RIP - Black Velvet 1960 - 2006

Many of you will be sad to hear of the tragic loss of 'Black Velvet' my favourite vintage Jitterbug. It was taken suddenly in a vicious attack by a large bass whilst swimming on the fringe of a water lily patch in Clarrie Hall early last week. It will be sadly missed by myself and all those that fished with it over the years. It went they way it would have wanted, doing what it loved best – catching bass. I hope it’s up there blooping across the big bass pond in the sky, its little barbless hooks straight, shining and sharp and its bib no longer loose.

RIP BLACK VELVET 
1960 - 2006

The coroners report is citing a dodgy knot as the cause of loss. Police will be conductiong further inquiries.

The Ghost

I have read and heard of many old cedar-getters (who often relied on bass for food) and early recreational anglers fashioning crude 'perch' or bass lures from bits of Australian Red Cedar (Toona ciliata). These early lures were whittled from timber that grew tall in the valleys of the eastern flowing water shed where bass live. Despite their crudeness they would have accounted for some of the largest bass ever caught, albeit in the days before habitat destruction and other pressures sadly reduced our bass fishery to what it is today. I reckon no other lure fishing style more uniquely represents east coast fishing. I look at the hard and soft plastic lures that fill my tackle boxes to overflow and it inspires nothing of that great era and the almost lost 'do it yourself' mentality, this makes me sad. In sympathy of such lost tradition I felt the urge to start making a few cedar lures of my own. Here's what I hope will be the first of many, a small cedar popper I call The Ghost.

I dip coat them with 2 coats of marine varnish (thinned down). It is a crude but effective wood coating, the thirsty old cedar soaks it up, seals well and floats nice and high. I have made them out of Huon pine also (they look really wild) but the darker colour of the cedar seems to 'profile' better against the dark banks of the creeks I fish (read as - I get more fish on the dark colour).

At the moment I really just make them for myself as a bit of fun but I am thinking of doing a range of surface lures this winter when I have more time to play. I am getting some better stainless hardware, barbless hooks etc, I hope to be selling some by next spring.

Right Lure - Wrong Fish

Over the years I have tangled with a few strange fish that have eaten bass lures.

A Tailor that ate a Bettspin


Same day as the above, a silver trevally on a betts, perhaps too much salt water....

 
One of many flatties I have taken, this one on a small spinner bait in a fallen tree snag that should have held bass

EP's

Many of you would know that the bass fishing on the far south coast has suffered badly due to the continuing drought that has decimated many of my regular bass creeks. In my search for new fishable bass water I have begun fishing what I would consider 'fringe water' in the lower sections of my usual bass systems. A few bass have been found but my EP by catch has gone through the roof. My best day thus far saw 18 EPs landed in a morning session. I love EP's, they are a tad angrier than bass, consistently take surface lures and they live in really beautiful places - pretty much like bass I guess. Here’s a few pics featuring myself and a few of my mates that explore with me (and EP by catch of course)

A typical little EP
 

Gus with a nice 42cm model 

Sammy 65 from Lucky Craft is a top 'walk the dag' style lure for EP's
 

Peter getting in on the EP surface action with a nice fish.

Mat with his first EP,  he went on to nail numerous fish that day.

The EP's big night vision eyes get used a lot

Double hookups are not that uncommon, here Mat Hedger holds up a pair taken whilst sharing 'The Rubber Duck'

Beneath The Giant Casuarinas

The giant Casuarina trees stood bathed with crimson light, the air was still and the water mirrored the world upside down. It was just the kind of afternoon one would expect the bass to look upward and examine the menu above to see what tasty morsels might be had for tea.


Peter and I made our way quietly along the lower section of the huge pool, probing the overhangs and protruding structure in search of bass. The bass were there, tell tale swirls and boils in all the likely lies but they were only half hearted, not in the aggressive mood we found them in on our last venture to this stretch.


As the western horizon drew the sun down, the bass became a little more game in their taunting of the little surface lures, a few rats took it too far and found themselves hooked. These little bronzed tusslers were not the size of fish we wanted but we were content to be on the water and anything was better than the skunking we'd had the previous evening on one of our secret waters.


