Chapter 5

MANGROVE DREAMING
By Kerrie Bygrave

Chapter 5:

Sam stepped out onto the veranda and closed the door behind her. It was five minutes to eleven, and she was expecting Tara to show up any time. She had a pair of long tan coloured boardies on, a white singlet top and a white long sleeve cotton button up shirt. She’d packed a small bag with the items Tara had suggested she bring on their fishing trip. She went and sat on the front step of the veranda and waited. She placed the broad brim hat that she had bought herself from the Yuen Wing store on her head and unconsciously played with the hat string that held it under her chin with a bead to tighten it with.
It had been two days since she had gone out for dinner with Matt. Yesterday, after his early start, he had worked until eight o’clock that night. She had made them a quiche for dinner, but they had said little over dinner. Last night in bed they had talked briefly, but not about anything personal. This time it had been Matt who claimed to be tired and had quickly gone to sleep.
Sam had got up early with Matt this morning and made him a cooked breakfast before he went to work. After breakfast, he had smiled his appreciation, but Sam vowed to herself that she would do more to make things up to him. It was actually a public holiday today for Labour Day, but Matt claimed he had too much to do to take the day off.
It was only after Matt left for work that she realised that she had not told him about her fishing plans with Tara. She had written him a brief note and left it on the kitchen table for him in case he came home while she was out.
A couple of minutes later, Tara came walking down the street. Sam let herself out the front gate. Tara smiled at her. ‘Good morning Sam. Are you ready for some fishing?’
‘Definitely.’ replied Sam. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this since you invited me. Thanks once again for letting me come.’
‘That’s alright’ laughed Tara. You’re more than welcome. But before we go, are you sure you want to wear those white clothes. They probably won’t be clean when you get home, and I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to ever get them that white again.
‘They’ll be OK’ Sam said. ‘ I’ve had them a while anyway’.
With that, they set off. Sam was surprised to realise they were walking through the back street in China Town. Once they were on the other side, Tara led them through a bush track down to the edge of the mangroves. The mangroves looked so thick, and Sam wondered how they would get to the water through them. But suddenly there appeared a break in the thick vegetation and a wide path led straight into the heart of the mangrove trees. The upper branches of the mangroves formed a canopy over the path, and Sam marvelled at how they were now walking through the mangroves themselves. She commented on how the path was a relatively easy walk.
‘Don’t speak too soon.’ warned Tara. ‘It isn’t this easy the whole way’.
Sure enough, another thirty metres along, the path narrowed dramatically, and split into two. ‘So which path do we take?’ inquired Sam.
‘This one.’ replied Tara a matter-of-a-factly, as she took the lead on the right trail. ‘It’s much shorter, but it also has a few obstacles. Like I said the other day, I hope you don’t mind your shoes getting muddy.’
‘By the way,’ Tara added, ‘I hope you don’t mind but my niece might join us later. She’s also new in town, and I brought her down here about a week ago. She’s not really into the whole fishing part, but even so she enjoyed herself last week, so I told her she was welcome to join us today. She had to do some work at school first, she’s a teacher. But she may come down later.’
‘Of course I don’t mind’, said Sam. ‘Being new in town myself, I like meeting new people. I’m sure your niece feels the same way.’
‘I’m sure she does.’ replied Tara. ‘You’ll like Caitlyn, she’s a lovely person.’
Just around the first bend, there was a wide, muddy puddle that spanned the width of the path and disappeared under the mangled roots of the mangroves on both sides. It was about two metres long. ‘Be careful, here’ Tara cautioned Sam who was amazed at how Tara didn’t miss a beat and just stepped into the puddle and kept walking. She went to do the same, but the moment her foot found the bottom of the puddle, her foot started to slip away from under her. She withdrew her foot quickly before placing it back in the puddle, this time much more gingerly.
Tara paused and looked back. ‘If it helps, you can reach up and hold onto the branches above your head.’ she said. ‘They won’t support your weight if you fall, but they will give you more of a sense of balance, when things get slippery.’
Sam took Tara’s advice, and grabbed a low hanging branch just above her head as she carefully continued to step through the puddle. She was able to get through the puddle without slipping over and join Tara on the other side.
Around the next bend, the path dropped away to a small creek. The edge of the creek looked steep and slippery, and Sam wondered how they would get across.
‘Up here.’ Tara directed Sam a few metres to the right of the original path and sure enough, there was a large fallen log that went down to the edge of the trickle of grey, muddy water. Sam copied Tara and held onto the log as she traversed the steep bank. It was easy to step across the water, and on the other side, there were some well worn step ledges going up the other side, where people had obviously walked up many a times. Even so, they were extremely slippery and Sam found herself reaching out and putting her hands on the wet mud-covered bank in front of her to get up to the other side. She noted wryly that Tara had had to do no such thing.
‘You make it look so easy.’ commented Sam.
‘I’ve been coming here for many years.’ replied Tara. ‘Believe me, the first dozen times or so that I came, I was that dirty from falling over. I swear I must have thrown out at least five sets of clothes that were ruined down here. You’re doing quite well considering this is your first time.’
