Fish all night. Fix the boat, nets, and sleep during the day. Interesting life.
I don’t have any new Canadian photos to post, but in honour of my country’s 146th birthday I have posted a photo of what I have come to think of as my home. I hope you like it.
To my Canadian friends and family…Happy Canada Day!
We took a tour of the west of Lombok and our driver took us to Ampenan. Ampenan is a town that is now part of the greater Mataram area (Mataram is the capital city of Lombok). Ampenan is also a town full of fishermen. These are their boats. Well…this is the front row of boats. There are two, or three, rows of boats behind this row.
Every night, all of the fishermen push these boats out into the water and fish, and in the morning they come back in and take their fish to market. When I think about the hundreds of boats on the beach, I cannot imagine it empty, yet every night it is.
I’m sick, but beautiful sunrises always cheer me up.
That little speck down in the water is a man. A fisher man. A fisherman.
Also, this was my first attempt at this week’s WordPress Photo Challenge, Through, but when I looked at it when I got it home all I could think was that he was too small to really see. Still, I like the photo.
Ah, Monty Python.
As for the photo, that’s a lot of dead fish that are washing up on the sandbar after they’ve spawned. As you can imagine, it smells awesome. Awesome like a dumpster in hot sunlight.
That guy on the sandbar was among the dozens of other guys out on the river. You can check out yesterday’s photo to see the numbers.
I grew up in Saskatchewan and my grandfather used to take me fishing on his boat on Weyakwin Lake. It was beautiful. This is a lot more crowded (both with other fishermen and dead fish) than what I grew up with and I think I’ll keep my memories, rather than replace them with bad smells and claustrophobia.
…hope it’s not too crowded out there for you.
Actually, this is the Vedder Canal, just a little west of Chilliwack, BC. It has been lined with fishermen…fisherpeople?…for the last few weeks, from dawn to dusk. I drive over the Keith Wilson Bridge, which crosses the Vedder Canal, every morning to get to work and there have been very few days where I’ve beat these guys to the river.
The worst part of this photo is the smell, which you should be thankful you can’t experience. The river right now is full of dead fish who’ve spawned and died. The river’s edge is lined with carcasses. Yum.
If you can get past the smell, the scenery is pretty nice and the barbecued salmon you’d be eating after a day at the river would be pretty delicious. Come on over. BC’s pretty nice.
If you’re a fisherman (is the p.c. version of that “fisher-person”?), then you know already that it’s fishing season here in the Fraser Valley of British Columbia. Everyone I know is talking about how they want to get on the river and fish, or what they caught this morning before work, or how many “pinks” are running right now. And me?
I like it when others do the work – catch it, gut it, filet it, flash freeze it and vacuum seal it – and then let me throw some olive oil and lemon peel on it, slap it on a cedar plank in the BBQ and eat it. That’s where I shine. The cooking and eating end of things. I’m not really into the whole fishing “thing”.
That said, I haven’t been fishing since I was 14, so maybe I would like it. Hmm…I wonder if anyone’s got some waders I could borrow?
BTW, extra credit if you can tell me what inspired the title of this post. Seriously. I’ll be impressed if you can remember where you first heard that phrase.
and he’ll eat for a lifetime.
Photography in late Winter in the lower mainland of BC is a dodgy endeavor. If there’s a nice day to be had, I’m out with my camera snapping as many shots as possible. The next day might be crappy, like today. Yesterday, there were short bursts of rain, but the day was more win than lose.
Around here, if there’s sun, there’s fishermen. There were a great number of men out in the water yesterday. None of them seemed to be catching much, but they reminded me of that movie A River Runs Through It. There is something very Zen about standing in cold water up to your knees manipulating hand-made flies over shallow water to entice a fish to bite. Most of it seems like action with no purpose other than beautiful, slow movement. Makes for interesting photos, though.
When I see someone fishing, fly-fishing, trolling, whatever, it makes me want to fish. When I was a kid I used to fish from a boat. My Grandfather’s boat. He would wake up early and check the weather and then wake me up to get me on the boat. At ten years old I had so little consciousness at 6:00 a.m. that I’m surprised I didn’t fall into the lake and drown, but had so much respect for, and fear of, my grandfather that I got up and went out with him.
We’d sit on the water in the boat and say nothing for an hour. The sun would come up and the lake would light up beautifully and the fish would ignore us, or not, and we’d fish. The only breaks in silence would be a loon on the lake and the water lapping against the boat. Grandpa would start the engine and tell me to hold on to the rods and we’d troll and hope to get some fish. If we didn’t, we’d be back on the lake later in the day. Truthfully, we’d be on the boat later anyway, whether we’d caught fish or not.
When I see someone fishing now it makes me long for the fishing trips of my youth and their silence and peace and unspoken understandings.
Pentax K20D; Pentax DA 18-55mm AL II; f 7.1; ISO 100; 1/250 sec.