WITH the cooler weather approaching and winter well and truly on its way my family is breathing a collective sigh of relief.
You see, the past six months or so have been perfect for boating, and while that may please many of you, I’d hazard a guess you’ve never been boating with my dad.
Sub-zero temperatures and biting wind chill factors cannot come quick enough for my family members who, frankly, are happier on dry land when my dad’s at the helm, which, as it turns out is not that much.
More often in the water than in command of his vessel, no marine life is safe when he turns the key of his Suntracker and sets sail for his ‘secret’ crabbing patch.
Time and again we have told him the reason his patch is so secret is not because of his mad skills, its because not even the crabs know its there.
Really, it’s like the crabs know my dad is on his way and up stumps before he has time to remember which row of crab net markers is his.
But it’s not just catching a feed the old man could use some help with.
Seriously, if the bungs are in, there is no petrol.
If we have a full tank, he’s left the keys at home.
Never mind Gilligan’s Island, my dad should have an archipelago named after him.
For every sand bar along our shores, we’ve hit it.
And that’s when he’s in control.
Like I said, this is a man who spends more time adrift than afloat.
We’ve lost track of how many times Dad has fallen overboard.
He’s lucky he can swim.
We’re lucky Mum has her skipper’s ticket.
And every living creature in the Peel Inlet is lucky winter is on its way.
Fish are resting easier these days.
Dad may never catch them, but they sure do get a fright every time he makes a splash.