Ah Newquay, so beautiful, scenic, picturesque, friendly. A place famous for its beaches, the place in the UK to surf and having pasty shops on every corner. Ah Newquay, responsible for one of the worst four hours I’ve ever experienced.
It started like this…
‘Right, 2pm tomorrow we’re booked to go sea fishing. We just need to turn up fifteen minutes before down at the bay’ said my sisters partner Paul. An act of generosity (as a result of a bonus from work), gratefully received. Paul, my mum’s partner Dave and my other sisters partner (to be clear, a second sister, not the first sister having two lovers) Mark, were the group heading for an afternoon at sea.
I’d never been fishing before whereas the other three had been a few times and had stories from their adventures. The banter early on was that it would be me who, being the fishing virgin, would catch the largest fish. We would BBQ whatever we caught that evening for our dinner.
As a child I always dreamed of being a pirate, finding some treasure and having a life at sea. How stupid was I!!?.
You could slip on that and kill yourself
Our boat was the Che Sara Sara, a sizeable vessel compared to the others entering and leaving the bay. The boats arrived to drop off and pickup every ten minutes.
The first thing you notice are the boats are a health and safety officers wet dream. ‘You could slip on that and kill yourself’ said Mark, that was an anchor, hanging from the place where we entered the boat. Getting on the boat was like the first action scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark (he’s grabbed the icon and all Hell breaks loose) and I was Indiana Jones, ready for adventure.
As it worked out, my day was to be more like the shower scene from The Crying Game…minus the surprise penis….as I already have one of those.
And so it began. We headed off to catch our dinner.
The first thirty minutes was spent travelling to our fishing point. Our captain was Pete, with a helping hand provided by a man who looked liked a malnourished Captain Haddock.
Pete managed to hit every wave imaginable. If this were his driving test then I imagine it would have ended like this:
‘Pete, there’s two lots of good news. First, we’ve made it back to the test centre in one piece and secondly, you hit every pedestrian and standstill vehicle since we left therefore I’m glad to report you’ll never be allowed to drive on these roads, ever, not as long as I live and breathe. I suggest you put all your efforts into a life at sea. Good day to you’.
Dolphins, starboard side
Just before we anchored, Pete slowed the boat down and shouted ‘Dolphins, starboard side’. I at this point had already began to slide into personal Hell and muttered the words ‘stupid f****** dolphins’. I didn’t care about them, my stomach was doing gymnastics. We then anchored. This is the point where I held the fishing rod for the first and only time.