Fishing Season by Philip Weigall

Author:Philip Weigall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Nature/General
ISBN: Fishing Season
Publisher: Exisle Publishing
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

MEAL TIME

A trip like the Mitta one just described reinforces the somewhat confused relationship I have with food when fishing. Under the direction of Max and Dale, the Mitta catering was taken pretty seriously, with the party as a whole regarding the meals as more than just something to keep you alive between casts. The mornings began with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the river-flat mist (instant coffee was banned). Breakfast was lashings of bacon and poached eggs, the latter being a personal favourite which I always muck up on my own.

Lunches were foccacias or pita breads, individually wrapped and crammed with a bewildering but delicious range of fillings. They were so good that on at least one occasion I remained seated on a river rock finishing mine while a decent trout rose 5 metres away. As for the evening meals, these hit new heights for camp food, especially given the difficult conditions under which they were prepared. Max and Dale’s team effort of T-bones with field mushrooms and pan-fried chips, prepared on a hotchpotch of tiny camp stoves by inadequate light, was close to miraculous.

There have been other trips that I can effortlessly recall for the food, notwithstanding competition from outstanding fishing. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a succession of meals as much as I did at Cape York aboard Carpentaria Seafaris’ Tropic Paradise. I adore seafood, and of course much of what we ate on board was not only unquestionably fresh but exotic too. I mentioned the longtail tuna sashimi in an earlier chapter, but the Spanish mackerel fish and chips and chilli mud crab were equally unforgettable. At my friend Felix’s Owen River Lodge in New Zealand, I’ve managed to blend in with the paying guests and enjoy Jude’s seafood bouillabaisse, not to mention her braised venison and other local treats. Sometimes though, it is the simplest fare that brings the most wistful post-trip smile, like Ross’s smoked trout, eaten on crackers after a blissful day on Arthurs Lake, Tasmania.

Yes, there’s no denying how much I enjoy good food and I can’t go long without sustenance of some description. However, in some sort of cosmic mistake, I’m not much of a meal planner or cook. Both failings are highlighted over the summer months, when the long days can cause nine or ten hours to pass between lunch and an after-dark dinner. Part of the problem is my goldfish-like memory when it comes to hunger. When I’m foodless and half-starving in the summer twilight, I vow and declare I will never put myself in the same predicament again. I silently promise I’ll load my vest with goodies and the esky with the finest foods as soon as I get back to base. But no sooner have I eaten than my brush with starvation fades to a half-forgotten discomfort ... until the next time.

To compound this predicament, I’ve somehow managed to choose several fishing companions who can skip lunch without a second thought. When they finally get around to cooking, mates like Lindsay, Peter and Mick can prepare superb meals.

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