On The Beach - January 2005

On The Beach

Date: January 2005

A very rainy morning greeted us as we headed north to the meeting place at 5am. But as we arrived at The Entrance we noticed the rain had not reached this far north and we were optimistic about the morning's fishing. With the attendance book signed and everyone in tow (apart from Bob who had gone ahead to check the carpark gate was open) we drove the extra 10km or so up to the carpark turnoff where Rob and I turned in and everyone continued on. Dave soon realised they had missed the turnoff and led everyone back down to find us. We also found Bob was not where he should be (ie. the carpark we were now sitting in) and a quick phone call revealed he had driven up to the Soldiers Beach SLSC and was waiting there with Garry Kent. Both soon joined us and we all on our way over the dunes to the beach. A few drops of rain and an easterly breeze greeted us on the beach and the surf conditions looked pretty good. Steve and Matty immediately headed up towards Pelican Point, lugging the esky and gas stove between them while the rest of us started to rig up where we were. Jimmy was first in the water and he was soon hauling in a small dart. This looked promising, so we all spread out along the beach and started wetting our lines. It wasn't long before our illustrious president was onto a good fish which was putting a decent bend in his rod. The fish seemed to be giving him a bit of trouble and we speculated it was a ray the way it pulled on each wash out. Eventually the fish was beached - it was a very nice flathead going a touch under 60cm. We continued to fish this part of the beach but the rip and the rising breeze were making it increasingly difficult so we all decided to move up the beach towards the point where hopefully the current would be easier to fish and the others had been having more success. Most of us had the 800m covered in a short time and were soon fishing the northern corner of the beach. Matty, Steve, Bob and Garry were all fishing off the rocks while the rest of us spaced out along the beach. The current was definitely more friendly here and our lines spent more time in the water than the around our feet on the sand. As we fished we watched the storms and rain to the south slowly edge their way towards us. Thunder could be heard as we walked up the beach and now the once clear view we had of The Entrance was replaced by a curtain of rain which appeared to be slowly sweeping north. Bob Beamish had already decided the smarter move was to head for the vehicles but the rest of us decided to press on regardless. Soon his decision didn't look so premature. The ocean to the east had disappeared in a grey mist of heavy rain and we were now looking at very impressive (and very dangerous) lightning strikes between ourselves and The Entrance. We downed our 9 foot lightning conductors and waited for the storm to arrive. It wasn't long before cold rain was stinging our faces and lightning and thunder were overhead. A few sought some shelter in the dunes behind the beach while the rest stood out with the gear. Either way we were all soaked through within the first minute or two and it was decided to make an undignified retreat to the cars and find somewhere to have our much anticipated bacon and egg breakfast. By the time we reached the carpark the rain had eased but thunder could still be heard. We were all soon packed up and heading back south to The Entrance for breakfast, and the park near The Entrance Bridge provided an ideal location. With the help of a sheet of black plastic from Jimmy the cookers were set up and the smell of freshly cooked bacon, eggs and toast wafted from the shelter. The rain held off while we ate and a very enjoyable meal was had while entertainment was supplied by Browny. By 8am we had cleaned out the bacon and 2 dozen eggs and it was time to go. Bob had already departed, back off to start a day's work while the rest of us headed home to dry off and clean the sand from our reels. Another enjoyable club trip even though the conditions weren't great and the fish forthcoming. The company was excellent as usual and thank god for bacon and egg sandwiches.

