The Thing About Fishing

Why People Sit Beside Glenn

On Frankston Pier, fishing is just the beginning. Glenn calls Trim’s Café his office, a familiar corner where days begin, conversations linger and people know to look for him. He sits outside, always outside. A coffee close by.

A cigarette between his fingers. People slow as they pass. Some wave. Some stop. Some pull up a chair and stay longer than they planned.
It happens quietly, again and again, the way familiar places do when people feel safe enough to pause.

Before you ever reach the pier, it’s clear Glenn is someone people recognise and more importantly, someone they trust without needing to explain themselves.
“Straight down the line,” he says. “No bullshit. I call it as it is.”He shrugs off the nickname “Guru Glenn.” Labels don’t interest him. Showing up does.

Before the Pier

Glenn always starts at the beginning. Not because he wants to relive it, but because, as he puts it, understanding where someone comes from helps explain why they listen the way they do.

His early life was marked by instability and fear. Alcohol, violence and neglect shaped a childhood where survival came early and softness came late. Toughness wasn’t a choice, it was learned. For years, that way of living followed him.

What Glenn speaks about now isn’t detail, but consequence. “I carried a lot of unforgiveness,” he says. “Toward my parents. Toward the people who hurt me. And toward myself.”

It took time, more than a year, before forgiveness became real for him. Not as a gesture, but as a decision.

“When I forgave them,” he says simply, “my whole life changed.” The anger loosened. The constant sense of threat eased.

He stepped away from formal church life, but not from faith or reflection. What remained was quieter. A daily grounding, and a belief in listening more than speaking. Then, one night, everything stopped.

An injury left Glenn unable to work and, for a time, unable to walk. Independence disappeared overnight. What remained was time — and eventually, the pier.

Where People Began to Sit Beside Him

When Glenn could finally leave the house, the pier became his destination.

At first, it was practical. A place to sit. A place to pass time. Close enough to manage pain and limited movement. Fishing gave his hands something to do while the rest of life slowly recalibrated. He never set out to teach anyone, but kids noticed, learning by watching how he tied lines and waited.

They watched him rig lines. Asked questions. Tried their luck. Glenn would quietly re-tie a knot, add bait, show them how to cast. No lesson plans. No instructions. Just presence.

Around that time, Glenn met Brian Rowley, another regular on the pier. Fishing side by side, the two talked life as much as lures. It was Brian who first suggested running a simple kids’ fishing day, nothing formal, just an open invitation. That small idea changed everything.

Those early sessions became Junior Guru Fishing, a kids’ fishing club now held regularly on the pier, welcoming children from toddlers through to teenagers, many arriving unsure and leaving more confident.

Parents stood nearby. Some stayed. Some sat down. And gradually, people began doing something else too. They talked. Not always about fishing. About school. About family. About things that felt heavy. Sometimes about nothing at all. Sometimes not at all.

“That’s okay,” Glenn says. “You don’t have to fill the space.”

The Real Work

What grew from those early days became That’s The Thing About Fishing, a registered not-for-profit supporting children, young people and adults.

Through connection, routine and shared time outdoors, the impact reaches far beyond the kids.

Over time, people began volunteering not because they had everything sorted, but because they didn’t. Some arrived carrying anxiety or depression. Others had been referred through support services. Glenn’s answer was often the same. “Come help. Be around.”

There were no expectations to share, explain or perform. Just space, routine and usefulness. Many volunteers have since moved back into work or new chapters of life. Glenn sees that as success. “If someone doesn’t need us anymore,” he says, “that’s a good thing.”

During COVID, when isolation hit hard, Glenn’s work shifted online. Conversations that once happened beside fishing rods moved into digital spaces, creating room for young people who were struggling and had nowhere else to turn.

It was during this time that Glenn met Hannah. Together, they started Young People with a Purpose, holding space for young people navigating mental health challenges and isolation.

“I’ve personally volunteered with Glenn and had the opportunity to work alongside him running Young People with a Purpose, a platform where we held space for young people living with mental health challenges, helping them see they weren’t alone,” Hannah says.

“Glenn listens. He cares. And he’s helped me deeply, just as he’s helped countless others find hope, strength and connection through the simple act of fishing.”
Glenn doesn’t dwell on recognition or titles. What keeps him returning to the pier is simpler.

People arrive. They sit down. They stay.
If fishing is just the bonus, what’s the real thing about fishing?
The answer isn’t spoken.
It’s sitting there, beside him.