my brother, Barry, and I went fishing (Legendary Rockfishing) twice and had a great holiday. It’s mid summer, weather’s strange, but warm, maybe not strange at all, it’s all good. I don’t have any resolutions for this year and won’t even state that I plan to write more.
I’ve been thinking about how to offer the online content I create in a different format, and am working on that in the background. In the foreground, there is lots happening, family, friends, visitors, work, and some exciting stuff. All good stuff
walking back to camp with a bunch of rods in hand, a yellow tail protruding from the pack, long-haired, English.
The pursuit and challenge of landing his majesty from the rocks attracting him to this part of the world; walking the coast lines of the Coromandel, reading the terrain, the ledges, the currents, the winds.
The white man’s idea of a vacation is to stand on the rocks, gimbal around his waist, the popper rod on his side, bait fish caught swimming in a rock pool close by, the gaff might be too far away, but the live bait rod secured in his hands, and a pack of chips and canned tuna in his pack.