Williams River - April 2010

Williams River

Date: Saturday, 17 April 2010

Forecast: Fine; Wind, E to NE @10 to 15kms; Temp, Air 22-26, Water 17; Tide, N/A ; Seas; 30kms away, Moon, Half, Barometer; 1014, steady.

We voted to fish on the Saturday in order to enjoy the early evening surface feeding behaviour of east coast Bass. Not exactly what you’d call a rise unless you consider a submarine launching a Polaris missile a ‘ rise’. Bass don’t sip, they smash. So in order to profit from their lack of table manners it was decided to fish the afternoon & into the evening, at a family friendly time. After the last visit when we were subjected to 70+ km’s of wind the roll up was understandably one of the smallest we’ve seen for a Bass trip for a while. Still, Bob Williams, Roy Browne, Richard Hassell, Rob Harwood, Steve Tizard, Terry Whitter, Jeff Medhurst, Gary Kent & his son David plus yours truly found our way up to Clarence Town ready to defy the elements. Said elements were benign this time. Sunny skies, b-all wind & balmy temperatures. Things were looking good. As my day was the shortest I’ll start with myself. I was late getting away & arrived after everyone else had already launched. That didn’t mean I had the place to myself. The was a jamboree of an aquatic nature held the same weekend & gazillions of Boy & Girl Scouts were at Clarence Town & they all had canoes. Once they were on the water I could’ve walked from one bank to the other such was their multitude. Before I left home Big Bob’s words still rang in my ears; “ If you want to throw big flies use a big rod”. Which was why I took my Jack of all Trades 8/9wt. From Bass to Salmon it has rewarded my faith in it’s purchase. But it wasn’t the rod that let me down it was myself. After making my way to the bridge via a long detour due to a collapsed walk-bridge I waited untill some of the Scouts went upstream while their mates went downstream. “Now’s my chance” I thought & started to flick around the nearest pylon. My day came unstuck when I broke my fly line, the result of a badly applied Dacron loop. I had applied it, now I had to wear it. As everyone was out of sight & also out of mobile range I made the decision to pull the pin. Such is life & fishing. Bob & Brownie had a plan. They would launch at Alison bridge. First however, they decided to look in at the Glen William bridge launching site & found Jeff & Terry already there & ready to rock. B & B wished them luck & continued on their way. They then proceeded to get lost. A lot. Repeatedly. The locals were of zero help apparently. Bob reckoned at no stage was the Alison Bridge more than 2k’s distant, at one time it was only 500 meters away. They started to fear it was a bridge too far. Then a gum tree looked familiar followed by a yokel who didn’t but who actually knew what they ‘wuz talkin’ about‘. They followed his directions & were rewarded. They were so relieved to see water they launched Bob’s canoe without stopping the car. With apologies to Mr Coleridge “Water water everywhere a not a drop to drink, Scouts, Scouts everywhere and how that knot did stink!”. I’m not about to dib dib dib, dob dob dob in the culprit. Lets just say tight lines aren’t reserved for when you’re on the water. Before is good too. Premature canoe ejaculation aside plastic did meet water eventually, unfortunately is was really cold water which meant bad Bass times for all concerned. This pair are experienced to say the least so you can be assured no nook nor Bass bearing cranny was overlooked. Bob told me that the water was at least 2 foot higher than when last he productively fished this length of the river. He swore hand on heart as to how picturesque it was. Alas it was also devoid of the equally picturesque East Coast Bass. The tip? 17 degrees; some fish like it, some don‘t. Just make sure those that do are the ones you’re hunting. Down-stream at Glen William Jeff & Terry were in Kayaks but were having a bit more luck. Jeff has been a fly boy for quite some time while Terry is still a bit green. This meant Jeff gave him the benefit of his long experience while taking a back seat in order to give his mate the best of chances. We all know the quiet joy of helping a good mate to capture his personal milestone species. It can even be better than catching something yourself. So both of them were rewarded when Terry bagged his first Bass on fly, his first fish as a member as well. Welcome aboard Tezza. The not so fat controller* then turned up the wick & added a Mullet to his bag of fish & species that fell to his well placed purple Baited-Breath. While he told me later conditions were perfect, the fishing was far from it. Terry added another Bass to his bag, using a green & white Gurgler but that was it. Meanwhile Jeff floated about, taking photos but no fish apparently. Next on the how far up the river can we go ladder was a couple of fisho’s who were teamed up by fate. Richard had trundled up the highway expecting to fish alone. Not that he’s anti-social, I ain’t that keen on sharing my bath tub with hairy fishermen either; it’s a space thing. Rob was prepared to fish alone as well in order to break new ground as the first CCFR’er to catch a Bass, hell, to catch anything from a Jet Ski. It belongs to his son apparently & long story short he arrived at Clarence Town ready for a ground-breaking fishy battle. Alas he was foiled at the water’s edge by a sign forbidding the use of PWC or Personal Water Craft. He was rescued by a knight not in shining armour but slightly scruffy aluminium instead. Richard & Rob decided to push upstream & went as far as they could, their way barred by rocks & weed. Once there they drifted downstream, flicking here & there. They finally found some playmates in the form of Herring. Rob was delighted with the sport they provided on light line. He liked it so much he caught another but only the first was his first, Herring on fly that is. Richard caught one as well but as it wasn’t his first I wont mention it. What, I already did? Doh! Steve Tizard used his “Inspector Gadget” vessel, otherwise known as a ‘Portaboat’. Maybe he should have used an Inspector Gadget rod as well. Then he could have caught some gadget fish. As it was some non gadget fish were interested in his surface fly & slashed at it but slashes aint catches. The one gizmo he found really useful was his ‘lecky’ motor. His outboard gave up the ghost but he was able to purr his way back to camp in an environmentally friendly manner. As it turned out he lost round one, not having boated anything, but tomorrow would be another day. Last rung on the river ladder was Gary Kent & his son David. Gary took his boy in order to share a bit of quality time while handing down some fatherly advice regarding the gentle art of the fly. Gary must have done a good job as David bagged a couple Bass on a day where some genuine guns came up dry. Things got even better when the light dimmed at dusk & surface flies proved irresistible. They ended up with 7 fish in the boat, by far the best effort on the day. This is why all children should listen to their fathers, we really do know what is best. While the rest retrieved their dripping hulls & faded into the darkness Steve turned in for a lonely night, surrounded by wall to wall woggles & Koombiyahs. Brave soul. He woke the next day ready to do battle again with renewed vigour & resolve. Unfortunately those basstardly Bass didn’t play the game & he returned to the coast empty handed. Not so the last of our ‘cast’ of anglers. Mac Lyall might have got the day wrong but not his choice of locale. Mac fished lower down the river than anyone, within sight of the bridge. He used a ‘surface fly’ [ now now Mac, you’ll have to tell us more next meeting] to fool several fish. He lost 2 but boated the same number, one at 26cm, the other the best of the weekend at 33cm. This was a funny kind of weekend for us as it was a haphazard & scattered affair, with the club launching in drips & drabs and with no real rally point. The club Barbie was missing which meant there was also a chance missed to share in our club spirit, at it’s best when we join together, regardless of our fishing success. * Terry is in the Train game.