The builders mate

At the moment my time is filled with trying to finish building the first section of my house before Christmas, fishing has sadly taken a back seat to owner building. A phone call and offer from my good mate Tim to give me a few days labouring if I took him fishing was exactly the deal I needed to get a pass.

Good to his word Tim turned up and got on the tools with me for a few days, it was a great help and we got heaps done. A deal is a deal so I was 'obliged' to hold up my side of the deal, backpacks were packed, Alpacka rafts thrown in and we were off for a few days fishing with my other mate Peter in tow.

Tim seldom gets away fishing so he was pretty happy to get a new species with his first ever EP. He managed a few more over the evening on poppers, nothing too big but he was pretty happy with the surface hits and spirited tussle of the little EP’s.

It was only a matter of time until a bream found his popper and kissed it off the top, once again he was very happy as it was a PB bream on lure for him and his first off the surface.


Not to be outdone Peter got in on the surface action and landed a nice bream from amongst the small EP’s. 

Things pretty much shut down on top with a large moon rising and lighting up the estuary so we retired for a feed around the campfire. A few hours chatting and joking and we hit our tents only to be woken by thunder and torrential rain an hour later. The rain lasted right through the night and first light saw it still bucketing down. Tim was up and off to fish the flats though despite the appalling conditions. By the time I dragged myself out, Tim had landed a few silver trevally, a few whiting, a squire and a few more bream. Seemed the fish didn’t care about getting wet, nor did Tim, he was having a ball.



We fished on for a while , got a few more whiting, but it was starting to get quite cold and we were all soaked through so decided to walk out early and head home. 

I managed to sneak in a quick Bass session with him before he went home , he only managed one rat bass but as usually was pretty stoked with it 


The weather and the fishing disappointed me but Tim claimed it to have been his best ever estuary trip and he could not wait to visit again and help me with the building if I’d take him fishing again, what a great mate to have !! 

Scoffed.

These lures obviously rang the dinner bell,  scoffed!!

A few 40's

The bass season is proving to be a good one thus far,  many of the bass I am getting at the moment are in the magic 40 Plus size range.  I have been smoked by several XXXL bass which has promted a switch to 4 kg line and a heavier than usual drag,  I am thinking it is only a matter of time before I crack 50 for this season.  In the  mean time enjoy these recent fit bass. 

Cow turds and 40 cm bass

Fishing at night in dairy country has one major downside - cow turds are hard to see in the dark. 

The tell-tale slide of my boot was all I needed to know that I had been ‘cow turded’, the stink had me thinking it was a bad omen and I should probably just go home and forget about bass.

The first three casts I put across the deep dark pool drew a blank, not good. I was a more than a little disturbed by the odour of digested Kikuyu that was rising from my left boot. Fourth cast got monstered and for a few seconds the rod loaded and drag sang a little song of protest, it was too brief, the bass was gone and the smell of cow poo returned. 

A few casts later the smell disappeared about the time my fizzer was again monstered, this time the hooks found their mark and the little Stradic sang its song of protest again. The song played out and a strong low 40's bass was lifted for a photo. Strangely I could no longer smell cow poo.

It was only a few casts later that the fizzer was again eaten and my drag got to preform once more. Another low 40's bass and the air was smelling very fresh.

A good ten minutes passed without much action and I had begun thinking about the downside of night fishing when a fit 34cm bass distracted my sense of smell. Sadly that was the last bass for the evening and the smell was making a comeback, wafting its bovine stench once more. Time to head for home and hose my boots.

Looong Weekend

I never realised that the "Long" in Long weekend related to slow fishing but that is exactly what we got on the far south coast. We had plans of greatness but a week out the weather looked bad and our plans where rationalised. 

Jeff and I fished a two sessions, joined by my mate Gus for the morning session.

The predicted bad weather went to other way and produced perfect fishing conditions for us, calm with light cloud/fog cover and a barometer rising to 1024…no one told the fish that it was good conditions and they should have been on the chew.

For a total of about 7 hours solid fishing we only managed to raise 4 bass, gently fished deep Bettspins accounting for 3 and a cicada fizzer the last. 

The fish hit hard and fought well for their size but we just struggled to find them, I guess that is just fishing sometimes, perhaps we are spoilt and have become acustomed to always catching bass.

Some times the bass just don’t play even when they should, that is when we make noises about how great it is to be on a beautiful river with good mates and how it is better than working…..I would have still liked a few more fish.

First 40

The wind was blowing, the temperature was struggling to get past 15 degrees and misty rain spats fell most of the day. Looking out the window one could be forgiven for thinking that bass fishing on such a day would be a waste of time.

Peter and I had planned to walk in and fish a more remote section of a nice little freestone creek but the weather threw doubt on our plan. As we drove, a plan B switch saw us on some 'easier' water drifting in misty rain, casting at structure.

DespIte the less than ideal conditions it was pleasant to be on the water, the bellbirds piping, platypus drifting lazily, us casting and retrieving small surface lures. A good 45 minutes passed before I got my first fish, a wild and dark little bass. 

A few missed hits followed before I got my second, a slightly better fish that pulled well beyond its size. It was pretty much dark by this stage, and under the cover of darkness the bass seemed to switch on briefly. Peter landed 3 low to mid 30's in quick succession. The drizzle was getting heavy and the cold air was sinking onto the river. Peter had taken his Alpacka out and was making his way up the hill to the car as I shot out my last cast, Boof and miss... bloop bloop bloop pause, nothing... I continued to bloop and pause my lure back for another 20 feet and was thinking of a hot shower and dinner when another big boof saw me connected to my first 40 of the season. 

Some days you just luck it.

Therapy Works

I have been very busy and in desperate need of a relaxing fish for the last week or so. Monday and Tuesday looked to be the best days of this month for an EP session with the tide hitting bottom an hour or so after dark. 


I planned my very busy working days around being on the water by 6pm and the plan went well. Sadly though, nature conspired against me and both days got completely blown out - strong winds and finesse surface fishing are not happy bedfellows. 


By Wednesday night the low tide was into the evening and less than ideal, still the possibility was there and I needed it. My felling was that the EP's would soon begin their dispersal up and through the system, a change of approach would be needed to catch them in numbers then.


In the afterglow of sunset a few boils indicated the EPs to be on the chew, within a few casts my lure was attended to, a small EP was landed, photographed, then sent on it's merry way. 


This process occurred a few more times over the next hour or so before things slowed and the boofs became too far apart to hold my attention. The clear star filled sky; sounds of the night birds and distant break lulled me into a relaxed and contented state. I found I was no longer desperate to catch another EP, I was pretty happy, therapy works.