For the past 4 years a girlfriend and I enter a local fishing competition. First prize is a boat and motor and trailer. There are other prizes too, but we covert the big one. Today was the fishing comp. Today was a total fucking fiasco from word go. I was up before dawn, (the comp starts at 8.00am at a designated point on the river so we had to travel to it), and I made my chicken noodle soup. My sandwiches, packed my beers and my coffee. And the stinky fish body for the bait nets and some tackle and the soft drink. She turned up at 7.15 (next door neighbour) and was ready to go. Yay! “This year we’re gonna win the boat and motor!”
We motor along in the SO’s green Holden Storm ute (hot, apparently, but I don’t excited about cars) with our rods, singing along the way. It’s gonna be a good day, I can feel it.
Fuck. Where are our fishing licenses? In the other car. Back we go. Let’s begin again. We get to the designated point. Lots of people fishing in boats, not many on the bank. Our chances for the big one improve. (There are better prizes for women fishing off the bank than in boats). We find a nice spot and bait up with worms. My very first cast sees me lose my winder. In the river. I have to go in after it (photo to follow of DellieM looking very silly climbing out the reeds because my little monkey toes could not find it).
Oh La. Call SO and give him directions to bring another rod. Meantime, my bestie catches a lovely fish, undersize, throw it back. I catch lovely fish, undersize, throw it back. She catches lovely fish. Undersize, throw it back. SO arrives with another rod. Big kiss - now go away, fishing is all important. Few nibbles on rod, eat soup, spill scalding hot motherfucking soup over boobs! :eek: Relax, dip in river - to calm the blisters surely forming.
Check bait nets. Stinky fish not working well, shrimp are almost micrscopic. Chuck stinky fish bait away. Lose net. Must go after net in very cold river. Once more I am in the drink. I need a beer.
Rescue net. Stand on bathurst burr. Owwwwwwwwwww!
Take stinky fishy bags up the bank to the bin on girlfriend’s request. On the way back from the bin, hear girlfriend “Delllliiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee - We’re in!!!” Loose translation, “I pulled in your rod and there’s a big mofo on the end” We had to catch a “keeper” to be in the running for the big prize, we were in! Hooray for us. What a team effort - my rod, she pulled it in! We would share first prize! Hooray! Not so.
We put the fish in the fish keeper. Happy fish. Happy girls. The competition officers came over and said …
“Nice fish - 38cm.”
We said “thank you”
"They said “shame it’s a protected species. It has to be a GOLDEN perch and this is a SILVER perch, can’t you hear it grunting?”
Grunting? I said “I’m sorry you terribly nice officials, I didn’t give it a cuddle or anything, so no, I didn’t hear it grunt.”
They let our fish go.
When they pulled away from the bank I called them every four letter word I know and then I made some up.
Long story short - we didn’t win. I didn’t drink NEARLY enough beer. I went into the drink a dozen times, mostly to loosen my gf’s snags, I hooked my fingers 4 times, lost my rig 4 times in snags, left a fortune in bait and hooks and sinkers in the river, my gf got sunburned terribly on her legs. And we didn’t win the fucking boat and motor.
But there’s always next year. 