As darkness neared, my bevy prop was slammed by a good weighty fish, without pause it ran hard and fast, the song from my Stradic ended abruptly as the bass buryed me into a fallen wattle branch and earnt its freedom before I had time gain any hand.
Not five minutes later Peter let out his catch cry "Go you good thing!” His little Packraft was doing donuts in the middle of the pool, he chuckled like a school boy, the quite hour before had been forgotten.


A few shots of the lovely bronzed 37 and it was on its way home none the worse for an encounter with a Bubble Pop.
I had barely paddled back to the snag I was on when a loud "Go you good thing" drew my attention back to Peter, the louder chuckles and increased number of circles indicated a better fish. A fat healthy 40cm, Peter was stoked.


Another half hour passed without enquiry so we paddled quietly back down the pool with only a sliver of moon, the stars and a passing satellite to light our way. The quite of the night leaves us with a peace that clears the head and soul, perhaps that's why the giant Casuarina trees live so long.

Wild Exploration

I just spent a few days with the backpack on wearing a hole in my old Redback boots whilst checking out a few remote creeks to see if they held bass.

As always on such exploratory trips my packraft was stashed into my pack with my minimal ultra light camp gear. Many of these creeks are not easily accessible by foot and paddling in is often the only way to access the freshwater reaches.



In many of the smaller systems the demarcation between fresh and salt can be as little as 100 meters with a clear 'line' between the two; One can catch bream, EP's and Bass within cooee of each other.





This particular system had a good long stretch of fresh water that looked like it should hold decent bass.



Likely looking snags were covered with a variety of lures but the fish were reluctant with only a few decent boils under surface offerings, golden sides hinting that a bass was not far off. A cicada fizzer eventually worked its magic and an explosive strike saw me hooked up and loosing line to a good fish.



When I finally got colour it was the tell tale golden flanks that had me thinking I was into bass...then up came the scoped head. big eye and bucket mouth of a 41cm EP.



Sadly that was the only fish I could hook in the fresh water stretch. I will have to return and fish higher when time allows me the few extra days it would require. I opted for the consolation prize of 11 EPs and a brace of surface munching bream...it pays to be adaptable

Skinny Pop Jr from Zipbaits has to be one of the most effective surface lures around.

Like their freshwater cousins, night time is prime time for the EP's.

The Local

For a bass fisho living in a small rural community, one huge benefit is knowing the gentle easy going farmers that own the land each side of certain bits of 'hard to get to' bass rivers.

Things don't happen to quick in the country but we eventually gained permission to access a good stretch of water that we had our eye on for some time. It turned out to be a long stretch of deep shaded pools with plenty of cover.


I have almost fished the entire length of this river now and this was one of the deeper pool sections thus far.



Suffice to say the stretch produced some fit and fiery little bass.


The soft Cicada Fizzer has become my new fav lure of late


Peter (second day out) is beginning to think bass fishing is a bit easy....spoilt bugger



Sadly we could not stay later to fish on but we ended up with about 9 or 10 bass for the evening between 30 and 35cm. As always with a new location it will take a few return trips to work out the hidey holes. It is only 15 minutes from my place so plenty of opportunity.

A New PB Bass - 57cm

Recent decent rains have really improved the local water levels and hence my thoughts have once more turned to bass. My good friend and estuary fishing partner Peter had never caught a bass, so he was keen to give it a go. Sunday arvo was looking good so a plan was hatched and we hit the water at what I considered the perfect time. An even cloud cover, no breeze and a slight build up ahead of a change had my expectations high. Once at the waters edge we inflated our Alpackas and slipped into the water.

We had not gone more than 100 yards when there was a boil beneath Peters lure. I threw my Koolabung Cicada Fizzer to the opposite side of the snag, halfway back it disappeared into a gently boil, I struck and came up hard..... very hard... and very heavy, suddenly I was losing a lot of line in a hurry. The bass barreled through the surrounding weed beds like an underwater bulldozer. Paddling as well as one can with one hand, I got over the fish and managed to lift it free of the deep weed only to have it barrel off again. This game went on for what seemed an eternity until I eventually got the upper hand and lifted 57cms of solid bronzed bass. I was totally stoked.

