One dead shark equals three new ones...delivered by 'hand'!
- Thread starter Pippen
- Start date
fishin solo
Well-Known Member
That's pretty cool ! Where was that Scott ?
Pippen
Well-Known Member
Hahaha......I have no idea, just saw it on Facebook.
Dave H
Well-Known Member
Seems a good spot to tell this tale again.
In 1969 my Father and Stepmother purchased an elderly wooden boat called The Bunty. She was 26 ft long, had a model 4-52 Gray Marine engine and served as the family cruiser for many years. Kept at Porpoise Bay in Sechelt she carried Dad and Hazel on many an adventure during the following years. Dad fished a lot from the Bunty, often with mixed results, as he is not famed for his angling expertise.
A couple of entries from his log will serve to illustrate what I mean.
July 17th, 1972: Calm…Cloudy. Many fish jumping. Tried fishing. No fish!
July 23rd, 1972: Calm…Stop. Jig for cod. No cod. Move. Jig for cod. No cod. Move again. Jig for cod. No cod………..Eat ham sandwich.
Nonetheless, Dad did have his moments of glory, none greater than when he won the Dinghy Derby.
The Dinghy Derby was held as part of a Sunshine Coast Power Squadron cruise out to Hardy Island. Upon reaching Dolphin Bay all nine boats rafted up and the dinghies were launched. The rules were simple. All fishing must be done from the dinghy, all species were eligible, all laws must be obeyed and all decisions were final.
There were three prizes offered, one for the biggest fish, one for the smallest fish, and one for the most fish. Anticipation ran high, as there were bragging rights at stake, not a small thing amongst anglers.
Dad is nothing, if not resourceful, and he had a strategy. He figured that the other competitors would most likely troll for salmon, so he decided to jig for bottom fish. Rowing a dinghy in order to troll seemed like too much effort.
The starting bell dinged and the derby began. Hazel was directed to handle the oars and Dad commenced jigging…….and jigging…..and jigging. His pace grew more feverish as time wore on and his plan seemed destined to fail. His efforts were finally rewarded by the capture of two small rockfish that were allowed to swim around in the small tub Dad had brought along.
Hazel then suggested they go ashore and see if they could find any oysters, as the rules stated that any species of “fish” were legal, and oysters were a shellfish, she reasoned. Dad agreed, so ashore they went. Unfortunately, the beaches had pretty well been stripped clean and only two oysters were found. Dad was disappointed in their haul and time was running out so they started back towards the anchored flotilla. As a last ditch measure he decreed they would troll slowly as he had an ancient piece of herring that he felt might still attract something.
As they neared the other boats Dad was delighted to get a strike. He quickly reeled in what proved to be a rather large dogfish, which he gaffed through the lips. Not wishing to bring it aboard the dinghy as space was at a premium, they towed it back to the Bunty.
Dad was less than optimistic about their chances, as he was sure someone else must have caught something bigger, or caught more fish, but it wasn’t a major concern, as it was a fun derby after all, although pride was definitely at stake.
His optimism improved considerably when Hazel noted that the dogfish was a female and in the process of giving birth. Dad quickly grabbed her and, holding her over the tub, managed to massage eight new-borns from her belly, much to the consternation of the other participants who were watching, several of whom were already questioning the legitimacy of including oysters in the catch.
When the final tally was made, Dad and Hazel had two rockfish, two oysters, one large dogfish and eight baby dogfish. Even after the oysters were disqualified on the grounds they hadn’t been “caught” from the dinghy, Dad and Hazel were declared the winners. In fact, they had a clean sweep as they had the biggest fish, the smallest fish and the most fish.
Never has an angler been more proud, and when I was visiting him a few years back he still had what he described as; “the finest foil-festooned plastic wine glass trophy ever made.”
To this day he remains convinced that it was his angling skill, rather than pure chance that brought victory to the crew of the Bunty. Naturally, this is a conviction not shared by the other participants.