Patonga - December 2004

Patonga Pelagic Chase

Date: December 2004

How quick has the year gone, we are back chasing the pelagics that start hitting us about this time of year. Plan was to put in at Patonga ramp at 05:30 and head off in search of some action. Just about everyone arrived on or close to time and I have to say that for a CCFR outing conditions were amazing. Small swell light easterly winds and a little bit of cloud cover. We all hit the water and headed for Box Head as that was the last confirmed report of an Aussie Salmon school in the last week. We got there and searched around for 15 minutes or so without a sight or anything on the sounder. Bob, Hamish, Wilbur and I headed out of the heads and up towards some of the bombies in search of both surface action and hopefully some kingfish. We got to one bombie and saw a swirl near the surface and started casting the 12 weight amongst the debris that was floating around s a result of the rains we had during the previous week. We put ina quite a few casts over about 15 – 20 minutes and not even a look. Wilbur and I headed back towards Barrenjoey in search of some salmon. Bob and Hamish persevered at the bombie and eventually scored a 40cm king before heading back into the Bay. Wilbur and I didn’t see any surface action and we caught up with Brownie and Dan who had been blind casting around the headlands for a zero result. We headed into Pittwater and saw some huge schools of baitfish, but nothing at all harassing them and nothing on the sounder underneath them. Moved towards Scotland Island and around the yachts and started blind casting, again for zero result. It’s getting desperate! We headed out with the intention of hitting Cowan Creek next and got down to the mouth of the creek and saw some bird activity and a lot of birds sitting on the surface. A few quick casts soon had me connected to a chopper tailor and this was repeated several times over the next hour or so, with both Wilbur and I getting connected. A number of calls to the other guys telling them that we had found some fish and to come and have a go at them, which they did. And in the end just about everyone on the day got fish. Hamish and Bob berleyed up some yakkas, sweep and bream. Back to the ramp and the usual post fishing lunch, only this time it was fish and chips as a sort of a Christmas celebration. A great day that although the fish weren’t huge, was still a heap of fun for everyone who came a long.

St Clair - November 2004

Lake St Clair

Date: November 2004

With winds gusting to 30 knots we figured we were pushing the proverbial droppings uphill, but what the heck, we had nothing else planned this weekend, and a night in a tent was always going to be an attractive proposition when you have a 2 year old waking you up most nights back home. So we headed off, northward-bound, with boat in tow. The weather improved as we threaded our way north. The winds now gusted to only 29 knots and my old Toyota even managed to get into fifth gear a few times on the Freeway. We soon left the suburbs of Singleton behind and it wasn’t long before the windy shores of Lake St Clair appeared as we wound our way along the shoreline. Ken had already found his way to the camp ground half way up the eastern side of the lake. He was huddled in his Landcruiser, the pressure of the wind on the vehicle door keeping him a virtual prisoner in his own car. We soon liberated him from the cab, and as we watched a dozen or so tents collapse on the top of the hill we decided a camp site in the lee of the hill was a logical choice for the evening. With tents pitched and cleansing ale consumed it was decided an evening fish was in order. We had already banned Ken from fishing with his spin gear, and threats of sticking it in places that would have him walking funny for weeks seemed to keep it enforced. The manager of the camp ground had given instructions of where to fish – “over the hill and near the rocky outcrop – a bloke caught some good fish there last night”. It’s always last night, or yesterday, or last week, or tomorrow. Never today. And that’s the way it stayed. We cast fly after fly. Ken even tried to knock himself out, but to no avail. Whether there were fish there or not is still unknown. If they were, they didn’t like us, or our flies. Back at camp we rewarded ourselves with a hearty BBQ dinner and a few drinks. By 8.30 Ken and Daniel had had enough and headed for their beds. Eight thirty. Not even my daughter goes to bed at eight thirty. Oh well, a bit of light reading (I managed to find my insurance policy and a caravan park guide in my glovebox) and I was soon ready for a good night’s sleep. Before even the sparrows had risen and relieved themselves of unwanted gas, we were up and packed. To our undying amazement Big Bob passed our camp on his way to the boat ramp, and we soon joined him and Dave at the boat ramp. Bob had conned Anne into coming along while Dave was joined by Wilbur and they had bought Matty along to act as decky for Ken. The wind had dropped a little from yesterday. At least there were no white caps on the lake. So we headed off in search of sheltered waters and lots of bass. Bob had the same idea (either that or he was following us) and we both ended up in a small cove filled with plenty of drowned trees. Perfect bass country we thought to ourselves. It’s just a shame that the bass didn’t agree. After an hour or so we decided we’d try up the river. A few spin fishers has gone up that way before us but we tried a few weed beds and likely looking deep water. Again our results were less than impressive. Not even a hit. No sign of any fish. Didn’t even see the spin guys hook up. Time for a change of scenery. We headed back downstream towards the lake, and having spotted Bob and Anne (who, hunched over in the middle of Bob’s boat looking between Bob’s legs, looked like they were up to no good) decided to pay them a visit. And were we glad we did. With a small gas stove carefully positioned between Bob’s legs, a breakfast of singed bread and hot coffee was had, and rejuvinated, we were ready to get into those wiley bass. Continuing our journey back down the lake, we headed up another arm to try again. Cast after cast around dead timber and along deep drop-offs produced nil results. But an interesting pattern was appearing where ever we went. At most places over which we drifted the sounder showed fish holding at five metres. There must have been a thermocline at that depth and the fish were sitting on it. Not that it helped much. We threw bass vampires, clousers, charlies, bunnies, things that had no name, and a new 56-legged fly I had found in a recent Fly Tyer magazine (gauranteed to catch bass). All were useless. We even toyed with the idea of explosives, except we had none. By 11:30 we decided we’d done our bit for the day. There wasn’t a fly in the box we hadn’t tried. And that BBQ lunch was looking awfully good. So we headed back to the ramp. By now the wind was up again and a few white caps had appeared, but the trip back was relatively dry. Ken was already there with stories of Matty’s two fish, and we were all soon back on dry land ready for a hearty lunch. Unfortunately though, the caterers were missing. Apparently Bob, upon hearing that Matt had caught two fish (one on his first cast), had gone berserk and vowed not to return without a fish. He was last seen huddled over at the bow of his boat, electric motor control under foot, a wild look in his eye, casting furiously at anything and everything. We packed up and sat back, enjoying the sunshine and not enjoying the wind. Eventually a tiny flat-bottomed punt appeared in the distance. It was Bob, returning jubilant like a conquerer back from a crusade, a tiny bass his trophy. Finally we could have lunch. With a hearty sausage sandwich or three under our belts and stories of our successes or lack thereof, we were soon on our way back to civilisation. By mid afternoon I had delivered Daniel to his waiting wife-to-be and I was back home looking forward to another sleepless night. And apparently the fishing was sensational the next day. We should have been there.

