Impromptu Fishing

The distance from home to water is never too far in this part of the world and impromptu fishing is a joyous lifestyle benefit of country living. 

My old ute rattled and bumped along the dirt track to the river, the pervasive stink of cow poop wafted in, so familiar yet I had not smelt it since the finish of the bass season on the ugly side of winter. 

I left the Kelpies sleeping in the ute and wondered through the dew laden Kikuyu grass to the river. The sun was well gone but the fading light still hung like a glimmer of hope. 

My koolabung fizzer disappeared into a gentle swirl on its second landing, the rod loaded, I felt the weight and then nothing. At least some bass had moved up from their brackish winter grounds. Predictably, the next cast proved too hard to resist and a fat little 37 cm bass was titled Number One.





The light was gone, stars began to spot the sky, crickets sang their night song and the river trickled a gentle melody. Standing there, a tranquil peace beset me and I lost track of time until a swirl at my feet broke my dreamy state. These bass are not big but they pull hard and leave joy when they swim away.





It's a glorious night, very still and cool. The damp settles and after half an hour of quite fishless casting I am feeling content. I rattle back along the road; within 10 minutes I am sitting on my leather couch by the fire, wine in hand and Kelpies at foot.