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Going Fishing?


Newt

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If we are going, lets go.

an-launch-the-boat.jpg

 

Hey - wait for me!!

an-wait-for-me.jpg

" My choices in life were either to be a piano player in a whore house or a politician. And to tell the truth, there's hardly any difference!" - Harry Truman, 33rd US President

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LOL - not my boat. A man leaves it there through most of the Spring & Summer. The black bit on the stern is an oarlock for the single oar he uses for propulsion in the creek and he never goes downstream toward the river (to the left and maybe 200 yards).

" My choices in life were either to be a piano player in a whore house or a politician. And to tell the truth, there's hardly any difference!" - Harry Truman, 33rd US President

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LOL - not my boat. A man leaves it there through most of the Spring & Summer. The black bit on the stern is an oarlock for the single oar he uses for propulsion in the creek and he never goes downstream toward the river (to the left and maybe 200 yards).

 

 

and its not been nicked or vandalised. im lost for words.

 

 

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Andy,

 

Fishing banks are still rather "haloed grounds". Maybe a testiment to our 2nd ammendment.

 

Phone

 

Edit:

Andy, also Newt might "describe" the area for you. It's not likely more than a 100 or so of the same people "regularly" use this access. A thief wouldn't get 5 miles before a local "noticed" that particular boat. Just as I had an enormously difficult time with 75 - 80 million people jammed on an island the size of England - it may be difficult for you to imagine the bounty of wide open spaces we are still blessed with. The risk of "posse justice" would simply be to great. Still, don't get me wrong, what you suggest does happen from time to time - just not often.

Edited by Phone
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I remember when I stayed with Jan and Newt that he would leave all his tackle/motor and loads of stuff, outside his house in the open boat. OK not a built up area, but still surprised me that no one stole it all.

 

 

 

Den

"When through the woods and forest glades I wanderAnd hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur,And hear the brook, and feel the breeze;and see the waves crash on the shore,Then sings my soul..................

for all you Spodders. https://youtu.be/XYxsY-FbSic

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