7. The village of Katwijk

It was busier than usual on the pier, with many fishermen trying their luck. Logan explained that the conditions this morning were exactly right. The tide was coming in, it was not too windy, and the fish were biting. Most of the fish caught were bream and yellowtail but there were also a few flatheads and, as usual at this time of the year, there were plenty of blue swimmer crabs.

A big Jennie, a female mud crab

Fish were not the only things that were visible this morning, I also saw a big cruise ship that was about to enter the mouth of the river, before making its way to the new Brisbane cruise terminal. It would be taking on new passengers during the day and would then leave, late in the afternoon, on a voyage to North Queensland. Molly had mentioned to me that his daughter would be on board and that he and his wife planned to come back to the pier in the afternoon, to see her depart. The forecast was for the wind to pick up later, which could make it a bit choppy on the bay, with the passengers feeling the ship’s movements more than usual.

One of the regular fishermen, Dan, caught a yellowtail pike, just as I was standing there on the pier, and I was interested to hear that he usually takes these home and smokes them himself. Logan made the comment that he didn’t particularly like yellowtail, finding them too oily for his taste, however, according to Dan, the fact that they are oily is what makes them ideal for smoking.

I gather that, in the past, it had been quite common practice to smoke your own fish in Australia. However, now that many shops here sell smoked products such as trout, which is a premium product, it seems that not many fishermen do bother to smoke their own. Dan, however, does take pride in smoking his own catch and he does enjoy the result.

In Holland, people still eat a lot of smoked fish. I think that eel, mackerel and “bokking” (smoked herring) were most popular when I was young. Nowadays, imported fish, such as smoked salmon and trout, would be on the menu there as well.

When I was 17 years old I worked for a short while in the seaside village of Katwijk. I was employed as a junior clerk by a company that owned a number of deep-sea fishing boats, which operated in the North Sea and beyond. The ships stayed away at sea for weeks at a time. The fish which they brought back were processed in the company’s own factory, to which the office in which I worked was attached.

One part of the factory produced large numbers of glass jars filled with pickled herring fillets or, alternatively, with rolled, filleted sour herring with gherkins and onions. It sounds worse than it actually was, but you would be right in thinking that it was a noisy and fishy smelling environment, and, a hive of activity, right next to our office.

The other half of the factory produced smoked herring products, the most famous of these being the “Brado”. The Brado was a cold-smoked herring, headless and folded open and flattened. It was different from other smoked fish and was very popular. Large trucks delivered the factory’s products to the shops throughout The Netherlands and Belgium.

On one occasion I was allowed to accompany a driver on a trip to Belgium, my first “international” expedition. It was a great trip with many stops, to offload crates and barrels of fish, in quaint little towns. On another occasion I was invited on board one of the fishing boats when it was repositioned from one Dutch fishing port to another. The whole voyage lasted less than 10 hours and took place during daylight. As I was not seasick, I loved every minute of it.

The village of Katwijk was a long way from our home and I had to ride my bike there and back every day. It would probably have taken me more than an hour each way and in winter it would have been dark as early as 4 pm, which meant that I had to cycle home with my headlight on. I always wore the same jacket and, surprise, surprise…. my family told me that I always smelled of fish when I came home. They must have loved me!

View from the Shorncliffe Pier

On the way back from the pier I noticed Dick and Sam sitting together and talking, while Miley, Sam’s dog, was lying on the grass in front of them. Miley is a beautiful Ridgeback Staffi Mastiff and goes everywhere Sam goes. She apparently wakes him up every morning at 4.15 a.m. by jumping on his bed.

Today was another good day. I was able to take a photo of a big mud crab, talk to Dan about smoking yellowtail, discuss the state of the world with Dick and Logan, and catch up with Sam and his beautiful and faithful companion. 

O.P.

P.S. Next week’s post will be about Ol’ Man River, the Mississippi.