As I watched the 40 or so people float down The Murray River on various devices such as a big floating unicorn, a green crocodile, someone clinging to a plastic esky complete with beer, the odd noodle and various forms of blow up lounge suites and life jackets, I thought how cool and how Aussie is that, (although I have done this in Canada where the water is somewhat colder and clearer than the muddy Murray). A few people with utes and 4 wheel drives load you up, drive and drop you and your float far up the river, you glide for about half an hour where it’s still as hot as when you started but it was fun.
Another activity that lures you to The Mighty Murray is fishing. Now this is a sport I was raised doing. It’s an elegant sport, it’s a challenging sport, it’s an excuse to get away from your wife and call that a sport. It’s early morning rises and throwing in a line late afternoon. The Husband is not attune to the civilities of the sport so does he do this ….no. He decides to venture out in 42 degree heat, middle of the afternoon to find the perfect fishing spot. The man is hard work I tell you. I have removed the worms from beside the butter in the fridge and without any further thought because my brain is melting in the heat we head off in search of the elusive Murray Cod.
Up then down the river we go until suddenly the perfect green patch appears, someone has actually planted a small grassed area beside the river, swimming here I come, and there’s a rope swing, should be fun. We pull up…shit I’ve forgotten the sun cream, the hats, the aero guard and the water….I check to actually see if I have my swimmer bottoms on because I seem to be losing the plot. I did on the other hand remember the wine and the beer. We commence the set up and I look over and hidden under a tree is a plastic container full of sun cream and aero guard, well at least Im not going home chargrilled.
I pull out my worms and they are looking a little peaked, I decide to give them some water, the edge of the water is green with slime and floating scum, god seriously, there is no way I’m getting in, did I say it was 42 degrees and hot enough to grill a chop on the nearby bike path. I look at the rope swing a little closer, unless I wish the be impaled like chicken on a stick there is no way I’m going to try and launch myself over the tree stump sticking up out of the water, my arse size would slow me up and see to that. So much much for water sports this afternoon.
The Husband grabs his rod, he opens the worm container “did you put water in the worms” “yes, they were looking poorly” I stated, “well worms don’t swim so you’ve drowned them”. This is then followed by a lesson on worms, let me tell you, it’s hot, there’s flies, there’s dirt and he is walking a very thin line. I resolve to google worm care when he is not looking because I’m sure they can swim. I remind him I’m doing him a favour by supporting him in his sporting endeavour and he should keep his lectures on earthworms to a minimum.
He casts his line, the ultimate fisherman, in the tree it goes only to be rescued by walking out onto the long tree stump over water…oh please fall in…”why are you taking pictures” he demands as I watch him balance… please please fall off. He returns from the branch dangling over the water. I thread my poor drowned sickly looking worm onto the hook, he’s non resistive so I think he’s a bit dead. I cast….into the tree it goes, yep if fish could fly I’d be an expert, The Husband puffs up his chest and commences the gloating.
It’s so hot, I’m being hounded by flies and not a bite in sight, Im dehydrating by the second and The Husband yells “got one” ….finally a real Murray Cod, some can live to 100 years old, he reels in his line and much to our dismay it’s a carp, destroyer of rivers and waterways. This does not deter The Husband in fact he’s spurred on even more. I on the other hand have caught nothing more than half a tree, had several ant bites and was wishing I had hired someone to hold one of those big old fashioned fans to stand over me as if I was living in the Deep South. Fish number two is pulled from the river, another carp. At this rate The Husband can at least say he’s saving the environment as he cuts its head of leaving fish guts and the smell of oozing flesh from behind me. Just something you want wafting in the air in over forty degrees.
By this time we had been sitting for 2 hrs, I’m hot, I have worm guts and slimy water on my hands, no hat, no water and a slight case of ..I want to whack him over the head with one of his dead fish, but I’m being supportive. Don’t get me wrong I love fishing, always have thanks to my Dad, but Dad would not fish in temperatures that would melt your breasts off, simple as that. By this time I’m covered in a sarong, have his singlet wrapped around my head, it’s not a good look trust me.
Oh for the love of god he’s casting his line again, “I will just throw this one more time,” now this would be fine if I didn’t know him so well, it goes with the words I will just finish this beer and we’ll go, the man is a sipper I tell you, this could take forever. I start packing up around him. He catches another one, him 3, me none. I will not live this down.
It takes another 20 mins to pack up three things, for him to chat on the phone as if it’s a mild summers morning and not an egg frying on the pavement cooking event. I have not whinged once. We get in the car and head back to the air conditioned glampervan and he says “that was fun wasn’t it”…..little does he know…. ” yes honey that was great.”
Addit….. Google says I didn’t kill the worms
Can worms drown? Worms can survive underwater for several weeks as their skin can absorb oxygen from the water. But they can‘t swim, so they need to be able to get out of the water eventually, otherwise they’ll die…… see you’ve learnt something.
Caravanning in Heels 
Should of taken the floating down the river option with an esky. Would of fixed the overheating 🥵problem & Tony could of fished from his floaty 🙈 🥂LOL
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