The day began with a sense that all would be well as it should be under blue and calm skies.
The parking lot near the public launching ramps was jammed with trucks and trailers fitting into all shapes and sizes which in a mysterious way matched not only the vessels they pulled and carried but also the collection of characters destined to navigate the various contraptions out upon the Pacific for a day of searching for 15 or so different types of evasive ichthyic creatures who in their own right, hugged the bottom amongst the rocks in the dark cold waters unsuspecting of the wrath about to fall upon them.
Money, sweat, toil and even a little blood was shed by the hunters in their beer soaked pursuit of these creatures. Of course if the fishermen were sane enough to sit down and calculate their costs on a per fish basis they would quickly conclude that a sit down with their local Sushi Chef would be a more productive expense for the consumption of these little creatures. They would even get a little rice and seaweed washed down with some beer or Saki, but beer is not the problem here, it is the solution. Beer is the lubricant that makes this pursuit worthwhile. That, a little sunburn and maybe a little “mal de mar” are just part of the grand deal these men have made with nature.
And so it goes. Man, fish, the sea and boats moving in pursuit of a dream. A dream of escaping the hum drum world inside the edges of that grand expanse of liquid desert.
The sun sets over the fishing grounds, and all is calm. The wind hints a change but for now, all is well.