The Prince of Pejar - October 2013

October 2013

A sight to behold was the Prince of Pejar. Clad in the ceremonial finery of his ancient religion he strode triumphantly into the room of his most cherished peers and declared:

"the day is mine, and you's can all go get ######!"

Well, so much for a dignified and humble end to the day's fishing. Although the rest of us were certainly humbled after our first evening at Pejar. With widespread caddis fly activity and fish clearly rising we at first thought it would be simply a matter of time before we all landed fish. How wrong we were. Even our Pommy trout experts were left fishless and wondering what was going on.

Only one stood out. The Prince of Pejar. With a silvering mane and copper whiskers The Prince cast out his chosen fly only to tuck his rod under his arm, remove a fly box from his pocket and casually peruse its contents. Selecting a fly and placing it between his teeth he then proceeded to strip his line in. One, two, three strips and the electric shock of a big angry fish on the end of his line startled The Prince, almost causing him to swallow the fly in his mouth. The fish tried every trick in the book to rid itself of the unwanted meal, but The Prince had his measure and a 3lb silver torpedo was soon laying on the grassy bank beside him. With a religious zeal not seen since the Inquisition the fish was dispatched and The Prince returned from the hunt victoriously displaying his vanquished quarry.

Well that's the romanticised version of the story. The version told was quite simply unrepeatable and certainly unprintable.

Most of us arrived at Gundowringa homestead late on Friday afternoon. I had hitched a ride with Col Breese and after picking up John Robb at Tascott we dodged the bushfires and road closures on the Hume Motorway (now memorably rebadged the M31), made our way up the Crookwell Road and onto the property of Jeff Prell – 5000 acres of rolling green hills with the Wollondilly running through it. The Prells have been in this area since 1901, running Corriedale sheep for over 100 years with their skills in sheep farming proudly displayed on the walls of the shearers’ quarters – our new home for the next few days. Jeff came down to meet us soon after we arrived. A quietly spoken chap he was keen for us to fish his dams and shared his many years of fly fishing experience and extensive historical knowledge of the local area.

Steve Tizard and I decided to head over to Pejar Dam to take a closer look at the inviting view we had passed on the way up to Gundowringa. There were plenty of tracks around the western lake shore so we explored the small bays and rocky points at the top end where the Wollondilly flowed in, finally deciding to fish a small bay around 6pm.

The conditions were perfect. The wind dropped and a caddis fly hatch was in full swing so we rigged up and waited for the rises to start. After half an hour of no surface fish activity at all and the sun setting I changed to a Bushy’s Horror to see if I could elicit a response, but by 8pm we had seen no fish whatsoever and decided to head back for a late dinner.

Back at the shearer’s quarters most of us had assembled for dinner. Stories of no fish abounded, the only difference being that at Jeff’s two farm dams there were plenty of rises to the same caddis fly hatch we had experienced. Then Sticker strode in. It was obvious that he had caught a fish and proudly presented a solid rainbow of around 2lb. No doubt we would soon hear of his experience and sure enough we were given a blow by blow account of the fish he caught AND the one he dropped while trying to send everyone a photo of the specimen he had just landed..

We had an enjoyable evening around the fire swapping stories and having a laugh before retiring to bed around midnight.

Those of us keen were up at 5am the next morning, and after a quick cuppa headed down to the farm dams to even up our tallies with Sticker’s. A cold calm morning looked perfect and we tried a range of flies on both lakes. A few fish were spotted rising, I even watched a large snout stick a couple of inches out of the water to take something on the surface. Changing to a beetle pattern I spent the next hour drifting my fly across the smaller dam without any response but by about 9 the breeze had picked up and we headed back for a coffee and morning tea.

Regrouping back at the shearer's quarters I teamed up with Dave, Sticker and Bunney and we headed down to Goulburn in search of redfin, a species many of us hadn't yet caught. We found Scott Chaney at Marsden Weir casting to some Koi Carp below the weir wall but conditions looked pretty average and while Sticker, Bunney and Scott tried further downstream on the Wollondilly, Dave and I headed into town for lunch before catching up with them on the river west of Goulburn. We then followed the Wollondilly westward up through Pomeroy. At every river crossing the water looked very poor with little or no flow. Eventually we headed back via Gouldburn to Gundowringa to prepare for the evening rise.

Reports back at the shearer's quarters were still of no fish caught and widespread poor conditions on the Wollondilly. Our only hope seemed to be this evening's rise on the farm dams. So we all headed down around 5pm and lined up around the dam's margins. Initially I tried a streamer on an intermediate line, hoping to get down to the bottom of the dam and emulate Sticker's success, but as the sun sank in the west and a few rises began to appear I changed to a midge pupa below a midge ball indicator in the hope that one of the two would induce a take. Still nothing and worse still the rises had ceased. Only David had any success with a take on his nymph but he failed to hook up and we heard his disappointment across the water. 

Time for another fly change as we were treated to a magnificent red sunset. In the dark I could see a few rises in the dam just near the cars, so I tied on a Craig's Nighttime and prospected around the bay. Surely a fish would at least have a go at my fly and sure enough the line went tight. I gave it a couple of seconds and lifted but there was no weight on the end of my line and the fly shot out of the water. It was looking like I had blown my one and only chance.

By now it was dark and everyone else looked like they were heading back to the cars. I reeled in my line and headed back to David's car and recounted my recent experience. David was happy to continue fishing and he, Richard and I fished the bay for a while longer. David too was met with frustration as a fish took his Craigs and he failed to hook up, and as the time was heading towards 8.30 we decided to call it a night and head back for a BBQ.

Another enjoyable evening around the fire, but this time there was no talk of an early rise. Most of us considered ourselves beaten and headed to bed with thoughts of a bit of a sleep in.

As it turned out, only Richard was keen enough to try again in the morning. Steve Tizard and I took a look at the hundred year old homestead and shearing shed before partaking of the club BBQ breakfast generously cooked by The Prince. 

Richard returned fishless and soon everyone was packed, ready to head back to civilsation. There wasn't even much talk of some exploratory fishing on the way home, though Col, Rob and I took an enjoyable detour up through Canyonleigh to inspect the Wollondilly further upstream. We saw some nice stretches of water, but every crossing of the river showed little or no flow and we soon rejoined the motorway and made our way home.

Despite the conditions everyone had a very enjoyable trip. The accommodation was very comfortable and company great as always. Whether we head back next year will probably depend on rain and river levels. Even considering that, I'm sure it won't be the last time the club stays at Gundowringa. Our thanks fro Murray for organising the trip - a great job as always. And to Jeff Prell for a great base camp and generous advice.