Movember Bass

The 5 pm phone call was the indicator that Peter’s wife was away with work and he was keen for a fish. He picked me up at 6.30 and by 7 we had the boats blown up and sitting on the bank of a new section river that we had been scoping for some time.



It was certainly a gorgeous bit of water, strewn with structure and over hangs. In the bottom of a steep bit of country it was well protected from the wind to the point that it reflected the Casuarina clad hills that guarded this bass fishermans dream.



We wasted no time getting onto the water, Peter headed down and I up. I was casting well, firing my Cicada fizzer tight to the structure and up the back of deep overhangs. It seems a good recruitment year has refreshed the rivers population of juvenile bass and they all came out to play. I am very happy to see the river has bounced back after so many bad years when I doubted its ability to ever recover.



A perfect cast to a tight corner drew a large boil and I came up tight to a good fish finally, it was a brief encounter and I came second, the bass earned its freedom burying me into a tangle of branches.



Chuckles and splashes from downstream indicated that Peter was also being plagued by the youthfully exuberant mini bass.



I fished my way along the pool fringe with a steady rhythm, the fishing was kind of slow but I was content to drift quietly and watch the platypus and birds in such a beautiful place.



As the sun set and the moon rose, it cooled and the fishing slowed to single half hearted boils here and there.



In the diminishing light we made our way up the river a little, more to explore than to fish but Peter still managed a sleek wild bass of a touch under 35.



Shortly after and with a switch of lure I finally landed a 'respectable' fish also, holding off a technical skunking.



The fishing had been slow, perhaps it was our dodgy Movember Mo's that put the bass off, but as always it was a joy to be on the water.