by Guest » Mon Jun 13, 2005 12:26 pm
Warning PG Rating
This article has been deemed classified as requiring parental guidance and is unfit for viewing by minors, the elderly, the infirm, my wife, my partner, my girlfriend or Michael Vambeck's wife Mary. (There you go Mary, you asked for a wee mention in the next issue and I've mentioned you twice already and I haven't really started yet!). Don't ask me why it is unsuitable for minors - I'd have thought that those big gruff Welshmen who used to spend most of their days underground would have been OK with it, but apparently not.
A wee note to the administrator who has denoted a prescribed format for boat reports: I'm a wee bit of a rebel without applause, so, in my best Christie impersonation, "Hey Kieran 'Reagan', I'm black and I'm pagan, I'm gay and I'm left and I'm free, I'm an unfundamentalist environmentalist, don't impose your rules upon me." ........................... please! If anyone wants a more succinct report on the Swilly then please PM or phone me and if you catch me in a moment of sobriety (so that rules out the times I'm fishing or working) I'll do my best to help.
Right, without further ado, on to the report:
I knew when I got home from work on Friday it was going to be a strange weekend. When I walked into the house the moll was grinning from ear to ear. When I asked her what she was so happy about, she informed me that she had been complimented on her driving. Now this is astonishing as her driving ability lies somewhere between my 18-month old grandson and the blind boys of Alabama (more of them later). It turns out that she had been down town shopping again - no surprise there then - and when she got back to the car she tells me someone had left a not saying "Parking ................................. Fine." See wimmin ......................... I didn't have the heart to tell her. On her renowned shopping escapades all I can say is that she got her credit card stolen out of her purse two months ago and I haven't reported it missing yet as they're spending a damned sight less than her!
Anyway, the strange weekend. We pride ourselves in being a friendly club whose members go out of their way to make visitors welcome. Anyone who has read the Swilly Whitefish & Tope Festival report will know that we stayed late into the night to celebrate with the winners and share in their success. In fact, some of us were so friendly, we stayed long after the competitors had reached home to all four corners of the world - you know; North America, Australia, Hong Kong, and Gweedore - and never reached home ourselves until the next day! Hugo was told in no uncertain terms that, as they say in Scotland, "His jaikit was on a shoogly peg." Now, if Attilla the hun (he must have played in the '50's because I can't remember him) and his gang were attacking you then Hugo would be the person you'd choose to have at your side ........... but up against Sharon, there's only one winner. So, on Sunday, when we were all out fishing, Hugo was spending 'Quality Time' with the family at the outlaws in Kildare. Even Tommy McCallion could count using the fingers on one hand the number of times I've been fishing without Hugo, so you'll understand why I describe it as a strange weekend.
Right, the fishing. Two boats out to sea again. It was rough - Day Jah Voo. I don't actually know what Day Jah Voo means, but Charlie told me to write it as it would make me look interesting and knowledgeable. All I know is that it has been far too rough every time we've went out this year. Do any of you remember the wee sayings that you used at school? You know, like blind as a bat or cunning as a fox? Well, I remember one that describes the sea conditions to a tee. It was rough as a badgers arse. Being curious in nature, I wondered how this one came about. I mean - it's easy to see where blind as a bat came from (that reminds me - I must remember the bit about the Alabama boys). And if you've ever tried to snare a fox it's easy to see how cunning they are. But a Badgers rear end - where did that come from? We used the description at school when referring to girls who were not the most photogenic ..................... well, I didn't because I was much too polite for all that nonsense. Either that or I wasn't too fussy. Anyway, I digress, suffice to say it was choppy with a north westerly buffeting in to us all day.
The 'Explorer' was skippered for the day by Cecil because the usual skipper 'You Jean' had chosen to take a business trip to Denmark instead of carrying out his weekend duties for us. Now I don't know about you's, but I think he's got a strange name - 'You Jean' - but that is what his adoptive mother called him when she picked him at the orphanage. I believe that the true story involves her having a drop too much of the sherry when she arrived and blearily pointing at a nice wee girl Jean that she wanted. The nuns, grasping opportunity with both hands, saw the chance to get rid of the runt and dressed 'You Jean' in a pink shawl and handed him/her over to his new, and somewhat innebriated mother. You can't really blame them - they were tortured with his constant wailing of 'Nobody's Child'. ....................................................... wee side note to 'You Jean' - that'll teach you to go on fancy trips instead of skippering us! Aboard the Explorer were the motley crew comprising of Johnny McCormack and his son Stephen, Clayton Morrison, Richard and Leslie Hamilton, and the cabin boy Angela. Why am I thinking of Captain Pugwash and 'Roger the Cabin Boy' at this point? Look, it's Monday morning, I'm hungover, and the brain is not yet functioning properly!
Apologies for digressing here for a minute, but Donegal Garda have had a hard time recently but credit where credit is due. The local Garda, Garda Paddy Battle, rules the region with a firm but fair hand. Not for him the stifling beauracy of the court system that generally lets offenders off with a slap on the wrist. No, much more pragmatic is Gda Battle. On Saturday night he caught two guys breaking in to the lifeboat station. One was stealing the battery and the other was thieving the flare. Gda Battle charged one and let the other off. Another example of his summary justice was the case of the two Hamilton's. Gda Battle had arranged for the two to be taken out to sea for the day. We did our public duty and to sea they did go. Eight hours of violent sickness later and I'm sure they were cured. Whatever crime they had committed, I'm sure won't be seen in Rathmullen for years to come.
