Thanks to a very effective national education programme, I grew up burying away all my ethnic roots, including the ability to speak Khek and Teochew. Even my taste for dishes […]
In my earlier posting, I gave a quick description of how to make a gyotaku at home. Long after the fish is eaten, it is not forgotten because its gyotaku hanging on […]
Unless I am bringing this to a vegan’s potluck party, sushi tend to be the first to disappear from the table, leaving me feeling that I had been too stingy and should have bought 120 pieces instead. As a consequence, I learned to make my own Sushi, and that made it very affordable to bring sushi for a pot luck party.
My first introduction to administering the final stroke of Coup de Grâce was in my book of Whales by Jacques Cousteau. I didn’t relish what I read, as a 13-year old schoolboy and that night, lost my appetite for dinner
As fate would have it, the sales lady showed me all I needed and thus I was committed to making my first Gyotaku. I bought a pad of rice paper, washable non-toxic ink, (this was the deciding factor as I wanted to be able to still eat the fish after Gyotaku so none is wasted) and a calligraphic brush – I didn’t know why I bought this brush since I can’t even write my name in Chinese properly, let alone write calligraphy in Kanji. But I thought it looked like a set so I bought it anyway, and went home feeling kinda scholarly.
This reel was launched hot on the heels of the successful 2014 Shimano Calcutta Conquest and it looked like other than a longer handle with an oversized EVA knob and a higher gear ratio, this reel must have been borrowing heavily from the 2014 Conquest’s parts bin… Or is it?
We had no idea about fishing except to watch the boatman. If he drops a line to fish, it’s time to fish diligently. If he stops to take a nap, it’s time to take our lunch since he knows the fish are not expected to bite. At the end of a day’s fishing, we mostly go home dejected, with a packet each of unfinished live prawns to cook with our instant noodles, and the apologetic excuse from the boatman that “water was cold this trip, better luck next time”. At that time, I often wondered what he meant by cold water when I was being roasted alive under the hot sun…
When my cousin James and I were kids, all we wanted to do was to go fishing whenever we could. It didn’t matter when it was. As long as we had a chance to wet a line, to soak a bait, we would go. Often, James’ grandfather, an old sea salt, would mumble that we’d be wasting time fishing, but we disregarded him, went fishing and came back disappointed. We never understood why he “knew” if we would catch fish or not. Some years later, I’d study my precious ABU Tight Lines catalogue, heeding the chart that predicts fishing quality by the number of fish symbols. That was not too bad… Eventually, I heard about Solunar Theory in the late 90s. I did as much research as I could at the infancy of the Internet but never understood a thing. Today, after many years of observing our catches at the East Johor Straits, I’m going to attempt to explain the Solunar Theory as I understand it, and I hope you would find this easier to understand.
Japanese Tairaba jigs are probably the only artificial lure that a bait fisherman is familiar with. Commonly nicknamed “Madai”, it took the Singapore fishing scene by storm sometime back in the […]
After a night’s efforts, fishing on the East Johor Straits, sleepy and red-eyed before my shot of caffeine, I was disappointed to find I’ve used up all my pre diluted Salt-X. Oh well, I thought, now is as good a time to prove/disprove the theory that if I rinsed my gear thoroughly enough, the salt will be displaced and all would be well. So instead of taking out the syringe to mix up a batch of Salt-X, I rinsed my used lures in warm running tap water. Drained the bucket, rinsed them a second time. Drained the bucket again, and refilled with warm water, left them aside and tended to my bath.
The result put my thoughts to rest.