Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Apparently there are no longer any fish to be caught in the Camden Haven River—at least, according to every fisherman I have spoken to over the past week . . .
‘Nothing down there’ . . . ‘fished out’ . . . ‘wasting my time’ . . .
And yet they continue to sit there . . . hour after hour . . . day after day . . . week after week . . .
Bless.
Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Every day, sometimes twice a day, for the last 12 years or so I have walked past the dock where the Canopus resides. Two or three days a week the Canopus takes people out ‘deep sea fishing’ and you can set your clock by her. At 6.30am on the dot on the days she is chartered I can hear her distinctive rumbling engine (from my house several blocks away) heading down the river towards the sea—and at 12.00 noon I can hear her again, making her way home.
I have never been out on her myself (not being a fisherperson’ at all), but my girls get very excited when we go past as the passengers are starting to board—lots of new people to wag tails at, get pats from, and plenty of bags and fishy gear to check out.
On a couple of occasions I have had to rescue one of them from some jolly wag who thinks they would make good ‘bait’ for their trip (rude!) but, being good natured, we assume they mean it all in good fun. . .
‘Canopus‘. North Haven.
Sally says . . . eat, sleep, work, read, play, draw, bark . . . 