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The magnetism of fishing

After chewing the fat with a crowd of cycling buddies over coffee and cakes at Elton Hall Garden Centre, I headed home via the ancient village of Fotheringhay, with its legendary connections with Richard III and the execution of Mary Queen of Scots.

As I crossed the ancient packhorse bridge, I passed this group casting lines with metal discs into the water. And yes, I had to ask what they were up to…..and discovered they were ‘pescatorial detectorists’ doing what is commonly called ‘magnet fishing’. And no, that doesn’t mean fishing for magnets, but using strong magnets to fish for metal objects, preferably of a historic and valuable kind.

The only catch of the morning had been a rusty old horseshoe….but they continued casting their magnets with enthusiasm.

Caught from behind!

Chance encounters of an unnerving kind……they happen on journeys like this. Several hours into my route today (Moruya to Bermagui), I was again overtaken by a car, which pulled over ahead of me, and out stepped Cecile and Dean


….and the first thing Cecile said to me was: “You’re Frank. I’ve been following your blog. How’s the trip going?”. I simply stood there aghast….until, of course, I found my voice again. We chatted about several topics, as the traffic streamed by, and then bid each other farewell. What especially intrigued me about Dean is that he lives in a tent…..but considerably bigger than mine, he said.


At last, I was able to divert from the Highway and take a scenic (and quieter) route along the coast. The wind was blowing from the SE, right into my face, but forest and roadside vegetation did much to protect me.


The little town of Tilba was an absolute gem.


A conservation order was placed on the whole town being, as it was, one of the very early gold-digging communities 175 years ago.


The predominantly wooden buildings are all over 100 years old, and beautifully preserved.
When I diverted again from the Highway, to make my way to Bermagui on the coast, I had to cross this narrow bridge


but before I did, I noticed a fisherman struggling with his line, trying to haul in, and land, what looked like a big catch. Then I noticed his right arm was a prosthesis so, effectively, he was trying to land his catch with one arm. So I went to his assistance and we hauled in this octopus


which turned out not to be on his list of things to catch


….but he had to battle with it to save his line. They are very determined creatures and, of course, it has eight tentacles to parry with you.
After supper this evening, I trotted down to the beach to catch the setting sun.


What is it about the setting sun that stirs the soul of man?
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