Copyright © 2021 Larry Johnson
It was a fine day when Oscar awoke; and the thought occurred that it may be a morning for fishing. Having not arisen early enough there was not much prospect of considerable action with that activity, but Oscar liked his quiet time and fishing seemed to suit this disposition. Most of all he was in the mood for the tranquil rather than the intense, and fishing, not angling, had its attraction this day. Oscar always made a distinction between fishing and angling. The latter meant you had to undertake something more extensive – make a concerted effort to land the fish. The former involved casting bait into the water and surveying the surrounding environment; often in a vague state that resulted in observing without mindfully registering the vista or surrounding activity.
The previous night had been somewhat of a disappointment. One of those hopeful moments when one thinks they may be able to initiate some courtship with a female co-worker. Sally had seemed such a nice young lady, but it’s sometimes difficult, and often misadventure, to determine a relationship’s suitability in the environment of the workplace. This is particularly the case when the two parties conduct their employment from different departments, and the whole possibility of compatibility is based on a limited knowledge of the other’s interior disposition and more on physical appearance. Nonetheless, it was foreordained that Oscar would allow his brain to render into jelly in the matter and the consequences were predictably unfortunate.
It was customary each Friday night for the staff to meet at the nearest Inn – or the designated one at least, as there were several in proximity. Oscar was not a regular attendee, but he became so convinced, deluded he would now claim, of the possibility of courtship with the stated lady. As always, these occasions began in a sedate manner prior to an exponential increase in volume and raucousness due to over-indulgence in liquid merriment. It soon became apparent that Oscar and Sally were never to be a twosome, as after several refusals by her of Oscar’s offer to buy her a drink, the poor chap retreated to a dark corner of the room to mull over his misfortune and descend into an episode of unconcealed unsociability. Normally, this would be enough to devastate the ego, but compounding the tribulation was the fact that some ‘flash Harry’ was now partaking in the success to which Oscar had hoped. Moreover, he then observed that after several beverages of the alcoholic type, paid for by stated ‘flash Harry,’ the object of his previous affections was displaying verbiage and manners as foul as any of the roughest and crudest of men.
Henceforth, Oscar was left with the singular option of retreat and after delivering the perfunctory farewells to those present, departed to catch the earliest possible train home. The journey began in an understandably morose disposition, with ponderances on everything from his undeserved misfortune to whether he had made a total buffoon of himself in the eyes of those present. However, the trip home required some significant period, and the advantages of such circumstance provided an opportunity for deliberation. Oscar ultimately considered that people’s opinions could be assuaged over time, and furthermore he had unequivocally avoided substantial future angst through the revelation of the lady’s true colours.
The preparation for Oscar’s fishing excursion was brief to say the least. A few things were gathered and packed in the car, but the inadequacy of the preparation was demonstrated when he had to return home shortly after leaving to collect the fishing rod. Perhaps his mind was still hindered by the previous night’s dissipation of hope, but the drive to the river cleared his mind sufficiently to remember purchase of bait on the way. Oscar chose frozen prawns; not the serious fisherman’s preferred choice, but as mentioned the endeavour was more about tranquility rather than feverish activity.
At the river there was a smallish jetty alongside which was a boat ramp and on the other side a bank with a modest incline. Oscar chose a position some way along the bank where little activity was observed, and a tree provided some shade from the sun’s heat; the branches being sufficiently high to avoid a crisis should there be too steep a casting action. Oscar was somewhat impatient to fling the line into the water in order to begin doing not much else, so even though the prawns hadn’t thawed out it was decided a start was still possible. Unfortunately, the commencement was delayed as the prawns readily crumbled around the hook due to their brittleness, but Oscar, feeling as though he should adopt a positive outlook, reconciled himself to the task of grabbing a catnap until the bait felt ready to undertake its task. The peace sought by Oscar was soon interrupted by an approaching voice.
‘Hello matey!’ the approaching voice boomed.
