Swansea – February 2010

Meanwhile the rest of us were dots on the horizon. The tide & sea made the bar a touch tricky but nothing serious. Out on the blue it was every man for himself as we searched for sign of fishy activity. The birds were conspicuous by their absence. There were no tell tale splashes, no line of hungry mouths chomping away, not even a cluster of boats to blowfly. It was looking grim. Wayne & I motored slowly north, hunting. We scanned for birds etc but our first sign was something far more subtle, it was nervous water. Nervous water looks a bit like a ” Cats Paw “, that sudden isolated rippling of water that sailors know heralds a sudden wind gust of short duration. In this case the reason for the water looking agitated or ‘nervous’ was the presence of marine life, be it small fish or other marine creatures such as zoo-plankton. In other words, prey. And pray we did.

Our prayers were answered when we spied small splashes indicating feeding fish. Closer inspection revealed the splashers [ splashees ? ] as Cowanyoung AKA Yakkas or Yellow tail. While naturally disappointed they weren’t Tuna I thought they represented an excellent chance to get the monkey off my back so to speak. I don’t know how many times I dropped a fly in amongst them but it was all to no avail. Yakkas are hardly finicky eaters & can usually be relied on to whack any offering but not these guys. I changed flies but it was no good. Then a small school of Tuna burst onto the surface within range. One cast & they sounded, leaving me very optimistic I would be in action very soon. However that one brush with the quarry proved to be a flash in the pan as nothing more was seen for the next 30mins, the party pooping Yakkas hanging around to have a laugh at my expense. A change of location was decided to be the cure & so we motored south past Moon Island.

Again the ocean looked featureless, with no sign of activity. It was time to get tough, because when the going gets tough the tough go harling. I flicked my fly o’er the side & we proceeded to slowly motor south. Not cricket you say? Poppycock say I. Fly fishing has many rules, traditions, ethics & suchlike, most of which derive from England. These include things like it aint fly fishing if you don’t use a dry fly on a chalk steam or any other species than trout is a “coarse fish”. Oh really. I reckon anything that would eat a cockroach has no right to airs or graces. Don’t get me wrong, a big part of our sport is un-corking that pearler of a cast which then proves the undoing of your opponent. However if you have nothing to cast to what do you do, just meekly pack up & go home? Or try something different. If nothing else harling may tease the fish up whereby the cast may cease to be engine assisted & become one delivered by hand.

Ken was keen for his Grandson Mitch to open his account as a flyfisher & so he proceeded to go a’harling & was quickly rewarded for his efforts. A strike then Mitch had the honour of picking up the 10wt & for the first time felt a fly rod come alive with bucking of a big fish. A bit too big unfortunately as it broke a 20lb leader with ease. For a moment it had been a double hook up & after Ken had released his fish, a Frigate Mackeral, they set off again. The next time Mitch hooked up there was no repeat of the earlier drama & he soon had his own Frigate in the boat, his first on fly & his first as a CCFR member. It seems he got a taste for it as he went on to bag 4 more. When this young bloke breaks his duck he doesn’t muck about! I too had some success, first with a Bonito then with a Mack Tuna. They were the first of each species I had caught & the strength & power of their runs was an eye opener. These fish were only around the half kilo mark but each put a very respectable curve in the old 8wt while the Mack took my line out & into the backing. As Oliver Twist said ” Please sir, I’d like some more!”

More of what the day brought was the last thing on Mac’s mind. Let me explain. The trip started well. Mac had been teamed up with Big Bad John, Robertson that is. So far so good. Mac’s vessel was built to handle harsher conditions than those it faced that day. So all should have been sweet. Except that Mac had forgotten to equip his boat with flares. I know what you’re going to say, that the sixties are gone, man, like far out gone. Wrong flares. As it was such a lovely day lots of boaties were out & about, providing a target rich enviroment for Waterways who were out & checking all & sundry. When Mac’s lack of flares was discovered his excuse that he had no intention of proceeding more that 2 nautical miles out didn’t hold water apparently. 2 days later he recieved a fine. The rego for the boat, paid for in full, took 3 weeks to arrive. A word to the wise, if you are 2 or more nautical miles from a safe landing place you may be in the wrong. Check the regs, save the pain [ not to mention the bucks ].

