deep sea fishing luck
The second day at sea.
For thirty hours our ship's diesel engines have been humming along due to the lack of wind.
A monotonous, almost hypnotic noise, which carries my thoughts with it, into long past events and those that imagine what will happen to us on this journey.
To the monotony of the engine comes the steady breathing of the sea and the sun, which burns almost unbearably hot from the cloudless sky.
I am suddenly snapped out of my daydreams as a creaking hum cuts through the monotony.
Bertel, who has been dozing the whole time, jumps up as if bitten by a tarantula and runs to the stern. A fish has bitten on our new sea fishing rod for the first time.
Oh god, a fish! I love sushi, but only from the Japanese.
But now: blood, fish murder, intestines and the cattle will also look at me reproachfully!
Bertel is in hunting fever and fights with the fish. It's quite a nice chunk - oh god, more blood!
Why can't sushi grow on trees?
Suddenly, a jerk, Bertel almost falls backwards, the fish has torn itself free, along with the new bait!
My skipper is pissed off and I hypocritically comfort him.
In reality, I'm glad that there was no bloodbath and that the poor big fish, although now adorned with a pretty lip piercing, can continue to make his way through the sea.