It was a camp Ray had never heard of, and both of us were worried about one massive, scary thing; humans. This wasn’t a typical fly fishing lodge like those catering to the Australian and American anglers headed to CXI. It was a guesthouse set up specifically to accommodate fisherman, snorkelers and birders wanting to do their own thing. We arrived to find mainly Canadian DIY anglers, and one outcast. Well, now 3 outcasts. Bad Andy (Good Andy) was a sweetheart of a guy from the Western USA with a past as colourful as his tattoos, and he’d fallen in love with Fly Fishing. He was super keen to learn, had a wicked sense of humour, and seemed anti-establishment -he’d be fine with us. The girls in camp had also fallen head over heels with Andy, and would giggle in delight at his every pass. One had even confessed her undying love for Andy, pushed her way into his room and had shown him some island tiddies. -Andy was living.
Andy had also managed to find some skunk on the island, and on hearing Coolios “Fantastic Voyage” playing over the bluetooth speaker, had mentally qualified us and popped his head into our room to see if we were keen. Being the hardcore 3 beer paralytic drunk I am, I decided to opt out, but off went Ray.
I sat organising tackle when a few hours later I heard a few muffled giggles and Ray popped back in the room, looking like they’d cut the weed with bath salts.
“Shit I am fucked up” he mumbled and giggled as he lay down and passed out (the wrong way around). A few minutes later (probably felt like hours in his state), Ray attempted to hoist his head against what looked like 50kg of pressure, tilted it to the side, looked at me organising my tackle and asked with a very concerned look, “Peter, is it morning or night ?”. Now I wish I’d taken my time and considered how much fun it would have been to prank Ray into thinking it was 5:30, getting him to tackle and suit up and stumble to the car only to realise it was still night, but I must have been too jet-lagged from the 4 day trip over to spot the opportunity. I missed the perfect shot.