Oscar awoke with a start and when able to focus on the individual he descried one of the co-workers who had attended the previous night’s gathering.
‘What’s happening Oscar? Doing a bit of fishing?’ said the individual named Josh.
Thinking himself somewhat more cerebral than the visitor, Oscar wondered why Josh failed to see why his second question answered the first. However, being mostly a tolerant fellow Oscar replied, ‘I certainly had that in mind Josh.’
Oscar was full of hope that after this brief encounter Josh may move along. Surely there were other things to which the man needed to attend. Ah, but no! And this was especially irksome, as this was the man who had obstructed his hopes regarding Sally the night before. Oscar was a bit surprised at the emotions that this stirred within. However, he attributed it to pride and the male ego, given that it was obvious the lady had shown herself to be an entirely unsuitable match for him.
‘Great girl that Sally,’ asserted Josh.
‘Really?’ said Oscar with a hint of the sardonic.
‘Yeh, Yeh, really down to earth.’
Oscar wondered what kind of earth the chap meant. Not knowing whether he could persevere with this routine indefinitely, Oscar decided that a brooding silence may render termination of the encounter possible; and to his utter amazement the technique worked a charm.
‘Well matey, I’d best be pushing on. I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Certainly,’ replied Oscar.
As the vanquisher walked away Oscar couldn’t help but consider what a perfect match Josh and Sally could be.
All became serene for a while. Oscar’s bait had thawed out and was now ready for the hook. No berley was forthcoming, ‘don’t want the fish to be too interested today,’ thought Oscar. Alas, no sooner had the line been cast, than further disruption arrived by way of another fisherman who decided to set up camp about ten metres upstream. Compounding the issue was the fact that the gentleman appeared quite serious about catching fish; judging by the size of the tackle box and esky – not to mention the backpack.
‘No objections to my positioning?’ It’s just that I usually fish here,’ he stated. ‘I get good results.’
‘None at all’ replied Oscar, betraying his real feelings. He really did long for some distance between him and his fellow man today; and the news that there may be fish around and that it may be necessary to engage more fully in the activity was disconcerting.
‘We just need to watch our lines,’ replied the other. ‘The way the river is running it would be good to use sinkers of like weight. If you use a heavier one than I the lines may cross.’ I’m using a number one, eight gram – how about yourself?’
‘Well, this is really beyond the pale,’ thought Oscar, not having any idea of what sinker classification he had cast into the deep. It remained the case that Oscar wasn’t at all fanatical about the activity, to the point that either the sinker was a small or big one. ‘I’m using one of these!’ he exclaimed.
‘Oh! That looks like a sixteen gram one. Your line might get bogged down and we may cross.’
The easiest thing would have been for Oscar to suggest swapping positions, but he had the benefit of some shade where he was, so he generously agreed to alter his tackle. Perhaps once accomplished, the circumstance may then settle into that which he had hoped to experience – tranquility.
Indeed, there was some peacefulness for a little while; but only for a brief time, as he observed the interloper commencing to berley! ‘You must be kidding,’ thought Oscar. This will only attract fish. The man is angling – I just want to fish! ‘Perhaps the fish are off the bite anyway,’ he thought. Certainly, time elapsed without incident and Oscar altered between states of alert, semi-alert, somnolence, and sleep. An hour passed by, and all was well. Even though the interloper was continuing to berley feverishly, there was still no action regarding hungry fish. The day was rectifying itself finally. During periods of attentiveness Oscar took in the scenery. A mellow zephyr rustling the leaves of the eucalypt trees, every now and then a waft of camphor laurel, and birds of many types frolicking with aerial acrobatics. There were small dinghies bobbing around on a gentle swell and glitter-like specks flickered with the movement of the water. At times Oscar became absorbed by the silence; absorbed into the stillness. He would close his eyes and seemed to float in the nothingness. He would be somewhere else but there was nothing in this somewhere; suspended in serenity. This mood was not dependent on whether his eyes were open or closed. He would look but not see and thought was foreign to his mind: a trance-like state.
