My hubby and I have just returned from a holiday on the Isle of Skye. What a rugged, wind swept, beautiful place it is. On one of the evenings after a particularly wet day spent mostly inside, the clouds parted and we decided to drive to Uig. Guy planned to fish from the pier there and I just fancied some fresh air. He was pleasantly surprised when on a whim I asked if I could join him. Fishing is his thing definitely not mine!
Down by the pier the last ferry of the day slowly departed for the Hebrides, a grey outline in the distance. The people dispersed and we were left alone, a rocky beach to look out on and a few seals languishing on its outcrop. Glasses pinned on the end of my nose it took a while for us to thread the line through the two rods and then tie the feathers on. We were hoping to catch some mackerel for supper. Then we dropped the line into the water and jigged! Within minutes mine started to wiggle and suspiciously I pulled it slowly up. Four little silver pollock were squirming and gasping on the hooks. Removing them carefully I dropped the line back in the water and within minutes the same thing happened. An hour or so later we must have caught 50+ fish between us. Excited and grinning from ear to ear it was easy, I liked fishing! The golden sunset as we drove back was rewarding and a confirmation somehow.
How many times has God asked me to fish and heard my remonstrations of I don’t like it, I don’t know what to say, I can’t do it. I wonder if next time I’ll give it a go and drop the line and see what happens. I may be a novice but even novices catch fish.
“Come follow me and I will make you fishers of men”
Heather's ramblings 