The Enterprise, skippered by Niall 'Tyson' Doherty ably assisted by Teddy ...................................... well, that bit is pure exaggeration. Teddy was useless. Still drunk from the day before when he was at a Christening! You just can't get the staff these days. Also aboard were Michael 'Kevin McBride' Vambeck, Charlie Devlin, Pat McGinty, Eunan Quinn, Stephen Devlin, Martin McGuigan, Dermott Gildea, Gerry Murphy and myself.
Bait - we stopped for Mackerel. Thoosan's of them, but every one of them the size of sardines .................. but that's OK. (Note - that was a very concise, accurate, and helpful bit of reporting there even if I do say so myself!)
Out to the wreck of the Laurentic. No more than five minutes into the first drift and Michael 'Its a Specimen' Vambeck was calling Niall for the net as he was bringing in a likely specimen Pollock. Ever the helpful skipper - he's the best skipper in the world you know - Niall came to Michael's aid and duly netted the fish. Michael, forever the artisan, pirouetted with all the grace of one of Chipperfield's elephants and clocked his 8oz weight off Niall's napper. Dazed and concussed, Niall was helped back to his stool and refused to come out for the next round. Later, as he came round, he was heard mumbling barely coherently about running the Enterprise aground near the tip of Mount Errigal in a terrible flood and rescuing all God's creatures two by two. He was definitely heard counting "Sheep - two - check, Goats - two - check, Coo's - two - check, Snakes - two - check, St Patrick and Mother Theresa - two - check, Michael Vambeck's - two - check" ...................... Jesus, that concussion is a frightening thing! Incidently, the Pollock was a counter at 380.5mm.
Back to the fishing - Pouting by the bucketload, a Cuckoo Wrasse, some but not many Coalies, and all bar the novices and Vambeck got their quota of Pollock. I must tell you about the most inspired bit of fishing by one of the anglers. Despite a heavy swell, and despite a fast drift, Arthur (aye, that's me in case you missed it reader) used skill rarely seen in these isles to send down a beautifully presented bait to lure a good Ling. He teased the fish to the bait and plucked the hook into the corner of the fishes mouth. With the poise of an olympic athlete and the grace of a ballerina he fought the fish from the mangled superstructure of the wreck and caoxed it to the surface where astonishingly he landed the fish without need of a net. A truly remarkable example of fishing at its finest. Oh aye, and Charlie was dead lucky and caught a Ling. Meanwhile the other boat had a similar fare.
On the way from the wreck to 'The Sixteen' I got a strange phone call from Pat's partner, Frances. Now over the years I have become the 'Wise Man' of the club. I don't know why, but if anyone has any problems, it is usually to me they come. Now generally I don't mind and have actually become quite adept at some of the gynacological interventions - that reminds me, Michael, stop being so miserable and give Mary some more dig money. DIY with candle wax is leaving her with a helluva rash - but some guys are just nuisances. Michael, I don't know if viagra will help, and no, I don't know if it is the combination of Guinness and Vindaloo's that are causing the holes in your colostomy bag. Anyway, Frances phoned me in a bit of concern. I had to be discrete as Pat was nearby, but I managed OK. Frances said she was really concerned because Pat apparently can't stop singing The Green Green Grass of Home. I told her it sounded like Tom Jones syndrome. She asked me if it was common and I told her "It's not unusual." Hopefully that will reassure her.
Once inside the sixteen we commenced the second half of the fishing. Eunan and I were drawn in either corner at the back of the boat. Eunan was suffering terribly after the ride in from the wreck and was throwing up over the side in his corner. I was down tide from him and, ever the opportunist, snapped on my doggy gear. It worked a treat with two dogs coming to the boat. Inspired or what? I knew that they had the same predatory instincts as their larger cousins. The usual Gurnards and a couple of Coalies were picked up but really it was hard work until near the end when we hit a decent patch and all-too-soon it was lines up.
When the pitching and tossing was over and the scores were counted, Johnny McCormack had won the day with 145 points. He must have been really embarrassed by the adulation he received as he was as red as ............. well, as red as a really red thing. He certainly coudn't have been sunburned out in that weather. Pat McGinty had 141, I had 136, Charlie Devlin 124, the cabin boy 120, Clayton Morrison 117 and Michael Vambeck significantly less! I must point out that Clayton is actually called Clayton Duncan but for some reason I always call him Clayton, or even Clinton, Morrison. I have no idea why as he isn't black and apparently is quite good at football, so he bears no resemblance whatsoever to the Ireland guy.
I had intended mentioning the Alabama boys, however, due to an urgent need to go and lie down in a darkened room, I'll save it to the next report.
A final word for Michael 'Specimen' Vambeck who gets jealous and annoyed if he's left out of these reports ............................................................ Michael, you were pish.
But fair's fair. I'm not one to single one guy out when he's not alone, and any criticism is always carefully chosen to be constructive. You were not alone this week. Yourself and Hugo really need to put more effort in. You's were both pish.