Don't Try New Things While The Fishermen Are Watching

Enough of this paddling around West Lakes in the Tub: we had a brand new sea-worthy battery and a spiffy little electric motor and Roger was champing at the bit to try it all out in wider waters. He decided to take the whole lot down to Milang where we could go for a spin on the waters of Lake Alexandrina and then pack the Tub into our storage shed for the next week or two while we changed house sits again.

Of course we forgot that it was Australia Day, and every man and his dog (and the kids, the BBW, the jet ski, the power boat and everything that gets pulled behind it, etc...) had all gone to Milang to revel in the cool breezes and benign shallows of the lake.

A crowd of fishers, and I use that term loosely because I don't think they posed any threat to the local fish population, watched with breathless interest as we clipped the Tub together and readied it for sail paddle.

They were fascinated by the pedal flippers, by the clipping of the boat together, by the battery and electric motor.  Bolstered by alcohol and quite possibly a 'herbal' rollie or two, they cheered encouragement as we pushed the Tub out to sea.  A stiff onshore breeze pushed brisk little waves against the Tub.  The lake was shallow and weedy: we had to push a long way to get into water above our knees.  "Jump in," muttered Roger, "and use the actual paddle until it's deep enough for the flippers."

We jumped on board and I paddled like crazy, and then I put in my pedals and flippered like crazy.  Water slopped over the Tub's prow.  Behind me, Roger struggled with the motor and propellor.  We went around in circles under the gleeful gaze of the fisher gallery, having fraught conversations along the lines of...

Go straight!  Pedal!

You're steering! You go straight!

Bugger!  The stupid motor won't fit!  Pedal!

I am!

We'll end up in the jetty! Go straight!

You're steering!

Confirmation that we were, indeed, at Milang.

In the interests of preserving what little face we had left we pedalled furiously around the end of the jetty and found a little beach in amongst the reeds, out of sight of the gallery who had long lost interest and gone back to their chemical enhancements. We struggled with the motor and found out that, assurances of the seller notwithstanding, it just didn't fit into the space it was designed for. So we gave up, put the motor and the battery back in the car, got the second set of flippers, and went for a paddle on Lake Alexandrina anyway.

 

Lake Alexandrina may have been shallow, but there was a lot of it.  

We decided not to go to the other side.  Instead we pedaled in a big circle out into the lake, dodging jet skis and power boats (OK, just one of each) and frightening pelicans.

Things were a lot quieter when we came back to shore. The picnickers were gone, the camping families had all retreated back to their campsites and started making dinner, and the fishermen had taken their sunburns and their rollies elsewhere. Flocks of little corellas settled noisily into the trees as we packed up.

The little corellas followed us as we set out our picnic tea down by the water side. The water in Lake Alexandrina is fresh, courtesy of the barrages at the river mouth, so there was no lining up at muddy rivers for the corellas of Milang. They waded en masse into the waters, booting out the seagulls and dodging waves like the seasoned lakeside drinkers which they were.

We took the Tub back to our storage shed and packed it away.  We're heading up into the Hills for our next house sit, so the Tub gets to languish in the shed, waiting patiently for us to find the time to visit it for another paddle and a little more arguing with the electric motor.

 

Hopefully without the fishermen next time.

 

Flowers to finish.