Oscar was not cognizant as to how long he had enjoyed this peace, but he was aware of what disrupted it.
‘Hullo!’ hollered the interloper. ‘It looks like I’ve latched on to a beauty.’
Once Oscar was jolted out of his bliss, he found himself annoyed and somewhat underwhelmed with this most recent event. As if the noise wasn’t sufficient, the botherer with the fish on the end of his line then began to pace towards him, as it was evident the fish was making a horizontal run which meant that he would need to adjust his position to avoid the entanglement of lines.
‘If you could just lift your rod and line so I can duck under’ cried the other, ‘looks like I’m headed downstream for the fight.’
Oscar was a bit slow on the uptake though, perhaps still a bit jaded from his reverie, with the consequence that as he lifted the line it caught the man with the fish under the nose. ‘Oh, my word, what are you doing son?’ he protested. The unfortunate event triggered a sneezing attack for the ambitious angler; but rather than being deterred he courageously continued his tussle with the fish, sneezing and sniffling his way downstream, one hand managing rod and line and the other engaged with a handkerchief to manage the ill-timed nasal condition.
The reader would now assume that I would report a return to blissful countenance for Oscar. However, matters often don’t occur as we suppose. It happened that when Oscar picked up his rod, he was surprised to feel a tug at the other end. He impulsively returned the tug, and it was confirmed that the fish now at war with the interloper had a mate who had now decided to evaluate Oscar’s fishing skills. Oscar’s first instinct was to cut the line and go home, but against his better judgement he decided that as the day had been one of mixed success, something fresh for dinner may as well accompany him on the return journey. As it transpired, the fish was as stubborn as its counterpart and led him upstream on a merry chase. I use the word merry in the sense of spirited rather than cheerful, as Oscar, after some time, became increasingly frustrated. But peculiarly enough, the more frustrated he grew, the greater became the manifestation of stubbornness. Consequently, there was more than one obstacle he had to negotiate, ducking under jetties, and traversing his way around pier supports; even wading knee-deep in water to avoid snagging on bridge pillars.
However, everyone and every task has its limits, and both had apparently been reached. Thoughts of ‘I’ve had enough of this piscatorial pest,’ and ‘I’ll finish you off well and truly fish,’ manifested themselves vehemently within Oscar’s frayed wit. There is a point where something or some difficulty becomes a fixation and all external matters are, to all intents and purposes, non-existent. Oscar was now at the opposite end of the spectrum to his earlier tranquil state. With this single-minded intent he now had decided upon an action that was all or nothing, win or lose, glory or humiliation. The rest of humanity now excluded from the perimeter of his mind, with one almighty jerk, he wrenched his line from the water. The piscatorial pest would come, or it would not; and indeed it did – come. The tug was so violent that the stated fish left the water at such elevation and speed that it seemed to have had wings. In some sense the spectacle appeared even graceful, a brilliant white whiting spearing through the air at a fast rate of knots. As it was pointed out, Oscar had become quite unaware of his surroundings. Moreover, it was most unfortunate that the fish didn’t have wings. If it had, they may have prevented it crash-landing onto a picnic table. It is also unfortunate that the picnic table was at the time occupied by a family quietly enjoying their lunch. It was a wonderful fare that had been prepared. Some smoked ham, pasta salad, other assorted condiments and a bowl of garden salad that had now been enriched with whole raw whiting.
We have all had that shock felt when the real world has suddenly materialized after we have been engulfed in a frenzied state, to the exclusion of other concerns. This was where Oscar found himself and his response was obvious in the manifestation of embarrassment and the communication of repeated apologies to all concerned. Exhausted, Oscar departed from the scene of the horrible event. It was in haste he returned to his things, still resting peacefully on the bank of the river. The interloper was nowhere to be seen; perhaps he was still in pursuit of his opponent. In any case the day was closing in and it was time to withdraw to the more peaceful location of his home.
It was a fine day for fishing, but not at all a fine fishing day.
