Bite me oh fisher-whiners :P
01 January 2014 | Return to West Cape Bay
SUNDAY DEC 15th -- Corny Point to West Cape Bay.
During the night those sodding, bastardly weather gods had at long last taken a tranquilliser, so this morning the elements were far more good-natured and composed. It looked to be a peachy sailing day. We were right.
On a moderately big (about 2 metres) but gentle swell, we sailed almost all the way from Corny point. For the first time in what seemed like weeks (oh wait.... it has been weeks.... gawd!) there was no queasiness, no death grips on the rails every time I needed to pee (just normal hanging on, it was still rocking) , no spillage of hot liquids or items flying around the cabin as though possessed by a cranky poltergeist. No tears, no miseries or threats of an uprising and defection if conditions didn't improve. 'Twas actually nice for a change.
As we approached Pondalowie Bay, it was a toss up as to whether to head in there or keep going to West Cape Bay, which is pretty much right next door as the fish swims. Since we had only seen Pondy from land, we decided to give it a go but on entering the actual bay, and being passed by two fishing boats that were also on their way in, it didn't take long for us to decide to make an about face.
There were moorings everywhere but many of them appeared to be taken up by fishing vessels of various sizes. Others had dinghies tied to them, thus keeping interloping yachts at bay. We had no idea if the moorings were private or whether they'd just been appropriated by the fisher-persons, but either way, it felt uncomfortable and awkward. Being a sail boat, we almost felt like interlopers in this cliquey waterway so we did a slow about face and headed out.
It was a good decision as West Cape Bay was once again unoccupied and we knew it was fairly well protected from the weather. Sails were taken down, the engine was started and we took a slow putter towards the cliffs, looking for a good sandy spot in which to drop anchor. Dave, on the prow, spied a likely patch of sand in the crystal clear water and readied the anchor. As he dropped it I worked the motor and all was fine until we heard yelling and obscenities drifting towards us on the breeze. On shore were two guys fishing off of the rocks and apparently we were in their patch of sand. Uh.... really??
They were screaming at us, telling us to move out into the swell in the middle of the bay, that we would ruin the fishing, that they would become tangled in the anchor, that we had no right to be there, etc, etc and on and on. It was kind of funny.
One of them began spewing so many grubby words, we could have scooped them into a bucket and used them as burly. The other threatened to damage our boat if we didn't move it (we were over 150 metres away). Now, excuse my language but wow, what an idiot pair of friggin' twats! As it was, Dave diplomatically informed them that there was enough room for both of us in the sand patch, and continued to set the anchor. The idiots were furious and did their best to justify their rants by trying to cast their lines as close as possible to us in the hope of becoming tangled in the anchor, thus justifying their rage. Unfortunately for them, (and thus confirming my initial determination of 'idiots') their casts didn't even reach half way so eventually I think they realised they may have been wrong, especially as they were still catching stuff.
We totally ignored them, sat in the cockpit and had a cuppa, read, snacked and sometime in the next couple of hours they either left or were eaten by a sea mutant that was attracted by the salacious verbal stew that had been spread out over the water. Idiots.
P.S.
Speaking of idiot fisher-persons. A friendly warning to all of those lobster pot owners who spread their pots willy-nilly all over the place in deep water where vessels are likely to sail. If any of them go missing or lose their mooring buoys, bad luck. Do you even realise that when the seas are even moderately high, your little marker buoys are almost impossible to see until we're almost right on top of them? We can't veer away quickly, and are sick of having to vigilantly wend our way through a veritable mine field of the floaty little buggers, especially in rough seas. So as I say, be warned...they are fair game when it comes to being run down.