Hawkesbury River - August 2004

Hawkesbury River EP

Date: August 2004

The CCFR’s first ever trip to target Estuary Perch was to take place on the Hawkesbury River above Wiseman’s Ferry. The weather was looking good with a forecast top of 25 degrees and light winds. We all met at Kariong at the designated time and signed the outing register before heading off down Wiseman’s Ferry Road. Once across the river courtesy of the ferry we pulled into the boat ramp and started launching the boats. Each boat took off to do their own thing and search out some EPs. Ken, Matt, Wilbur and I headed up towards the Colo River and started fishing. Wilbur and I sounded up some fish on the edge of a huge rock face that led into deeper water. On with the flies and out with the fast sink lines to get us down the 60 feet as quick as possible. We drifted and cast for quite some time in the quiet conditions and thought what a top spot. Great scenery and serenity, until…. A ski boat traveling at speed went past us and woke us up out of our day dream. About 10 minutes later a boat came up to us to tell us that a race was about to start with 30 ski boats traveling a 15km course at speeds of over 100mph. Bugger… that doesn’t sound too conducive to fishing now does it. To make matters even worse there was a 4 knot speed limit on the river whilst the race was on and we were confined to one side of the river. Big Bob dawdled his way up to us to share with us the good news that he had already landed 3 EPs down near the houseboats and was coming up to catch the fish we ere targeting… luckily for him he didn’t actually manage to do so. We all decided to go and look at the mouth of the Colo as there had been reports of some good bass and EPs coming from there during the week. We did our 4knots for what seemed like forever and finally reached the Colo. Had a few casts up there for no result and decided to continue up the river, away from the ski race towards Dargle. I spotted a really nice looking eddie and stopped to suss it out on the sounder. It was 70 feet deep and had fish galore holding fairly deep. We had a few casts and actually got a couple of hits. Hamish was working the shoreline near the eddie and also got hit but no hookups. Time was going fast and we had to get back to start the BBQ for lunch. Unfortunatley it was going to be slow due to the ski race and it’s aftermath as well as the chop from the wind that was starting to pick up. When we finally arrived at the ramp at 13:30 most of the others had departed and left Chris there. We loaded the boats back on the trailers and decided to give lunch a miss. We headed back onto the ferry and hit Wisemans Ferry Road for the trip home, a lot wiser about the place and determined to find somewhere that we could find out when the ski races were on, which I have since found so next time we shouldn’t get caught out.

