THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

Our problem was catching the necessary live-baits, which were extremely difficult to come by. But we
did eventually get a few, and we did connect with what presumably were large powerful hurta bream.
Dave Devine in particular who had one so powerful it was completely un-stoppable and looked like it
might drag his arms from their sockets before finally making it back to sanctuary in the reef. Needless
to say none were landed.
When the live-baits were gone, we were forced to revert back to cut bait, whereupon Dave's brother
John brought up a small moray eel of several pounds.
I remember it lying there on the deck with its head just poking out of the landing net, so I decided to
grab a few photographs. Unfortunately, as I leaned over to pick up my camera, my left hand must have
been trailing close to the moray's mouth and it struck.
Instinctively, I whipped my arm back with the fish still attached, and presumably banged it against the
side of the boat causing it to let ago. But by then unfortunately the damage was already done.
One finger in particular was cut right down to the white bone, and there was blood everywhere. In that
short time it had inflicted over thirty assorted cuts and scratches across my fingers and hand.
Immediately it was bandaged up, but it wouldn't stop bleeding. So the bandage was tied tighter to the
point that my finger end was turning purple and throbbing.
Unfortunately, being so close to the border on the wrong side to go ashore, we couldn't have been further
away from help, besides which, everyone else wanted to get on with the fishing, as you do.
The blood however just kept kept on coming. Then we spotted a police boat close by. Apparently there
had been a border incident involving some sort of gun firing the day before from the Spanish side, so
the police were on high visual alert.
Tony made a quick call to them on the VHF to see if they could help and over they came, took me
onboard, then radioed ahead for an ambulance to come to a tiny piece of beach next to the border, and
promptly took me in.
This tiny beach as it turns out was quite steep, though not perhaps steep enough for the police boat to
nose right up onto, besides which there was a bit of an edge to the sea. The ambulance was there ready
and waiting. It was bridging that gap between the two that was going to be the problem.
I can't swim, so that was out of the
question. In the end one of the
policemen went in, followed by me.
He then towed me by the chin to the
waters edge where quite a crowd had
gathered which he told I was a Spanish
drug smuggler.
Moray Damage
Then to complete my humiliation, at
the hospital, some geordie nurses
pinned a luggage label to me
describing my injuries for the doctor,
which read 'attacked by ferocious
fish'.
Stitched up, injected, and on a course
of anti-biotics, I was told not to go out
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