I am still in bed, resting after a long day on the water yesterday. We got back from our fishing and snorkeling tour at about 6:00 PM. We went to our room to rest up a bit before dinner. I fell asleep. When Emma woke me at 7:30 PM to go to dinner, I said she should go without me. I needed to rest. I stayed asleep pretty much until around 10:00 AM this morning. I think I was pretty tired.
The fishing tour yesterday was a success for Emma; she had a great time snorkeling in the waters of the Pacific, drifting in and about the coral reef in the small cove hosting the memorial to Captain Cook. The obelisk commemorating his death is right on the spot where he fell. It is a beautiful little cove, now a marine park, with abundant small fish and a host of coral types. Emma loved it all.
I, on the other hand, did not do so well with the fishing; I got skunked. Marlin fishing is a low probability exercise. Only about half the charters actually get a bite. Of that, about half the fish get off the bite. So only about 25% of charters actually bring home a big one. Yesterday, of the dozen or so charter boats leaving the harbour, only one returned with marlin as far as I could tell.
Still, I was disappointed in the outcome. Actually big boat charters like the one yesterday have never worked out well for me. I've been on board these expensive trips in Florida, a couple of times here in Hawaii, and even in BC. On each of those trips, I was skunked; I've never caught "the big one" while on a commercial charter.
On the other hand, I have caught an awful lot of fish in my life, both large and small, from the lakes and rivers of BC. I've caught numerous trout and salmon, so much so that my kids thought candied salmon was a normal part of everyone's diet, and catching smaller trout was fun but not serious fishing.
Still, it would have been nice. This will likely be the last major fishing trip of my life. I would have liked to catch something, even if it wasn't a marlin. Nobody likes to get skunked.
I am unable to empathize with your travel-fatigued, world-weary, affluent state. Many of us live at the poverty level-- or below-- collecting Social Security Disability payments here in the US. There are no charming get-togethers featuring gourmet food, suitable wines, and lively company. No sailing. No fishing trips.
ReplyDeleteI am fortunate, like you. But I am an exception.
Yes, it's a shame we have ALS. But damn, we have heat and running water and electricity. Technology. Family. Education. Nursing staff. Transportation. Good memories. Physician-assisted suicide.
Please tell us more about hardship. Something we can share, and to which we genuinely can relate. There is much from which to choose from, for those of us with ALS.
I understand your point of view, Barb. All I can say is this blog is about my journey, both the high points and low points. There are many things for which I am grateful and I write of them often. Then again, ALS is, in and of itself, a hardship. I have said it many times; I am lucky. As to affluence, I plan on dying, fairly soon, but until then I plan on living as much as I can before I die.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, I am living on my savings and my Disability Pension. There will be nothing left when I am gone, nothing for my children. I've talked to them and they agree that I should use what money I have to live as well as I can for as long as I can.
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