We had a lobster for supper last night but not before the boat got stuck in the middle of the bay and we had to be rescued by Tommy.
In the morning the black arrow of the barometer moved from rain to change for the first time during the holiday. The waters were still and we decided to motor across the bay to Carberry Island to see if we could see any seals. It took a while to get the engine started but eventually it kicked into life.
It takes about 25 minutes to motor across the bay. As we got closer we could see the grey shape of the seals on the rocks. They flopped into the water as we slowed down and their heads bobbed in the water as we passed watching as if to say – what are you doing here? If we got too close they dived, some of them flicking their tale in the air with quick splash, to reappear and few moments later still watching us.
We turned back with the intention of stopping near Owen Island to try and catch some mackerel for lunch. About halfway across the bay the engine cut out. No matter how hard I pulled and what buttons I pressed there did not seem to be anything to be done to get it started. Some of the sails had been taken off the boat to make for easier motoring so we unshipped the oars and started to row.
We were opposite Kilcrohane Castle and I knew it would take a good few hours to get back. I had seen Tommy’s boat, Freedom, head back to the pier and I guessed he would still be around. So I called up Kristen, who was still in the Cottage, and asked her to speak to Tommy and see if he could pick us up.
Ten minutes later we saw the blue shape of his boat coming out Kitchen Cove. Whilst we waited we threw a line over the side and quickly caught seven mackerel. It took Tommy another few minutes reach us, I was able to get a line to him and he hauled us back to the mooring periodically cheering us up with thumbs up sign.
He took the children back to the pier whilst we tidied up the boat and cleaned away the mackerel blood. Before he’d come out he had passed over to Kristen a monster lobster which she had put in a bucket in the garage. Later she confeesed that she had been tempted to put it back into the sea.
That evening I cooked the mackerel on the barbeque. I did nothing to them at all apart from gutting them down by the rocks. They were delicious tasting of nothing but themselves.
The lobster was almost too big for the pan and fought to avoid being plunged headfirst into the boiling water. The eating of him was tinged with guilt as we talked of his great age and the number of years that he must have survived hiding amongst the rocks at the head of the bay.
We listened to Exile on Main St.