One very fat bass

The Cicada Fizzer was bent into an L shape, but it held

After we had settled back down, Peter threw to the location of his first strike and was almost immediately smacked by a solid bass. A similar fight ensued and he landed his first ever bass, a plump and fit 42cm model. He was one very happy fisherman.



It must have only been three or four casts later and I was on again to a similar fish. Again it was a fat and fit bronzed fish of 42cm.



By this stage I was thinking it could not get any better than this, a PB for me, Peter landing his first bass (and a beauty at that) and another 40 plus for me...then I heard Peter, as another bass smacked his popper. I knew it was a good bass by the way he was being towed at speed out form the edge (hollering like a boy). The bass surged deep and did several powerful runs peeling line. In the clear water Peter had her beat by the time I caught him up in time to see him lift a 50.5cm bass



I did mention to Peter that he may have ruined his bass fishing career, getting a 50 plus on ones first outing sets a few expectations that may not be easily met


It has been over ten years since I landed my previous PB of 53cm, with my new PB @ 57cm I am wondering how long before I get another PB......

South East Wilderness Trip

The bumpy dirt road to our launch site climbs and winds up and over spectacular forested peaks that allows glimpses all the way back to the coast. Gus and I shout at each other over the noise of the Landrover as she rattles along throwing a shroud of dust over Duncan following behind in his trusty rusty Japanese wreck. I had literally pushed a canoe down this remote stretch of river once before, I caught some good bass but it was the toughest trip I had ever done and I vowed to return when water levels gave me easier access. 5 years later...

We were to spend 3 days paddling and fishing the river, exiting some 25k's downstream. The mandatory car juggle sees us on the water as the last of the morning mist drifts gently upward and then suddenly disappears.



The top section of the river is essentially a series of grade 2/3 rapids, so nerves kick in as we face the first of the white water. Fear of losing expensive fishing rods is soon forgotten as adrenaline takes over.



The morning is quickly consumed shooting white water. With only small fast flowing pools, very little fishing is done; the pace of the water dictates rapid fire casts into cover with bettspins.



As we head further downstream, calm deep pools become more common. The towering hills, giant casuarinas and dark tannin stained water add to the grand scale of the landscape.



By mid afternoon we are in a steady rhythm of shooting rapids and leapfrogging each other along the edges of the pools throwing at every likely bass hold.



The fish are not playing at all, it could be the cold water or perhaps they headed downstream on the recent floods to take the opportunity to meet like minded bass, share some brackish water and some loving'.



The sun sets on the first day. The warmth and smell of a fire in the wilds under a billion stars is hard to beat, even dehydrated meals taste good out there, dark chocolate and nip of port taste better. Sleep comes easily.



As we head lower down we finally find fish, no monsters but they are thick set tenacious fish, a deep rich bronze colour that only really wild bass get.



The river begins to slow, less steep drops and more running riffles, paddling and fishing are easy and relaxed.



The fishing remains difficult; snags that really should yield fish are not giving them up. We try everything with only minimal success. We all love catching fish but it does not seem to matter as just being on a river like this is enough



Time looses relevance in these places, the flow of the river dictates the pace you go, the day passes slowely; there is a lot to see but little to do. Cast retrieve, drift, cast, paddle, cast, yawn, drift....



So another day passes, not so many fish but it ends with another star filled sky, humorous banter and comparison of dried menu items. There are blokes in the cemetery that would like our problems.

The final stretch to the out point is pretty uneventful, the fish continue to be shy, the river continues to be beautiful and we continue to chill and relax. By the time we reach the car our collective souls are cleansed, the worries of the world are gone and the next half dozen adventures are already being planned.

We only landed 4 bass in 3 days but what I learn from these 'fishing' trips is that fishing is not so important, it's the other stuff that it gives us that is.


Here is a bit of video footage of the whitewater sections of the trip which made for an intresting trip by itself.