‘Thanks.’ said Sam as she got to the top of the embankment. She saw her hands had a thick layer of mud on them now. She looked at them and laughed. ‘I wonder if this mud has the same therapeutic qualities that the expensive day spas charge a fortune for. Maybe I should smear some of this stuff on my face too.’ But instead she wiped her hands on the side of her shorts. ‘I see what you mean about not going home clean.’
‘Come on.’ Tara said. ‘Not long to go now.’ They continued to walk along the path that meandered this way and that. ‘Look over there.’ Tara directed Sam’s gaze to the left. Through the mangled branches, and the tall arching roots, Sam could see that the main creek and the path they were following was now parallel with the edge of the water. Before long, the path deviated towards the water’s edge. At the edge of the creek, was a wet sandy bank, but instead of being white like Broome’s other well known beaches, it was the same bluey-grey that permeated the rest of the marshy area surrounding Dampier creek.
‘One last obstacle’ commented Tara. There was a large fallen log at that blocked the way down to the creek, but it was relatively easy for the two women to scramble over it and reach the bank.
Sam went to make her way down to the water, but as she took a few steps, she lost her balance and slipped over, falling squarely on her bottom.’
Tara rushed over to her, but Sam was alright. In fact she burst out in a fit of laughter. ‘Just my luck.’ she mused. ‘I make it all the way here and I managed not to fall over, but when we’re at our destination, the first thing I do is fall on my derrière.’
Suddenly Sam went quite and stared off in the distance. ‘You know,’ she said ‘a few years ago, I would have hated someone taking me on a track like the one we just walked on. I used to be such a prissy when it came to getting dirty. I would have seen the entrance to the track and turned back there and then. I would have been too worried about things like breaking a nail, or messing up my hair. It was the way I was raised. Women just don’t get dirty. That’s what I was taught. But after I met Matt, he made me see that no matter where I was or what I did, being true to myself was so much more important than the insignificant details. He was the first one to take me on a real camping trip. It was just after we started seeing each other. He took me to a little place called Waratah Bay in Victoria. I thought I was going to hate it, but I had a ball.’
Suddenly, Sam picked herself up, and said sunnily ‘Just like I’m having a ball now.’
Tara gave her an admiring look. ‘You’ve obviously grown a lot as a person since you met your husband.’ said Tara.
‘I have.’ replied Sam reflectively. ‘And I have Matt to thank for it. I’m lucky, he is a remarkable man, and he is so good to me. But enough of that for now. I don’t think these fish are going to catch themselves.’
‘No, certainly not’ joined in Tara who walked back up to the edge of the mangroves and pulled out two old milk crates from the branches just above her head. ‘I don’t know who first brought these down here, but they definitely come in handy.’ she said.
With that, Tara sat down on one of the crates next to the side of the creek, and opened up her back pack. She pulled out two hand lines and a little tackle box. Sam sat on the crate next to her.
Sam paused to look around her. ‘Gee, this place really is beautiful.’ she whispered. The creek was about ten metres wide, and along both sides, it was framed by tall, towering mangroves. At various points, there were patches of exposed banks. The sky was a brilliant blue and finished the scenery off, as if an artist had planned the blue of the sky to complement the bluish, green foliage of the mangrove trees and the green tinged water.
Next Tara pulled out a small snap-lock bag with some frozen squid in it.
‘Ooh, that looks appetising.’ giggled Sam. ‘Not.’
‘Luckily it’s for the fish, not us.’ commented Tara, amused by Sam’s reaction to the slimy bait. ‘Have you ever been fishing?’
‘No, never.’ replied Sam. Like I said before, I was brought up to believe that proper ladies don’t get dirty. So when I went camping with Matt, I still wasn’t keen on the fishing aspect. I know this sounds so cliché, but I used to sun-bake on the beach and read magazines while Matt fished in the surf. He never even attempted to talk me into trying to fish. As wonderful as Matt is, there are still a couple of things he see’s as belonging to men alone, and fishing is one of them.’
‘What does he think of you coming fishing with me then?’ said Tara, as she deftly cut two bits of squid off on the lid of her tackle box, and baited up the hooks of the two handlines
‘I actually forgot to tell him that we had planned this.’ replied Sam. ‘I left him a note on the kitchen table in case he came home while we were still out, which is unlikely’. She frowned briefly, then smiled again. ‘He’s pretty busy at work now days.’
Tara had seen Sam’s frown, but didn’t say anything. If Sam wanted to say something, she would. Otherwise, Tara wasn’t the type to pry.
Tara handed one of the hand lines to Sam and said ‘Well, best I be giving you a few tips on throwing your line out then.’ before walking a few feet upstream. ‘Just stay there and I’ll show you what to do.’ She held the plastic spool in her left hand out to the side. With the other hand, she let out about a metre of line. She held it out and started spinning it round like a lasso vertically to her right side. After a few spins, she released the line and it seemed to sail gracefully through the air and land about halfway into the creek. ‘Now, you have a go.’ she motioned to Sam.
Sam repeated what she thought she’d seen Tara do. She got to the part where she was spinning the line around, but when she let go, the sinker fell at her feet. ‘What did I do wrong?’ she lamented.
