Mixed success on our first fishing foray. Your reporter caught four-fifths of fuck-all, but the other three hauled in the garfish, bait fish, herring and a magnificent squid. Those squid are full of ink. And they taste superb on pizza.
The ferry was late: we blame the Rottnest Island Authority. At least the ferry wasn't weighed down by Bealo's rods: he forgot them. Mind you we forgot the pizza trays.
Our plush Geordie Bay unit is absolute beachfront: the young worker who checked on our equipment was very efficient. She spotted we were light-on for knives and fixed us up.
It doesn't get any better than this. Some are whinging about how cold it is, but we are just thankful for the freshest air in the world.
A special thank-you to Rottnest police, who had a rod or two they could share - it meant Bealo didn't have to use the cheap and nasty handline.
Now we will make a dent in a carton of Coopers and plan our angling assault tomorrow.
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