Golden BeachA Poem by Keith A true story. We made Groote Eylandt
our home, In the Territory for a
while. Every weekend was an
adventure We enjoyed the best lifestyle. Tales of Snapper caught
on a reef, Over lunch I got the
tip. A mud map drawn on a
serviette Held the plans for my fishing
trip. The directions were
specific, Go six miles north to
an isle. There you will find a
golden beach, Keep going just one
mile. Go round the point to
the open sea Sail on past the bluff. There you might find a
modest swell, It can get a little rough. When the sounder shows
four fathoms, A hundred yards from
the shore. That’s where you
drop your anchor, For a six pound fish,
or more. Get there before the
rising tide And stay for an hour or
two. This place is a red hot
fishing spot Known only to a chosen
few. We all set sail in my
motor boat Two sons a daughter and
wife. All were extremely
excited We shared an enchanted life. We reached that isle in
a little while, But beyond the bluff a
choppy sea. The family promptly
announced, “On that beach we’d rather be”. “Fishing today is not OK In a boat that is being
tossed. We don’t see any fun
in that, The pleasure would be
lost. On that golden beach we’d like to
play, Relax and take our
leisure". We’d have that
island to ourselves To explore and hunt for
treasure.” To navigate the
shallows, The main outboard was
lifted. We used the auxiliary
motor As near the beach we
drifted. All were keen to reach
that beach Off the bow my family
leapt. All splashing the last twenty
yards Towards that sand they stepped. I saw happy smiles on
every face, When I left them all
behind, So excited about their adventure And the treasures they
would find. I turned the boat away
from the beach And headed for the
deep. I had a date with destiny That I intended to
keep. I stopped and lowered
the main outboard, One hundred yards from
shore. I caught a glimpse of
my family, All waving, I’m blessed for
sure. How nice of them to
wish me luck, Waving back I resumed
my trip. I hoped this spot would
be as good As claimed by the man
with the tip. An hour of rolling in
the swell Left me feeling rather
crook. I did consider heading
back, But they all might
think I’m a sook. They all would be having
so much fun I would hate to cut
that short. I decided to stay on
longer, And continue my fishing
sport. But the fish did not
cooperate The total count was
zero. Heading home that day
no way I’d be a fishing
hero. The higher tide let me
get close To that beach, thirty
yards I guess. I called my wife on
that golden sand “How about you swim the rest?” Her response was terse
and to the point With expletives she did
screech. Without a doubt her
message was clear “Get that bloody boat on this beach!”. They very quickly
scrambled aboard All seeming rather
stressed. There were nasty jeers and
signs of tears, It hadn’t gone well I
guessed. I had to wait until
halfway home When things were a
little calmer. Only then could they
explain The nature of their
drama. There had been a
chilling silence But then I copped a
blast. It seems the problem
was all my fault! I wanted to get home
fast. I had dropped them onto
a sandbar A meager twenty feet
wide. It further shrank to
only ten With the rising of the
tide. On the other side a
creepy swamp, Swirling with crocodiles. With sandflies and
mosquitos It soon wiped off their
smiles. The entire beach was
covered in tracks Man eating crocs from
the size. They had spent two
hours in terror While I fished for my
snapper prize. They had waited for the
imminent attack From the swamp or from
the sea. With only five feet either
way There was not much room
to flee. Their situation did not
improve I was told when they
were waving They were screaming for
dear life. They were calling me to
rescue them From all that peril and
strife. I’d encountered
a niggly family before Occasionally in the
poo. But this was far more
serious, The intensity something
new. They’d forgiven my
previous mishaps Like getting us lost or
bogged. How could they ever get
over this When they really wanted
me flogged? This nasty little
incident Never mentioned to this
day. To be sure I’ll never raise
it It’s pretty safe
to say. © 2013 KeithAuthor's Note
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KeithGippsland, Victoria, AustraliaAboutI grew up on a diet of Australian bush poetry. Now a business consultant, I spend far too much time on aeroplanes and in hotels, I use this time to write. I like to tell stories and have fun. If y.. more..Writing
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