NOTE: Dad turned 93 a short time ago and this story was one that was told at his Birthday party back when he turned 80.
He still has his “trophy.”
Take care.
In 1969 my Father and Stepmother purchased an elderly wooden boat called The Bunty. She was 26 ft long, had a model 4-52 Gray Marine engine and served as the family cruiser for many years. Kept at Porpoise Bay in Sechelt she carried Dad and Hazel on many an adventure during the following years. Dad fished a lot from the Bunty, often with mixed results, as he is not famed for his angling expertise.
A couple of entries from his log will serve to illustrate what I mean.
July 17th, 1972: Calm…Cloudy. Many fish jumping. Tried fishing. No fish!
July 23rd, 1972: Calm…Stop. Jig for cod. No cod. Move. Jig for cod. No cod. Move again. Jig for cod. No cod………..Eat ham sandwich.
Nonetheless, Dad did have his moments of glory, none greater than when he won the Dinghy Derby.
The Dinghy Derby was held as part of a Sunshine Coast Power Squadron cruise out to Hardy Island. Upon reaching Dolphin Bay all nine boats rafted up and the dinghies were launched. The rules were simple. All fishing must be done from the dinghy, all species were eligible, all laws must be obeyed and all decisions were final.
There were three prizes offered, one for the biggest fish, one for the smallest fish, and one for the most fish. Anticipation ran high, as there were bragging rights at stake, not a small thing amongst anglers.
Dad is nothing, if not resourceful, and he had a strategy. He figured that the other competitors would most likely troll for salmon, so he decided to jig for bottom fish. Rowing a dinghy in order to troll seemed like too much effort.
The starting bell dinged and the derby began. Hazel was directed to handle the oars and Dad commenced jigging…….and jigging…..and jigging. His pace grew more feverish as time wore on and his plan seemed destined to fail. His efforts were finally rewarded by the capture of two small rockfish that were allowed to swim around in the small tub Dad had brought along.
Hazel then suggested they go ashore and see if they could find any oysters, as the rules stated that any species of “fish” were legal, and oysters were a shellfish, she reasoned. Dad agreed, so ashore they went. Unfortunately, the beaches had pretty well been stripped clean and only two oysters were found. Dad was disappointed in their haul and time was running out so they started back towards the anchored flotilla. As a last ditch measure he decreed they would troll slowly as he had an ancient piece of herring that he felt might still attract something.
As they neared the other boats Dad was delighted to get a strike. He quickly reeled in what proved to be a rather large dogfish, which he gaffed through the lips. Not wishing to bring it aboard the dinghy as space was at a premium, they towed it back to the Bunty.
Dad was less than optimistic about their chances, as he was sure someone else must have caught something bigger, or caught more fish, but it wasn’t a major concern, as it was a fun derby after all, although pride was definitely at stake.
His optimism improved considerably when Hazel noted that the dogfish was a female and in the process of giving birth. Dad quickly grabbed her and, holding her over the tub, managed to massage eight new-borns from her belly, much to the consternation of the other participants who were watching, several of whom were already questioning the legitimacy of including oysters in the catch.
When the final tally was made, Dad and Hazel had two rockfish, two oysters, one large dogfish and eight baby dogfish. Even after the oysters were disqualified on the grounds they hadn’t been “caught” from the dinghy, Dad and Hazel were declared the winners. In fact, they had a clean sweep as they had the biggest fish, the smallest fish and the most fish.
Never has an angler been more proud, and when I was visiting him a few years back he still had what he described as; “the finest foil-festooned plastic wine glass trophy ever made.”
To this day he remains convinced that it was his angling skill, rather than pure chance that brought victory to the crew of the Bunty. Naturally, this is a conviction not shared by the other participants.
NOTE: Dad turned 93 a short time ago and this story was one that was told at his Birthday party back when he turned 80.
He still has his “trophy.”
Take care.
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