Fish hate me. It’s either that or just the fact that I’m really, really bad at fishing. How else would you explain the fact that I was unable to catch a single fish in a place where the sea was so full of fish you could actually see them beneath the clear waters?
The recent Eid holiday saw better weather in the UAE than we’ve had in months, and that meant only one thing: explore the outdoors and leave the malls for another time! As we drove along the Sharjah corniche, we saw a multitude of people fishing. Rods were stuck into the sand, kept still for a bite as families enjoyed picnics and barbeques.
It seemed idyllic – catch your own dinner, grill it over the coals, and live it up! But we did not own any angling equipment and neither did we have any information on how to go about organizing our little fishing picnic.
After some Googling and Youtubing, we became the proud owners of a brand new carbon fishing rod, complete with extra fishing lines, (so the whole family could fish together) plus hooks and sinkers – the whole lot to get us started! The guy who sold it to us was a fishing enthusiast whose latest fantasy was catching sharks. He talked us through the basics (I think he saw our enthusiasm coupled with complete lack of angling know-how) and had pity on us.
The spot we chose was perfect for fishing. In the pristine, unspoilt waters of Dibba port, we could clearly see that the area was teeming with marine life. There were schools of fish visible to the naked eye, swimming over plants and rocks on the sea-bed. Around us local fishermen were catching lots of fish (their dinner I presume) without even breaking a sweat. If this wasn’t a great place to get started and boost our confidence, I don’t know what was.
The rod was cast, the hopes were up. Every little jerk of the line conjured up visions of a large fish that I would surely catch. The extra lines were also thrown into the water – with a little help from YouTube, we knew exactly how to set up the hook, line and sinker. Excitedly, we waited for a bite. And waited… and waited.
Around us people were catching fish after fish, indeed one fisherman actually had a plastic bag that was full of his catch for the day! And we were casting our lines again and again, hoping to get lucky. Smiles waned a little; the sun suddenly began feeling hot. Mental images of the big fish evaporated, I would now settle with a small fish (any of the little ones I could see in the water, would do – you can’t call me choosy) but every time there was tension in the rods it was invariably because some smart fish ate my bait and didn’t get caught in the hook, or because the sinker got stuck between the rock crevices.
After a long time, we decided we had had enough. The others around us also had enough, mostly because they had caught sufficient fish and sundown was approaching. As we were about to pack away, the unthinkable happened. My husband’s fishing line twitched. In spite of myself, I started getting excited. The kids began cheering — did we finally catch something? Or was it one those moments when the sinker gets stuck somewhere and your heart begins beating faster and you pull back your line – only to find your hook and sinker gone?
Slowly, he pulled in the line. We held our collective breaths as a tiny fish, no larger than my finger had somehow entangled its fin in my husband’s hook. Photos of the catch were taken, celebrations followed as the little blue fish wriggled helplessly (and slimily) from the hook. It certainly did not look edible, and the local fishermen confirmed that. As we let it go back into the sea, I realised angling could be addictive, and it teaches you so much about life.
Sometimes all the planning in the world can’t beat plain good luck, and waiting patiently usually yields results. And the idea that spending time outdoors helps you bond as a family? I’ve fallen for it — hook, line and sinker!
Mehmudah Rehman is a Dubai-based freelancer.