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It's dawn on the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula. The sun seems to begin to ooze out of the blue waters beyond the horizon. The dark curtain of night is lifting and the black had begun to change hue to the deepest blue you've ever seen.
A small wave breaks from right to left, shimmering sunlight dancing along the break accompanied by the roar as it fades across the glistening wet white sands. You've readied your surf caster and waded out into the warm waters up to your waist, steadied yourself and then a swift fluid motion (the product of years of skill and practice) you cast. The sinker yields a clue to the flight as the line clears off your trusty Alvey reel and you watch as it clears the white line of the breakers. With the drag off you ease your way back to the shoreline, pausing only to take a breath of the fresh sea air off the Pacific Ocean.
As you place the rod into your rod-holder securely planted in the sand, you cast your eyes down the deserted beach with only the odd sea-bird to disturb the serenity of the moment. The waves continue as they have always done - gently caressing the shore. Kicking off your shoes, you run your toes thru the hot white sand.
The sun rises further and as the eastern sky glows with amber, crimson and then to deep blue you wonder how folk who don't fish will ever experience the sea, the sky and the shore that you are feeling at that instant except as a moment's reflection.
That's why I fish.
Boingo - As for getting drunk with a stick any bloke can can do that a strip bar in town.
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