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.

Nepean River - March 2004

Nepean River

Date: March 2004

After discussions with Brownie and reports from Dean Hayes it was decided to launch at Pittown and fish below the weed that was choking the Nepean River further upstream. We left the Central Coast at an ungodly hour that wasn't even worth remembering - or was it that I was still asleep - and travelled through the outskirts of Sydney, crossing the Nepean at Windsor then following it north through Pittown to the car ferry further north. It was still dark as we arrived and it was not until then that I realised the the keys to the padlock that chained my boat to the trailer were sitting safely at home so I wouldn't lose them. After posing for some photos with the aforementioned padlock we left it to our local expert to break the padlock thus allowing us to launch and proceed with the day's antics. Thanks Nick for the great pictures even though I accidently dropped your new digital camera in the water. I'm sure they would have come out fine. And thanks to Daniel, who's skills as a ... er ... locksmith, managed to save us the trip home to get the keys and further smart remarks at our intelligence. Having lauched with no further disasters we headed a short distance downstream to some fishy looking snags and banks to start our day. While I rigged up I maneuvered Ivan in towards a large tree that had fallen and on his first cast landed a very nice bass on a gurgler. A quick pic and back in the drink before we moved along fishing any likely looking structure. Working our way downstream for most of the morning produced nothing to write home about. A few more fish were caught, but as the sun rose higher the fishing got quieter and by late morning Ivan and I had anchored over a drop-off on a bend and were trying to fish it deep. The sounder showed fish holding at depth but we couldn't convice any to come up and take our flies, and the intermediate lines we had were not getting down deep enough. By now the others had joined us and were also trying to get down deep but soon we had all had enough and decided to head back. The morning was now very warm and sunny and even though we hadn't caught many fish it was still a pleasant time on the river. Crossing the bridge at Windsor on the way home illustrated how useless it would have been to fish this far up - the surface of the river was almost completely covered in weed and unfishable.

Sydney Harbour - February 2004

Sydney Harbour

Date: February 2004

The Sydney Harbour trip proved an interesting although ultimately unproductive trip for the club. We launched at Roseville bridge in the dark and travelled down through Middle Harbour to the heads by sunrise. Here we all split up and tried different locations around the harbour. Stickerman and myself tried some of the large markers, drifting past, casting a variety of sized baitfish patterns on full sink lines. We had no luck as we made our way from marker to marker down the harbour all the way to Point Piper, only spotting a single, very small school of pelagics a few times as they broke the surface feeding. We didn't even get time enough to identify them. After a mid-morning snack we phoned Big Bob and Dave to see if they were having any luck but no one reported any success. Bob was moored just inside North Head so we headed back to join him where he was berlying up. Again no luck so we moved yet again and followed Dave back up Middle Harbour towards the boat ramp. We stopped at Bantry Bay for a quick fish after Dave received a report from Justin that there had been Kingfish in there, but again not much luck. By lunch time we were back at the ramp and on our way home. It was a long trip for no fish, but I still found it an enjoyable morning and an interesting way to view a waterway that I had seen from many angles but never from the water.