Lake Liddell - September 2005

Lake Liddell

Date: September 2005

The club's annual carp outing was on for this month, and with conditions looking pretty good four boats and 9 members met at Maccas at Singleton at 7am. I hitched a ride with Ken for this trip and by the time we had reached Liddell the wind had picked up a little. With boats launched we each headed off to explore different parts of the lake. Ken and I headed west up into one of the bays looking for some protection from the stiff breeze. The water was deep and clear which made it hard to sneak up on the carp. As we drifted along with the wind parallel to the shoreline we cast at many likely looking structures until suddenly I could see a carp following my fly back to the boat. I paused my strip, let the fly sink back and as soon as it disappeared I lifted into a nice little carp of about 40cm. As we continued we started to get an eye for spotting carp in the shallows behind and between clumps of weeds. I cast into some reeds and was met by a slashing take of my fly, however it didn't stick and line came up slack. A bit further along the shore I spotted a huge carp. I quickly cast, landing my fly right beside it's head and without even stripping, the big fish turned and my fly disappeared. I lifted into it and the fight was on. The fish swam towards us between the submerged weed beds and under the boat. Ken quickly maneuvered backwards but I could feel my leader touching the keel of the boat. Soon the fish was clear and heading deep into weed country. I tried to ease him out but my 5lb leader, already weakened, soon parted company with the fish and it swam off with my fly. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. Rigged up again I soon spotted another smaller carp in behind a large clump of weed and rushes. A quick cast over them (there was no other way) and after a couple of short strips the fish had my fly and was struggling as much as I was. Luck wasn't with me however and the fly pulled out when the fish got in amongst the rushes. By now it was nearing midday and the wind had picked up to gale force (well it felt like it). Hamish and Bob soon appeared and tried a small bay opposite us while we decided to move around near the power station. The trip was a little bumpy but we soon arrived at the far side of the power station to find the Browny brothers fishing the banks. With reports of minor successes we decided to head back to the boat ramp as it was nearly lunch. The wind had whipped the chop up quite a bit by now and although Ken's Quinny had no trouble cutting across it, the trip wasn't exactly dry. Actually I was dry (having huddled behind the big blue esky now mounted on Ken's casting deck) and I quite enjoyed the view of the water flying straight over me and hitting Ken in the face. By the time we had reached the boat ramp Ken was drenched but I had barely a drop on me. Thanks Ken for the great castig platform, it worked a treat. Everyone else soon arrived back at the ramp and we managed an enjoyable BBQ in one of the shelters while we traded stories of our catches. Rob Harwood had the largest fish, and it was his first (but not last) carping trip. As ever, a good day out in great company.

Dam Perch - May 2005

Local Dam Perch

Date: May 2005

This was to be our first Autumn trip to the local “private” dam that we fish for golden and silver perch, so the interest level was high. The lead up to the date had some warm 23 degree days followed by a bit of rain. So we weren’t too sure what to expect. We all met at the nominated spot at 06:30 and car pooled before heading off. We arrived at the dam about 7:30 all geared up in anticipation of some piscatorial adventure. The water was very murky and higher than we have seen it on previous visits, thanks to the previous week’s rain. The weather was absolutely perfect. No wind, nice and sunny just a little chilly at 9 degrees, but it soon warmed once the sun got up a bit. The water temp was cool at only 15 degrees which was a potential problem for us, but as usual we soldiered on. It didn’t take too long for flies to hit the water and the scream of “I’m on” to echo across the dam from Brownie’s direction. He was hooked into what looked to be a reasonable solid fish, which he soon had under control and up on the bank ready for a photo and release. We all continued on fishing with enthusiasm after Brownie’s quick capture and flogged the water for quite a while for zero result. We all moved around the dam trying different flies, different retrieves and different locations but only scored a few feeble hits. Just as we were about to call it a day and get the Barbie warmed up, Jimmy, who had been fishing the same spot for a while yelled as he came up tight on a nice yellow. A quick release saw us all heading back for a nice BBQ lunch before heading home think of what might have been if we didn’t get all the rain prior to the outing. Yet another lesson we have learnt along the way.

