Update Day 8 - Friday 16 Dec

Tashi Delek
Mike & Carol Kefford
Fri 16 Dec 2011 16:44

16:57.121N 042:43.849W

 

Miles run – 1091  Miles to go – 1087

 

Today’s guest blogger is Michael, Master of Wine and Hunter Gatherer Aspirant.

 

My next book was to be entitled ‘Game Fish of the mid-Atlantic’.  At least it was until we started losing pink fuzzies (curiously pink lures that are apparently irresistible to fish of every colour and creed) at a rate that made me consider buying shares in the fiendishly clever company that has managed to climb inside the head of a tuna.  Let me explain.  On Day One of Introduction to Maritime Procurement and armed with nothing more than a hand line and a pink fuzzy I landed a small but perfectly respectable mahi mahi.  It served as an admirable starter that evening.  Thus emboldened I set about trawling once again on Day Two.  Within minutes I knew that not only did I have a bite but that said biter was more main meal than starter size.  Cool as a cucumber I slowly brought dinner ever closer to the transom when, within 15 metres of the boat, my quarry did one almighty heave and swam away to freedom.  Cursing Neptune I reeled in the rest of the tackle to find that it had managed to snap the metal ‘tooth proof’ trace and in so doing had run away with the first of the pink fuzzies I was to lose.   Although the fish will be the laughing stock of its social circle with a pink fuzzy hanging from its lower lip we were now down to just two.

 

Day Three saw Mike and I declaring war on anything with scales and fins.  To this end we rigged up a bungee to absorb some of the shock of the ‘hit’ and lashed on the pink fuzzy with enough wire to alter Tashi Delek’s compass bearing.  Twenty minutes after launching our rig Mike drew my attention to the hapless marine creature that was dragging along behind us and occasionally leaping heavenwards in a splendid iridescent ark.  Determined not to lose what was obviously going to provide a welcome respite from our tinned rations I drew him ever closer until, this one too, snapped the gear (this time the spinner).  Another embarrassed fish, another frustrated angler, and another pink fuzzy consigned to Davy Jones locker.  2-1 for the fish.

 

Day Four and down to our last pink fuzzy.  We enlisted still more wire and created what can only be described as an industrial strength rig that would have felt right at home aboard The Pequod.  Hindsight’s a wonderful thing and when the line snapped I was prepared to admit that we’d been a bit over-confident in our equipment and had perhaps not paid equal attention to all parts of our gear.  The price of such hubris:  one pink fuzzy.

 

Dinner that evening of M & S’s tinned lamb mince and tinned fried onions gave us ample opportunity to muse on what could have been and it was at that point that we decided to enlist the services of the fishing rod.  What didn’t we use that from the beginning I hear you ask?  Well, all I can say is that if you do harbour such questions then you’ve probably never wrestled a mahi mahi in the middle of the Atlantic.  Furthermore, I refer you to a book that will be published shortly entitled ‘Game Fishing for Men – an Angler’s Tale’.