‘See the way you’re holding the spool in your left hand?’ Tara replied. ‘You need to turn it over so the sloped side faces away from you. This allows the fishing line to come off freely when you let it go.’ Sam tried again, but this time the hook and sinker flew high into the air above her and after she ran to the side a bit, they landed just behind where she had been standing. Before she could say anything, Tara interrupted her and said ‘Try again. You nearly had it. Just be sure to release your line as your hand flicks towards the water’. Sam gathered up her line and tried again. This time it landed in the water, but not as far at as Tara’s line had gone.
Sam was about to pull her line in and try again, when Tara stopped her. ‘No, no. Leave your line out there.’ she said.
‘But it’s not far out enough, is it?’ Sam said doubtfully.
‘Why not?’ said Tara. ‘Do you think fish only swim down the middle of the creek in a straight line?
‘No, I guess not.’ and Sam took a seat next to Tara again on one of the milk crates.
‘Now, for the important business.’ declared Tara, as she stood up. ‘If you get a bite, whatever you do, don’t ever wrap the fishing line around your hand or your fingers. A strong fish can pull so hard, that the line could cut into you quite deeply. Instead, use one hand to pull the line towards you.’ She demonstrated on her own line as she told Sam what to do. ‘Then use your other hand to grab the line further out in front of you and pull it towards you, repeat this, and you’ll soon have the fish pulled in.’ After Tara pulled her line in, she wound it back onto the spool and expertly threw it out again.
They then lapsed into a comfortable silence. Sam took more time to admire her surroundings. She felt more at peace on this muddy bank than she had in a long time. She could see the bay out of the mouth of the creek.
A few minutes later, she felt a sharp jab on her line. She jumped up suddenly and nearly slipped over again, but managed to save herself. ‘I think I just had a bite.’ she said.
‘It’s OK.’ interjected Tara. ‘Don’t pull it in straight away. Let the fish have a few nibbles, and then it should take the bait and hookproperly. Then you’ll be able to pull it in.’
Sure enough, after another few sharp jabs, the fish took the line and Sam felt her line tense and pull away. ‘Put your spool down and start pulling like I showed you before.’ advised Tara.
Sam followed Tara’s advise, and started pulling the fish towards her. ‘This is harder than it looks.’ she said, but she had a smile on her face. It took her a minute, but soon there was a shiny silver fish flip flopping all over the place on the shore line.
Tara came over to inspect it. ‘Congratulations, you just caught a fish all by yourself. A beauty too. It’s a little mangrove jack’. She used both her hands to pick the fish up and carried it over to her tackle box.
Sam was brimming with a girlish excitement, having caught her first fish. ‘I can see why people become addicted to fishing.’ she said breathlessly. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘No, it’s alright, you’ve done the hard work.’ replied Tara. ‘This fish has swallowed the hook. I’m going to have to cut the line. She pulled a pocket knife out of her back pack and sliced it through the line near the fish’s mouth. ‘This fish is slightly undersize, so we can’t keep it, but trust me, you’ll catch a bigger one, if not today, another day.’
‘That’s fine. I like the idea of letting the fish go. It seems more humane to me. I might keep the odd fish for a meal for Matt and I to eat.’
‘I like to hear that’. mused Tara as she put the fish back in the water and watched it swim off, before walking back up to the milk crates. ‘That’s what’s called fishing for the future. Actually, you can do something. I need to rig up your line with a new hook, so you can try again. Can you grab me a large hook from my tackle box?’
‘With pleasure.’ replied Sam, and she reached down to her feet to open the box at her feet. She went to pick out one of the larger hooks, but paused. ‘What’s this?’ she picked up a small plastic bag with a small, narrow, plastic fish with a three way hook coming out its mouth. What had caught Sam’s eye was its brilliant teal colouring.
‘What’s that, dear?’ Tara turned around to look at Sam, but she quickly grabbed the plastic bag off her. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snatch.’ she said in a in an unusual curt tone. ‘That just has sentimental value.’ and she placed it carefully back in the tackle box.
Sam put a hand on Tara’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you’.
‘You didn’t. I guess I’m normally the only one who goes into that tackle box. That lure belonged to my husband, and it comes with a lot of bitter sweet memories. That’s all. He passed away ten years ago.’ She stared off into the distant bay.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Thankyou. You don’t have to apologise. It hit me really hard at first, but I’m fine now. I just get a little sentimental sometimes
After a while, Sam said quietly ‘How long have you been in Broome?’
. ‘Since the early seventies. Broome was a very different place back then. That was before all the tourist found out about this place.’ Then she chuckled softly, ‘And before there was air conditioning.’
‘Wow, sounds fascinating.’ replied Sam. ‘You must have some memories of this town, and it must have been quite an adventure to move here.’
‘Yeah, it sure was,’ said Tara with a resigned sigh. ‘Let’s get your line back in the water, and I’ll tell you about my life when I first came to Broome. Hopefully I won’t bore you to tears.’
‘I’m sure you won’t.’ and Sam watched Tara rig up line once more. She listened to Tara tell her about arriving in Broome over thirty years ago, and was fascinated.