We saw that the waves had picked up our Kayaks while we swam around the caves, destroying my fishing rod and tossing all our things into the brine. Rappa lost a pair of shades worth 100 dollarydoos. And a hat.
We paddled the waterlogged Yaks back to the resort, agreeing that the toll was well worth it.
‘Boat’ stands for Bust Out Another Thousand, Daz tells me.
Daz has been busting out a thousands getting his engine working. Well maybe not. He was one of the first Mechanics to set up shop in Broome years ago. He’s been putting some time into it though.
It’s nice to be fishing on his boat. Even if the engine is fucked.
I don’t fish. Not really. This day I caught a 2 meter shark and thought maybe I should fish a little more. Its pretty fun.
The shark was released and swam away to plot its revenge.
We spluttered back to the resort.
I walked up the beach, around the headlands and hoped there was enough swell for a bodysurf. There wasn’t. The wind was up and the sun was dipping fast. It was as cold as I’d been since I left Tasmania.
Small swells rocked and flared in the wind with the sun behind it and I tried to relax and enjoy the time I had.
The whole coast had transformed. Sea Hawks circled above eerily as I made my way through the rock formations along the shore. So much of the sand was gone.
I dove into the shore-break and shot some photos. The wind chilled and the sun went away. Baitfish skipped along wherever I swam and my heart got up a bit.
It wasn’t bad.