Lake Liddell - July 2004

Lake Liddell

Date: July 2004

This outing was postponed from one weekend to the next due to the weather. The Friday before we were to go it looked rather promising for the Sunday with light winds forecast and a top nudging the early twenties. Ripper we all thought. The plan was to meet at the MacDonalds at Singleton at about 6:30 – 7. As is custom with a few CCFR members, we were “fashionably” late and arrived at the Maccas at 07:30, grabbed a quick feed and watched Hamish warm his crotch with the boiling water for his tea…. Off to a good start there! The light winds we were expecting were far from light and were actually quite gusty. Not to be put off we proceeded to make our way up the New England Highway to Lake Liddell ready to do battle with some carp. As we past the lake it was looking a bit windswept and as we started to launch the boats the rain started. Top in the twenties I don’t think and in fact if it was any colder the rain would have been white powdery stuff. Hamish, Jerryn and I took off around a corner in an attempt to get a spot out of the wind. We found a spot that was less windswept than the rest of the lake and jumped out of the boat to see if we could sight any fish to cast at. Suffice to say it was a pleasant and muddy walk up the bank and back, and good exercise which we needed to keep warm! Plan B…. Find the others and see how they are going. We rounded the corner and across the main basin and saw Bob and Ken in the distance. We dropped the electric in and tried to spot fish in the shallows as we drifted wit the wind. The fish had the ability to spot us well before we saw them and about as close as we got was seeing the mud stirred up off the bottom. We head the joyous cries of Matt across the lake and saw he was connected to a fish. We carried on for what seemed like 10 minutes and Matt was still playing the fish. We motored over to see the fish that he had managed and it was a 15lb beauty. We stayed fish the same area where a creek was runn9ing into the lake and saw a carp teasing us right up in the shallows, cruising with it’s back out of the water. No more fish or hits in that area we decided to move on. Ken and Matt decided to move up into the shallows to give Ken a shot at that carp with the dry back! We went looking for somewhere out of the wind and found Bob who had just played out a smallish carp and tried to fish the same area as at least you could see the bottom (sometimes). Nothing doing after about 40 minutes we pulled the plug as the rain started gett8ing heavier and more consistent. We headed back to the ramp across the lake that now had whitecaps on it and pulled the boat back onto the trailer. Big Bob had already exited the lake and was busily setting up the BBQ for lunch. Ken and Matt weren’t far behind us and Ken had that dry backed carp in a net so we could get a snapshot of it. Another huge fish over 11 pounds and his first carp on fly. Whilst the conditions were – ah – shit, we still persevered and at least there were some decent fish landed. Lunch was great thanks to Bob and Anne and the drive home was full of great conversation.

