| Author: | John Bryson | ISBN: | 9781922219282 |
| Publisher: | John Bryson | Publication: | July 1, 2014 |
| Imprint: | John Bryson | Language: | English |
| Author: | John Bryson |
| ISBN: | 9781922219282 |
| Publisher: | John Bryson |
| Publication: | July 1, 2014 |
| Imprint: | John Bryson |
| Language: | English |
Islanders, Far South - Three feature pieces and one column piece in one volume, events in the lives of southern fishing communities in Tasmania.
1.Pride of the Crayfish Fleet.
Life in the Bass Strait Islands, out of the Port of Lady Barron.
THE CRAYFISH I HOLD in my hand is forty years old. By whatever system of temporal measurement crayfish use, it is a very old man. In a few weeks its tail will be sliced into the white discs restaurateurs like to call medallions, and moistened with sauces. By then it will be in America.
2.The Oldest Abalone Diver in the Business.
The Oldest Abalone Diver in the Business is the man who began the abalone fishery in Australia. To better understand the pattern of natural distribution, he swam from south of Adelaide city to the Wilson's Promontory, a journey of a thousand kilometers.
The weather under the sea changes every few hours. Ebb tide here brings a warm current, hazy with microscopic debris of the shallows, and as fitful as a hot and dusty wind.
- Digging Holes in the Sea.
Working throughout the night at sea, fugitive from un-named troubles in Ireland, Dublin Danny joins the crew, showing skills as a seaman, heavy smoker and chef.
Two of us stand on the rear deck, resting against the wheelhouse, poses much like nonchalance, but we're leaning there because the steel plates are warm from the heating inside.
- Tasmania, a Lovesong.
Families, communities and voyages, beginning in Hobart Town.
SNOW ON THE MOUNTAIN above, and awash with the tides are Waterman's steps, where a pretty Gaff Trader lies forever in state, on show to the modern world, built one hundred and ten years back, so plying these Hobart wharves in 1912, in commission loading lumber, when a Norwegian anchored alongside, this the Fram, an adventurer, leaky and gouged from the ices South, lying back on her chain while a longboat ferried quiet Amundsen for the Dockside, he loosing his greatcoat for the walk to the telegraph, composing the words to be sent to his King.
Islanders, Far South - Three feature pieces and one column piece in one volume, events in the lives of southern fishing communities in Tasmania.
1.Pride of the Crayfish Fleet.
Life in the Bass Strait Islands, out of the Port of Lady Barron.
THE CRAYFISH I HOLD in my hand is forty years old. By whatever system of temporal measurement crayfish use, it is a very old man. In a few weeks its tail will be sliced into the white discs restaurateurs like to call medallions, and moistened with sauces. By then it will be in America.
2.The Oldest Abalone Diver in the Business.
The Oldest Abalone Diver in the Business is the man who began the abalone fishery in Australia. To better understand the pattern of natural distribution, he swam from south of Adelaide city to the Wilson's Promontory, a journey of a thousand kilometers.
The weather under the sea changes every few hours. Ebb tide here brings a warm current, hazy with microscopic debris of the shallows, and as fitful as a hot and dusty wind.
- Digging Holes in the Sea.
Working throughout the night at sea, fugitive from un-named troubles in Ireland, Dublin Danny joins the crew, showing skills as a seaman, heavy smoker and chef.
Two of us stand on the rear deck, resting against the wheelhouse, poses much like nonchalance, but we're leaning there because the steel plates are warm from the heating inside.
- Tasmania, a Lovesong.
Families, communities and voyages, beginning in Hobart Town.
SNOW ON THE MOUNTAIN above, and awash with the tides are Waterman's steps, where a pretty Gaff Trader lies forever in state, on show to the modern world, built one hundred and ten years back, so plying these Hobart wharves in 1912, in commission loading lumber, when a Norwegian anchored alongside, this the Fram, an adventurer, leaky and gouged from the ices South, lying back on her chain while a longboat ferried quiet Amundsen for the Dockside, he loosing his greatcoat for the walk to the telegraph, composing the words to be sent to his King.