Lostock Dam - March 2005

Lostock Dam

Date: March 2005

We had originally planned this trip to be a bassing trip down the Karuah River, however the preceding week's rain had put most of the streams and rivers up that way in minor flood so an alternative was required. I had visited Lostock Dam nearly a decade ago and from what I remember it looked like a promising fishery, even though I never actually fished it. A quick search on the internet drew a near blank with it only mentioned on a couple of web sites, and in those it was only a passing reference. The Fisheries web site did mention some recent bass stocking so it was worth a bit of an explore. With travel arrangements made we met at the end of the F3 at 5.30am. Hamish and Jerryn had gone AWOL hence big Bob was running a little late (surprise surprise). Anyway, it gave me time to have a decent breakfast. Once Bob arrived we headed off through Maitland, up to Paterson and out through Gresford. A missed street sign in Gresford left Browny and myself on the wrong side of town but once backtracked we were on our way and we soon found ourselves winding through rolling green hills with only a few kilometres between us and water. The Paterson River en route was running a torrent, indicating we had made the right decision to change venues. By the time we had arrived at the dam Bob and Dave (with Dan as passenger) were already in the water and fishing the wall opposite the boat ramp. Ivan and I headed upstream to try some other likely looking spots and we spent the next hour or two casting poppers, muddlers and small spinnerbait flies along rocky cliffs into 15-20ft of water. Visibility was about 2-3ft and we had a few bumps but nothing major. Bob soon moved and passed us on his way to some drowned trees. After we completed our drift we headed upstream to try some of the trees and found Bob had been done over by a big fish that wrapped him around some stumps. Our enthusiasm improved and we cast flies around numerous trees to again only receiving a few bumps as we worked our way from tree to tree. Late morning saw us at the top end of the dam fishing any and all likely looking timber. A quick foray in to the river indicated the water was even murkier so we headed back down to try a few more casts before making our way back to catch up with Dave and Dan. They reported that Dan had managed to catch only a turtle, and they were now both casting to a fish that had hit their flies near the bank. We soon left them and started heading back to the boat ramp. Everyone soon followed and by 12.30 we were back at the cars and starting lunch. The usual sausage sandwiches went down well then we packed up and head out. A very picturesque dam, I think it's worth giving Lostock another go when the water clarity is better.

The Entrance - February 2005

The Entrance @ Night

Date: February 2005

Well I'm beginning to think we should change our name to the Central Coast Storm Chasers. After the January outing gave us first hand experience at beach fishing in a storm, I wasn't all that surprised to find inclement weather on the day of The Entrance trip. But it couldn't be worse than the beach trip, could it? Leaving my house at Niagara Park in dry weather I was amazed to find it bucketing down a few km up the road at Ourimbah. 'A good start' I thought, 'but I'm on the road (or what I could see of it) anyway, so I may as well continue and see which other silly buggers had bothered to turn up at the meeting place.' Luckily I wasn't the only one, finding Steve, Ken and Gary Kent already enjoying an afternoon tea in relatively dry conditions at The Entrance. Ivan soon appeared followed by Dave and Browny, and a quick phone call told us the Jimmy was also heading up to join us. While Ivan and I waited to help Jimmy launch, the others put in and were soon up at the bridge. No sooner had they departed than dark clouds rolled up from the south and lightning could be seen behind the trees. Jimmy arrived and we sheltered in the vehicles while a downpour drenched everything. It soon cleared so we decided to launch and go see what it was like on the water. Well I don't think I've fished in much windier conditions. My 6wt looked like it was fully loaded on a cast before I had even moved to draw the line out, and passing showers meant we had to either manoeuvre about 10 metres out from the bridge to sit in it's rain shadow or get very wet. At least there was no lightning to be seen now, even though out west it looked decidedly nasty. Dave was into the first fish, a flatty, but we knew the fishing wouldn't get hot until later in the evening. At least we were getting plenty of practice casting in strong winds. A few minutes later Dave was into a big fish. In fact it looked like it might spool him. Browny rushed to get the motor started and the anchor in before following it towards Ken and Steve where it looked as though it might run around the anchor rope. Steve got their anchor in and the fish soon headed towards us with what looked like the same intention. Ivan soon had our anchor in and Dave and Browny were off heading out towards the channel and the open ocean! It was a monster of a fish and Dave had a good bend in his rod but wasn't making much headway. After about ten minutes the fish headed back towards the bridge, where, in the shallow water, they managed to identify it - a big ray. Damn, we hoped it was either the mother of all flathead or a small jew. The ray managed to take the boys down towards the lake for a hundred metres or so, and kept them busy for another ten minutes before Dave's patience ran out and the leader broke. Soon after, Bob, Hamish and Gerryn arrived in Bob's punt. They were already wet just traveling the half kilometre from the boat ramp, so it was going to be a fun night. Ivan was soon into a flathead and some small tailor had appeared chasing prawns or baitfish on the surface, but the wind had changed to a westerly and that nasty looking weather was looking worse on the far side of the lake. We knew it would reach us eventually, but for now the conditions weren't too bad - the wind had dropped off and there was no sign of rain. By about 8.30 the fish had come on the bite and we were getting some decent bumps and takes, all the while watching a spectacular lightning show in the western sky. Some poor sods were getting a caning over there. In the dark it was hard to say where the storm was as it approached, but we knew it was getting closer by the way the lights on the distant shore were slowly fading in the rain. By 9pm Ivan and I had landed 10 fish between us and lost a few more, so we decided to call it quits and hopefully beat the approaching storm. Dave, Browny, Ken, Steve, Jimmy and Gary had all headed back and catching up with them at the boat ramp they all reported similar success. As we trailered the boats a few big drops of rain started to fall and by the time we were ready to depart the storm had arrived. Another enjoyable trip for the Central Coast Storm Chasers ... er ... Fly Rodders.

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.