Off The Rocks - June 2004

Off The Rocks

Date: June 2004

It was bloody cold when I got to the meeting place at Avoca ready for this outing. The sun was just starting to come up and the sky looked fantastic with it various shades of red and blue. The forecast was for howling westerly winds, but the spot we were to fish was reasonable well protected by it’s huge cliffs. The usual wait for the folks to turn up (isn’t it always the same people?) saw us depart the meeting place about 30 minutes later than planned, but it didn’t really matter that much as the fish didn’t know what time we were starting. We drove to the dirt track that lead down to the fishing spot and followed the track to the parking spot. Unloaded the vehicles and started making our way to the rocks to fish. We split up into smaller groups and looked for promising looking ledges and holes to throw our berley and our bread flies into in the hope of connecting with the biggest brute of the rocks… the drummer. I teamed up with Wilbur and Chris “the pig virgin” Bannerman and found a spot that had a deep channel running out from a reasonably flat rock. The hardest part was actually getting onto the flat rock with all the gear as there was a gap of about 2 -3 feet that you had to jump to get onto the rock. We all managed to do so without drama and proceeded to throw hand fulls of bread into the swirling whitewater to tempt the fish out of their lairs. Straight away Wilbur and I started getting hits but were unable to connect with the creature that was teasing us. It wasn’t too long before our first cale was hauled up onto the rocks and dispatched to the depths again. Wilbur hooked onto what looked like a decent drummer only to get well and truly reefed by the fish. That’ll happen when you are trying to pull the fish off the rocks and between boulders. Next up… The virgin himself yelled “I’m on” and his 10 weight buckled as he literally skull dragged the fish up out of the depths. I grabbed the landing net and guided Chris as to where to play the fish for an easier landing. The fish came awfully close the barnacle encrusted rocks a couple of time, but in the end the virgin was no more…. Chris had landed a beautiful drummer. The usual photo shoot ensued and you couldn’t wipe the smile of Chris’ face. We landed a few more fish including sweep and Chris’ luderick before the wind and the waves drove us off our little rock platform. Matt had asked Wilbur to come and photograph a bream that he had caught. It was an absolute thumper going 39cm to the fork and a good effort off the rocks given the structure it had to aim at in an attempt to gain freedom. We moved around the rock a little further to get out of the wind and joined up with Brownie and Hamish. It wasn’t long before Hamish’s usual woohoo could be heard as he hooked into another reasonable drummer, which was landed and released in record time. There was even a Port Jackson shark doing the rounds, but none of us could get him to take a fly…. And what would you do with it if you did? Anyway and good morning was had by all with quite a few fish hauled up onto the rocks, and it was time for lunch. Steve Tizard had organized a beautiful barbeque with sausage sandwiches laid on. We all enjoyed a few before we packed up and called it a day. Another great outing, great company and excellent tucker. Thanks to all that made the day so good.

Brisbane Waters - May 2004

Brisbane Waters

Date: May 2004

It had been quite a few months since we last fished Brisbane Water on one of our outings so we thought we would get a few folks interested in attending. In the end we ended up with 13 starters at the boat ramp at Woy Woy. 6am saw us all launching boats and heading off into the early morning light in search of some piscatorial sport. I teamed up with Big Bob as for once we had more boats that we needed on the day. Bob and I started our sojourn around the racks near Paddy’s Channel, unfortunately the wind and the weed made it very difficult and we decided to try down near the Rip Bridge out of the wind. The plan was to anchor up and start a berley trail as one never knows what might be persuaded into the trail and potentially onto our flies. When we got to the bridge we noticed millions of small baitfish swimming in the shallows, but there was no sign of anything chasing them, so we threw the anchors and started with out plan. As is always the case the tide took the berley away from us faster than we anticipated and we could see fish coming up and hitting the floating bread well out of casting distance. We persevered for a little while and then decided to move closer to the bridge where the fish were hitting the surface…and this we did. O.k…. guess what happened…. We threw out more berley and the fish were nowhere to be seen. The water was extremely clear and I guess we must have spooked them. Anyway suffice to say that we soon gave that plan away and moved around to the back of St Huberts and tried some of the leases there. It was tough going with the water clarity giving the fish too much opportunity to scarper before we could even get a cast at them. The fish were there just damned hard to catch. A call from Chris Bannerman, who said they were having the same result up in Woy Woy Bay, and Bob and I headed up into Narara Creek where we hoped the water would be a bit murkier. It was, but not by much and we could see the berley on the bottom at 7 ft. We kept at it for a while and I managed a small tailor on one of my new flashy clousers (which I later donated to the bridge!) and then got a butterfish on a bread fly cast into the trail. It was getting close to BBQ time so Bob decided to start casting along the edges on our way back down the creek, hoping we’d pick up a bream or lizard waiting to ambush whatever passed by their noses. Not a touch to be had so we hauled our sorry backsides back to the ramp to meet the others for lunch. We got to the ramp at 11:30 and no-one else was back so a few calls to the others found Brownie out of breath and swearing after being bitten off by a good tailor. I wasn’t going to expect him back any time soon as there was a chance of more tailor being close by. Bob and I snuck around the corner and tried one more go at the racks whilst the others proceeded back to the ramp. A couple of shy hits and no fish meant we were back at the ramp at 12 and ready to start lunch. The story was much the same for everyone with the best fish of the day being a good bream caught by Matt. Lucky the sausage sandwiches were there or we’d have been pretty disheartened. Still that what keeps us coming back…… the challenge.