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Jul. 23rd, 2004 10:51 pmAt 2:00p today, I had enough of the week. I hopped in the boat, pointed it west, and went fishing.
It started out with 1-2 foot gentle swells, by the time I got 15 miles offshore, it was a little closer to 2-3 foot. I fished nearly to sundown, with only a couple small sharks to show for it, but the horizon was what I was after. At one point, there was sun and sky and birds and water...and nothing else in any direction I looked. Not another boat or any other sign of humanity from me to the curve of the Earth.
A half-hour before sunset, the swells started to chop at 2-4 feet. I pointed east, and surfed the waves back in. The sun set red behind my shoulder, a gemstone on fire. When I looked back at my wake, the plankton in the water phosphoresced an internal green, exactly the shade of fireflies but spread behind me for yards. Squadrons of flying fish kept me company to the near shore, when the dolphin took over.
This was the first time I've taken the boat out by myself. I've worked on it enough to feel comfortable with it, even tossed around. My shoulders ache from retrieving my anchor solo -- something that might be considered an art in high swells, if it wasn't so physical.
I'm supposed to go to Melbourne tomorrow, but it's looking like it's going to be postponed a couple weeks due to family scheduling. I shall sleep the sleep of oblivion tonight.
It started out with 1-2 foot gentle swells, by the time I got 15 miles offshore, it was a little closer to 2-3 foot. I fished nearly to sundown, with only a couple small sharks to show for it, but the horizon was what I was after. At one point, there was sun and sky and birds and water...and nothing else in any direction I looked. Not another boat or any other sign of humanity from me to the curve of the Earth.
A half-hour before sunset, the swells started to chop at 2-4 feet. I pointed east, and surfed the waves back in. The sun set red behind my shoulder, a gemstone on fire. When I looked back at my wake, the plankton in the water phosphoresced an internal green, exactly the shade of fireflies but spread behind me for yards. Squadrons of flying fish kept me company to the near shore, when the dolphin took over.
This was the first time I've taken the boat out by myself. I've worked on it enough to feel comfortable with it, even tossed around. My shoulders ache from retrieving my anchor solo -- something that might be considered an art in high swells, if it wasn't so physical.
I'm supposed to go to Melbourne tomorrow, but it's looking like it's going to be postponed a couple weeks due to family scheduling. I shall sleep the sleep of oblivion tonight.
