattie, where's that bait did I put it in the fridge" (wanders off, still talking).

I practise casting my rod over by the storage sheds. Smokey thinks it's a great game, chasing the weight. After a few goes I've got it, so we head off to Nanga (up the road towards Denham) with some chips and cold beer. Stunning sunset; as the full moon comes up the fish finally start biting. I catch a flathead! Apparently this is impressive, also it's bigger than Duncan's fish. "Mate that's fantastic you couldn't ask for a better first fish, that's a dream fish, look out for them spines hold it like this ohhh mate that's shit-hot you got a flattie on yer first go. Marry me. Where's that knife? I'm gonna cook this up for yer breakfast, look at the size of it. People dream about catching a fish like this. Don't put yer rod in the sand. What bait did you have on that oh yeah prawn they loooove prawns that's it we are definitely gunna go off at Carnarvon wait til you get a reddie I've gotta get you a bigger rod you'll want a ten pound line maybe not, naw, yeah, let's go fifteen, three bait, bang bang bang, whack em in the freezer. Forty four hours straight on One Mile did I tell ya? Big fifty pounders, barely get em outa the water, hammerin' darlin', fuckin hammerin, they were on the chew that's for sure, I asked god to send you and here you are, look at ya catchin' a flattie first time ya have to stay with me otherwise there's no reason to live, let's put some red meat on that see if we get a tailer."

That's pretty much Duncan 24/7; he does stop for breath occasionally and listens to anything I say with fierce concentration. He's lovely but as I remind him, his brain is completely taken over by testosterone and endorphic chemicals, which, combined with not seeing a single woman for months, means he has pretty much lost his mind.