The coastland times. [volume] (Mnateo [i.e. Manteo], N.C.) 1947-1959, 1954-06-18
THE HIGHER
THE FEWER I
There's Always Plenty of Room
At The Top
By
NANCY j. MIDGETT


head and as I'm sitting at the
office desk trying to make my
brain function, the picture paint
ed by the song isn't exactly con-
ducive to bright, speedy output.
1t must be the hazy, lazy day
that has got into me for haven't
even been reading the fishing
news.
To a true fisherman, as far
as ! can gather, the sport is the
thing with the surroundings and
companionship coming second,
or perhaps l arm wrong and it is
the whole thing rolled into one,
from the time the motor starts
singing at departure to the final
gentle bump against the dock at
landfall Until I went grabbing
with my husband l had no idea
how beautiful the dawn was,
especially out on the sounds-the
mother of-pearl colors in the
water, coming after the changing
greys of the pre-dawn hour,
then the definite glow in the
east as the sun begins to climb
toward the horizon and the gold
as it comes to sight. Most of my
previous dawns other than those
slept through had been spent in
travelling or in case of illness,
either others or my own, in fact,
used to think that five am.
was an almost indecent hour let
alone two-thirty and three am.
The dawns I saw travelling
were usually during the war
when l went up to my home
from Torquay for a long week
end. We would leave about 4:30
pm Friday and reach home
about midnight if We were lucky
and there was no hold up from
alerts or raids on the way. Some
times we travelled over night
and reached home about am,
far too tired and dirty to enjoy
the dawn. After a bath and
something to eat l would take
an hour in bed and then my sis
ter and l would get going about
whatever we had arranged to do
for the short time at our dis
posal. Nearly always we would
lreturn on the 1890 am. be-
llieve it was, Monday morning
(which arrived back in Torquay
around 7 am. giving us one pre-
cious hour in bed before break
fast and work. Some of the
dawns on those return trips were
anything but beautiful. Once we
had nearly reached the coast
loop of the railway when the
train slowed to a crawl so we
guessed there was trouble in the
shape of enemy action further
down the line. Sure enough Ex-
mouth was being bombed,
mostly incendaries in the town,
and Teignmouth through which
We travelled had received some
of the overflow. That wasn't a
pretty sight. There was no di-
version in the way of reading
for the trains were BACKED out
some had a very dim blue light
in some of the carriages but on
the alert those went out too.
Way back in my youth my
fishing days were ones of quiet
and restfulness. l didn't do the
) fishing. My father used to do
some rod and reel fishing from
the banks of the river Thames,
usually just below Canbury Gar
dens on the river bank tho
liked his spot down by the Half
; Mile Tree better. We would take
along our lunch or something to
eat, call it what you will, and ]
would have a book to look at
when just fishing got too dull
for a mere female youngun
Sitting there on the bank with
my feet resting on the gravel
edge of the river and the water
, tapping my toes was just one
of the best times. We didn't do
much talking on those occasions
, for my father insisted the fish
would not bite if we did. I don't
know to this day whether that
is true or just maybe a ruse to
keep me from asking questions.
There is much more excite
ment in fishing in your sounds
and imagine even more in salt
water fishing So many kinds OF
fish come into the net even when
dragging a small shrimp net and
even small turtles will hang on
to the crab bait on crab line
until you can bring them in
board. There is always some
thing going on, not just sitting
on a hazy, lazy day listening to
the lap of water, the buzz of in
sects and the rustic of leaves or
grass that make up the atmos-
phere Of still river, or creek fish