Typically, we were an hour early just to make sure we didn’t miss the boat. My cousins, my brother and I all excitedly waited for our first fishing trip. The day was cold and the clouds were grey in Newquay, Cornwall, but that didn’t put us off ranting about how much fun we were going to have. We passed the hour by placing bets on who could catch the first and biggest fish. The hour had gone and our time was up. We jumped onto the small, overcrowded boat with real determination to catch a winner.
We all took our seats, wrapped up warm in water proofs, hats and gloves. Fishing was explained to us, but no one was listening as we were too busy admiring the view and trying to sit still on the rocking boat. Everyone was holding onto the benches so hard our knuckles were turning white, but we had to or we would have ended up on the wet, fishy floor. Our rods were given to us.
In unison, we stepped up to the challenge, tied our bait on and away we went. It was extremely frustrating trying to not fall over and catch a fish at the same time. Holding on at all times, or sitting down was necessary. The boat continued to sway as each wave smacked into the side of our helpless boat. It then happened. My 14 year old brother exclaimed he felt ill. We took no notice of him and just told him to sit down. He looked as pale as the cod we hoped to catch and then opened his mouth as if he was going to speak. No words came out, just last night’s lasagna and that morning’s cereal.
My cousin rushed over and wiped the sick off his legs with the few tissues we had between us. That wasn’t the end. Overboard was the only option. He jumped forward with his cheeks puffed up and spat out another round over the side. He was out of the runnings as he was too ill to stand up, as was my eldest cousin who was looking after him. It only made the situation worse that we were too far from the harbor to go back and the boat continued to be pummeled, each wave hitting harder than the last.
There was then three left in the competition, me, my youngest cousin and his wife.
We decided to stay clear of the sick and tears and focus on our fishing. Nothing had been caught yet and we all blamed the roughness of the water. However, most of us were about to have an even better excuse as I fell into the same trap. I keeled over, closed my mouth and prayed my fate wouldn’t be the same. I stumbled over to the bench as I ditched my rod and sat there clenching my stomach. I closed my eyes and concentrated on one thing only. Not throwing up.
Things got worse, we were only half an hour into our two hour fishing trip and more than half of us had given up. No one cared about the £100 we had wasted, we just wanted to return in one piece. I sat there dreaming of a hot chocolate in front of the television, however, those dreams were shattered by constant swaying and the sound of my brother violently being sick. I was able to control myself and wasn’t sick at that moment. However, we were about to lose yet another competitor.
My cousin’s wife was next. Out of nowhere she spewed her guts up over her rod. It made matter worse that she was pregnant, so was feeling ill already. She joined me as we both put our hoods up and blocked out the noise.
There was now one left. My youngest cousin only had to catch one fish to win. I don’t know what he did but he was screaming and begging the fish to eat the bait.
Fortunately none did. We were told to reel in the line and prepare for the return.
He sat down miserably, just like the rest of us and we turned around back to shore.
Luckily it was over. Two of us had lost a lot of fluids, one of us had sick on his face, I just had a bad stomach ache and the last of us was completely fine apart from knowing that he wasted £15 on watching us throw up.
H Kleiman