Still smarting from his latest contribution to general state revenue Mac chose to fish close by Moon Island. The Gods of fishing, apparently appeased by his sacrifice of gold, decided to bestow their favour. From nowhere fish started to appear randomly. Mac chose a full sink line, all the better to haul up through the school while Big Bad John plugged away with a floater. Mac’s intuition won the day when he connected to, fought, then boated a very bonny Bonito, his first. Check out the trip photos, the grin says it all. You’d never guess the state govt. had just plundered his wallet. Big Bad John was doing it tougher still. Fishless, he tried mental telepathy, staring into the depths & willing them to appear. Next he tried a bit of fish whispering & yodelled their name. They’re all called RUUUUUTHHHH apparently. Mac took pity on him eventually & they went back inside.

Gary & his lucky shirt made it outside unscathed along with new member Boe Boesen. Like others they were greeted by a empty scene, no clear indication of were to start. They tried casting around Moon Island before Gary decided to start harling, trolling, whatever. It has to said Gary don’t hold with it, doesn’t think that anything caught by this method counts as flyfishing. But he put his own personal feelings aside in order to give Boe a chance at his first ever saltwater fish. It worked as Boe came up tight to a Bonito. He was delighted with the fight it put up. It was his first capture as a member too. Welcome board, Boe

Jeff & John, Roberts that is, went further than most. They travelled all the way to Wybung seeing many things including turtles, seals & dolphin. They even saw 2 fish. The first was a shark which went about 6 feet between the tail & the dorsal fin. J.R. thought it would have been better if there was 6km between he & it! The second fish was spied by J.R. then caught by Jeff, single handed. He leant over the side & scooped it aboard. It was a Salmon of moose proportions, lying on the surface gasping it’s last after some “sportsman” had played it’s heart out then ‘released it’. Tip; If you’re going to release it, reel it in & release it quick. If you’re going to keep it, kill it quick. Stress hormones do nothing to improve the flavour of the flesh. The lads then decided to head back inside, where Jeff managed to salvage their honour with a pair of flathead, which he returned to fight another day in better condition than the unfortunate Sambo.

Rob & Craig were paired up in the debonaire “Dora D”. As all was ship-shape in the safety locker the only thing on their minds was where to cast. Craig is an enthusiastic fly tyer who is prepared to give any pattern a go. Nothing is too wierd, wacky or improbable. He’ll give them all a try. This trip though he chose something traditional, a white clouser. A firm favourite of the deep north of Queensland & also the Territory where they reckon if a white clouser ain’t working then tie on a bigger white clouser. Craig’s faith in the tried & true paid off with a Mack Tuna, a new species for him.

Damo & Murray ventured up to the bar where they witnessed Mac’s unfortunate encounter. A quick check by Damo found him in breach of the regs as he had everything but a torch on board. He decided discretion to be the better part of valour & headed back towards the bridge. The boys had a very thin time of it, catching next to nothing. I say next to nothing as there was some mention of a pair of toad fish caught & released but such talk has since dried up. That leaves a couple of blokes that have many years of experience between them. Both Col & Jimmy are good at this game & would have scored out wide but as Col’s boat is a touch on the small side they too fished inside the channel. However, as mentioned previously pickin’s were slim inside & the best they could do was a Flathead caught by Col.

Back at the ramp & that’s when we discovered we had a couple of late starters. Terry Whitter & his son Mark had rocked up after we had left due to Terry’s late night in Sydney at the AC/DC concert. He was still bopping all those hours later, the memory of the music more than compensating his lack of fishy luck. Mark had worked hard to get something, even putting out an involuntary personal berly trail. All to no avail. Then it was time for lunch. Mitch had proved himself as a fisherman & now he proved he was a CCFR member by mucking in with the Barbie. He helped cook for & serve our hungry fishos, not eating himself untill everyone else had been fed. I don’t think we’ll be throwing him back anytime soon, he’s definitely a ‘keeper’. Just like this venue. It’s been the scene of heartbreak & of great success. It offers choice & the chance of some seriously good fishing if the Gods are smiling. It too is a keeper in that we’ll keep coming back.