Life Stories and F-ing Fish Lures

Life Stories and F-ing Fish Lures

One of the joys of travel on land or sea is meeting people unrelated to your normal circles of friends, random comrades all on the same adventure pathway with differing points of views, life experiences and opinions. A curious and interesting social experiment is putting odd travel companions together, the delight is being part of the interactions, of diverse and different people. You are enriched and always learn something new about yourself and others.

Such a congregation of travelers by sea occurs regularly on Percy Islands “sun downers” at the Yacht Club(hut) with fellow boaties sharing a yarn, a story, a joke, a meal, life stories, a shared meal, sometimes a singalong but always fun, enlightening and entertaining.

People from all walks of life meet and swap stories and experiences of life on the ocean, places they have been, handy tips for where not to anchor, recipes, sailing passage advice, weather opinions and so forth not to mention the mechanical and equipment failures: shared experiences that all boat owners are challenged with.

On this occasion at Percy Islands I met a young couple who are teachers having a break after spending 12 months in central Australia.  We shared our experiences as we both lived in the same area near Mintabie in the Pitjantjajara Aboriginal region, central Australia.  Our stories were different yet the same, although 30 years apart on a timeline the landscape of this ancient part of the world had not changed, its  beauty still is embedded in my heart and soul and had also affected this young couple in the same way.  Time spent living in this remote part of Australia gave us a different appreciation and respect.  They encourage Terry and I to go back to the region and see the changes and improvements; in particular with the aboriginal communities.  The elders now taking more responsibility in education of  children in the tribes and also improved self-responsibility in personal health and wellbeing.  Terry and I were at Indulkana Creek Community at the  height of the petrol sniffing, witnessing mothers comatose with unattended sick malnourished children crying next to them ignored and abandoned.

Alcohol addiction problems with no real policing of the “Rum Runners”  that fed the addictions for extortive amounts of money was also at its height.   

I told the story of the  bores that Terry put down for the road works and how this helped to clear up many of the sores and ulcers of the children.  It also gave much joy to the children splashing about in the water.  The young couple were delighted in the history of the bores, had no idea how they came to be as they are well known to them.  They happily told us of the importance happily told us their importance in the communities as they are still in use today.  12 Bores were established over 80 klms distance and the aboriginal tribes still benefit from this water today. Some were like mini lakes and now support wildlife and livestock.

This couple was born in 1984 2 years before we lived at in the desert but despite the generational gap, common ground and understanding and genuine interest in each other’s story and experiences over a cocktail , around the fire pit,  witnessing a spectacular sunset, was a perfect engagement with strangers.

Amazing life stories of fellow travellers shared is a blessing and I am forever grateful to have these opportunities, to step away from my normal daily life and explore people and places.

Another conversation with a bloke called Steve who lives on the island, retired, but this is his home.  He grew up in the light house on a small island adjacent to Middle Percy with his dad the light house keeper and decided to come back to his home for his latter years.  

The knowledge and stories he had were fascinating and I was captivated by the richness and wealth of his life stories of living on an island with very little services from the mainland.

This day at Percy Islands was also the anniversary of a young yachtsmen lost to sea at Islands West Bay where we are anchored.  We were fortunate to be witness to the laying of the memorial plaque by his mother Helen and family friends who came to Percy on the family’s boat to mark the anniversary of their son, 34 years old lost to sea at Percy Islands on the very same boat, they were currently sailing. We did not attend the private service on shore but showed our respect later at the seat and plaque in honor of his life.

What a courageous and honorable thing to do by Mum to come to island and remember her son with strangers and endure the heartache of the loss of her son over again. Helen and her family love the Percy Islands and have been coming to the islands for 30 years

Her son was an experienced yachtsman well known in racing circles.  It is thought that he tripped knocked his head and fell overboard. 

 Lost to the sea and not known for a day until someone checked on the boat that alarm was raised that he was gone.  The currents run about 5 knots at Middle Percy West Bay so his body would have drifted a fair way out.  He was never found.  The family sailing boat is called “Predator” which sadly is a bit ironic. Helen his mum said this will be her last sail in the boat as she will sell it now, her husband also past away a couple of years ago and she needs to move on and let it go.

As I was Chatting with Helen talking about meeting up at Whitsundays and listening to her story with others, over saunters THE GUY, yes I am being gender specific. 

There is always that one person in a fellowship group that annoys the shit out of you.

F#*king Fishing Lures.

This gentlemen with out any introduction or announcement launched into a diatribe of the merits and attributes of Fishing lures with a mono toned voice of an ABC presenter of the 50’s on Prozac. 

Launched with detail as if he were selling that lastest and greatest in F-ing Fishing Lures. The brand, the color, the weight, the length of the trace the weight of the line.  My mind glazed over whilst I tried to see the humour in this unprovoked lecture of F-ing Fishing Lures. 

Did I miss something.

Do I look like I am really into fishing lures.  Surely not, could he see past the mascara and the gossamer of the lipstick on my lips, poised on the edge of a cocktail glass.

Is my inner fisher woman goddess showing.   Sure, I like to fish but what part of my exterior or expressions would give rise to his insistence that I know all the facts about F-ing Fishing Lures.

I did but give him a quizzical all-knowing look when he started talking about the “Cock in the Sock”. This is a method of baiting a lure.  I was familiar with said method having heard about it previously in a more enlightened and engaging fun conversation. 

Ok, I admit that readers(my friends) of my blog would suggest that I would use this terminology in other aspects of my life……………………………..

Cooking being one of my passions and yes this is also a preparation and cooking method described crudely as “Cock in a Sock” by Chefs of the decadent 80’s .

It is likely that this phrase would come forth from me in in more inappropriate conversations with my close friends………………………I digress. 

Basically, for those who are intrigued, it is a method of gang hooking a pilchard then putting a sheath of Squid tube over it to protect it as you drag it at the back of your boat as a lure.

Oh, good Lord, did my absent from his conversation, deep in my own idle thoughts spur him on more,  Need to practice my resting bitch face, I am not interested, and you are annoying me.

On this occasion so irritating and inappropriate was The Guy, I had to say something to shut him up as slowly a warm and engaging group were dispersing and Helen(the grieving Mum) were still in his unrelenting lecture.

Trying my best to respect his story and exhaustive knowledge of F-ing Fishing Lures had come to and end.

“Let kindness be my guide” motto…………………………Kinda went out the window because of his disrespect.

So I decided to interrupt THE GUY and say…………………..”did I miss something in the conversation whilst we were all gathered around with Helen, (grieving Mum), Did you think that there was an opening for a lecture on F-ing Fishing Lures that warranted that you launch into taking over a group conversation listening to the story of the son who was lost at sea.

And with that………………………………. I gave a big hug to Helen.

Nothing disarms that person more; “THE GUY” that is not intuitive to social graces, then when 2  women openly show heartfelt emotion.

Respectful to all life stories, we all have them. Be proud of your own personal story no matter how challenging or difficult it is to tell. Our life experiences good and beautiful, bad and ugly, joyous and sad are events that have shaped our thinking and life pathways.  Our individual stories are unique.  Your story never really defines you completely as your story never ends. 

Your story does not end  it lives in the hearts, mind and souls of those we engage with in the telling.

We  are enriched by sharing stories.

End