Heeeyho Readers! After months of cycling, finally the coast was reached, let's visit Koper.
I first got into fishing when I went with my Dad. I suppose I was about ten years old, in the late nineties. I had gotten a basic fishing kit my uncle gifted me, consisting of a cheap telescoping fishing rod and a spinning wheel. Soon that kit would prove useless for its mediocre quality, but anyway. Dad used to tell stories of his fishing days back in the eighties, when big catches were abundant in our local shore. If I recall him saying, he got into fishing with older friends, thus, I assume fishing is not a family tradition.
Equipment in his days was hard and expensive to obtain, since Brazil was in the early stages of opening the economy after more than three decades of Military Intervention. Mostly, the equipment available was made in Brazil—copies of famous brands like Penn Reels. Still, reels were of good quality, from when things were made to last. Dad’s first reel was the Brazilian-made Dehn 160, a long-cast multiplier, often called ‘the tractor’. Then he got the world-famous Penn Jig Master 500—that someone stole years later. Meantime, fishing rods were mostly made of bamboo (for its strength properties) or extremely thick and heavy fiberglass.
I still carry Dad’s old Dehn reel; he prefers easier-to-use stuff nowadays. I find it fascinating to operate vintage multipliers. This kind of equipment requires training and a certain degree of knowledge to set the drag properly to avoid backslash—believe me, it is no fun when those oldies backslash.
After noting my interest in the sport, Dad bought me a better spinning wheel and a more modern fishing rod that I mastered in my grandparents' pond and around the beach. Interest in fishing grew. And so did knowledge. It must have been 1999, if I recall any better, when I got my first bait caster reel. With that rig I began to participate in fishing tournaments in our local shore, in southern Brazil, two times a year: winter and summer tournaments. I participated fervently for about three years or so, when, for some reason, I dropped fishing for a long, long time.
Old Hobbies Never Die
Last month I posted a blog about my Dad and I going back to fishing. Since then, fishing has hooked me again (no pun intended). I have been taking great care of my old equipment and even bought the latest in rod technology: a carbon fiber surf-casting rod. Whenever time allows, I drop by the shore to train my long-distance casting, which is a well-desired technique to find bigger catches.
Since 2018, our state has passed a law forbidding industrial boats from fishing near the coast. The result came as a greater diversity of fish and sizes. I’d never seen such a tremendous diversity near the shore, nor Corvina (Micropogonias furnieri) heavier than 2 kilos.
The Greater the Storm; The Greater the Fish
A summer cyclone stormed our coast two weeks ago. With winds howling south and southeast at 120 kilometers per hour, inevitably, the tides advanced inland and over the breakwaters at the port. Such a tremendous power moved stones bigger than a fridge, throwing them meters away from their original position. Despite the damages, I knew the fish would be desperate for any food raised from the basin. I called a good friend, who is into fishing as much as myself, and said, “If you want to come over to fish, this is it.” He lost no time and came the next weekend.
What an astonishing Saturday! We started with smaller catches, Corvina and Bagre, until my friend shouted for help—he’d hooked something big. I watched him fight; the line zipping back into the sea. And then, a massive Corvina came afloat. The first big catch that day was a Corvina of about 5 kilos. Then it was my time, with a Corvina of about 4 and a half kilos.
We caught three Corvina ranging from 3,5–5 kilos. Fish this size are allowed to catch over here, but we opted to donate the fish to local fishermen. We topped that day with a great dose of cold beer.
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~Love ya all,
Disclaimer: The author of this post is a convict broke backpacker, who has travelled more than 10.000 km hitchhiking and more than 5.000 km cycling. Following him may cause severe problems of wanderlust and inquietud. You've been warned.
