A few years ago, in my search for fish and good spots to catch them from with no-one else around, I found myself on a small rock groin. There are a few of these that are scattered every few hundred meters along the coast at this location -(they trap the sand so it 'stays' in one place).
I'd been there an hour or so, back to the wind, happily fishing away -(not catching anything, that's ok though - a catch is just a bonus) and minding my own fucking business.
Along comes a surfie - who proceeds to ask me to fish somewhere else as he wanted to surf where I was fishing. Being the caring sharing type that I am, when I finished laughing, I politely said for him to stick his surfboard up his arse and fuck off.
Rather unwisely, I felt, he decided to surf where I was fishing anyway. The set up that I was using that day was a ten foot beach rod, fifty pound line with a trace and a set of triple gang hooks with a treble behind them. I mentioned to the cunt that it was his look out and if he got caught - so be it.
Well it took a few casts, but eventually, my hooks ended up in a head full of dreadlocks about fifty meters out. As a keen fisherman I have caught heaps of differant species, they all put up a differant sort of fight. I'd never caught a surfie before.
I set the drag and commenced the fight, sort of like catching a stingray or a big clump of weed, that yells.
Pump and wind, pump and wind - its getting closer and louder - attached to it is a surfboard, sort of like a ramora on a shark.
The surfie got a bit of help from a wave and gained a few meters, luckily the fifty pound line held. And about ten minutes later it was nearly at the rocks at my feet. Then, as sometimes happens, it gave a flick of the head and got off. Spew. The first one i'd hooked and it's gotten away - oh well saves gutting it and all.
Interestingly, the surfie didn't want to play anymore and seemed a bit pissed off for some reason - and off it went towards the carpark - where my old landcruiser is the only car there.
I was not worried.
When I finished fishing - didn't get anything else - I goes back to the ute, and can see by the tracks that the surfie had approached the ute, closely - hmmm, maybe he had evil intentions - bad move - that is where the dog stays.
The dog is a bit more, ( actually rather a lot more), anti social than I am and takes exception to folks going near "his" ute, the tracks showed that the surfie had met the dog and decided to do the bolt rather quickly - well at a run if truth be told. The dog sat smiling at me through the scars on his snout, he'd had a fun day as well. Ripped the top off a beer and fucked off back to the bush and whatever new adventures awaited us.
I think I'll go fishing today.