I initially encountered the Tarrants and most of the other fishermen in the "Bottom Bar" at the Nelson Bay RSL Club which certainly was an eye opener for a young school teacher like me.

Fishermen and "tradies" simply walked off the street and ordered a schooner with no "sign in" book at the door and having no concern for any dress regulations or codes of behavior.

The "Bottom Bar", down in the cellars on ground level, had a musty smell of cigarette smoke, sweat, fish and booze.

Plumbing pipes which serviced the upper floor of the club hung down from the ceiling and occasionally sprung a leak. The bar was popular as the beer was excellent and the atmosphere was great.

The bare footed fishermen gathered in one corner of the smoky bar room without a care in the world, until it was time to leave.

The entrance to the "Bottom Bar" was through a door off the car park, the only problem was that occasionally at closing time the door was locked and all the remaining patrons were forced to leave the club through the Members Lounge and the front foyer.

To satisfy the dress regulations relating to "suitable footwear", one fisherman would exit the club wearing a pair of thongs that were borrowed, then he would return to the car park and toss them through the window for his mate to wear.

Up to eight fishermen would leave the club wearing the same pair of thongs.

I don't know if it is true but, on one occasion, I was told that there were no thongs available however the fishermen managed to get a pair of diving flippers.

Over the years one of the Tarrants has been responsible for unbolting toilets from the concrete slab and painting chooks blue on Broughton Island.

The same fisherman has also been seen drop kicking bricks and frozen chooks across the road.

Many years ago, I motored over to Tea Gardens to witness the "Prawn Draw", the allocation of positions on the river for professional fishers to net the Myall prawn.

A large crowd had gathered and were eagerly awaiting the outcome of the draw.

All eyes were on the draw when a big dog, which had been purposely dunked in the river, was set down right in the middle of the crowd of fishermen.

The dog did what all wet dogs do and that is to shake it's self dry. Well the crowd, including me, immediately forgot the prawn draw and ran for cover. As one, the fishermen, wiping themselves down, gasped - "the Tarrants".

Stinker's book Old Salt is available from newsagents and bookshops across the Hunter or from www.stinker.com.au.