Introduction:
The first week of the school holidays is frustrating for me, many moons have passed since I can remember them with such rejoice. To me they signal the start of the slow season, the days get longer, work becomes dull and uneventful apart from time spent directing small amounts of interstate and international tourists towards national monuments of significance ( “Which bus do I catch to the War memorial?” ).
From the above statement some would think I work for the local transport authority, to me its all in a days work owning and operating a small Café in the heart of Canberra city. Life is one big window just begging to be stared out of, it does however drive me somewhat bonkers to see hordes of populace enjoying themselves during business hours with such rich abandonment. Taxation costing has me working hard for the man five days a week, withdrawn thought helps bring me closer to my time… I am a weekend warrior.
Defeating the first week of holiday trade mentioned above deserved a reward, my friend Craig and I etched a plan to be off and devout some time to the art of Beach Fishing ( A past time handed down to us by our Fathers / Grandfathers ). I have not fished the surf in some time, without my Dad’s steely glare and stern words to add confidence I was definitely out of my league. Craig’s recent excursions to the South Coast added comfort and knowledge, many fish had been caught and lost with a few trips over and above expectations.
Friday 12th October 2007 :
I managed to conclude the week and collect Craig late Friday afternoon for our exodus, the Forester was packed, the anticipation high, our goal was set. Webs of tales were told and spun as we wound our way down through the small townships and onto the coastal plain. A small matter of sustenance ( Kentucky Fried Chicken ) provided the only hazard crossing our path, ultimately procuring Pilchards, Stripped Tuna and Ice was our numero uno policy. The departure felt like a termination before it even commenced, all we had to conquer was another 30km before we could amass the tents and plunder the Tasman Sea.
The destination was reached prior to 9pm in conjunction with the run out tide. Franticly, Craig pitched the shelters like a madman induced with saltwater fever while I helped where I could. Camping is another pastime I have neglected over numerous years, my itinerary was lacking but two tents and borrowed gear ( Thanks to Craig ) helped fashion the creature comforts I required to avoid searching for the back of the Subaru at the crack of dawn.
On this trip it was decided we would transport a quiver of 12’ / 10’ Beach rods for baiting the surf, 8’ general-purpose combos to cast metals / lures from the adjacent rock walls and two light / medium spinning sticks for any estuary employment we might encounter.
Tonight however, only the beach tackle was sorted and combined for the sandy walk through coastal scrub onto the small dunes of Bengello beach. Bearing a course west along the beach, looking for gutters, proved easy enough ( Even under a new moon phase ) with three holes not far off the beaten track behind the Moruya Airport runway.
Walking a small distance we set up for the next few hours, Craig recommended rigging a star sinker on a twin hook paternoster or ganged whole pilchard rig rather than a running sinker with a 50cm trace. Baiting up and deploying our offerings proved effortless but would our presentations be natural enough to entice the fish throughout the remainder of the high tide?. Our target species for this trip was indeed the iconic and sometimes loutish Australian Salmon, species such as Jewfish ( Mulloway ), large Tailor ( Greenbacks ) and Stingray’s also exist along this stretch of coast and would befall a welcome by-catch.
As previously mentioned it had been awhile since I had put line to gutter and struggled to index bites initially on lengthy rods and such profound line ( 20lb monofilament mainline, 30lb fluorocarbon leader ). Swell pounded in, investing weight on my line as the waves became insolvent. The star sinkers I purchased proved a great investment and held our baits firmly in the strike zone. Time seemed to roll at a snail's pace, our timing was off and apparently we missed our evening run. The seascape became superficially composed, calm and collected. We trudged back to base for a well-earned rest, watches were synchronized and alarms were set in eagerness to raise a morning scale.
Saturday 13th October 2007 :
On most Saturday mornings I lie dormant until gentlemen hours command a presence, but this one was fraught with differences. For the first occasion on record ( That I can recall ) I actually lay awake, staring intently at my mobile phone while the sun breached the tents surface area… With flourishing confidence I turned the alarm from snooze to off. “Beep, beep beep beep, beep beep, beep beep beep”, almost like clockwork ( Pun intended ) I hear Craig’s alarm go off in the distance a minute or so later. To complete this mornings waking ritual ( Sans coffee mind you ) all we had to do was don waders, gear and count dew coated rabbits whilst we walked 300m onward to the previous nights location.
Once again our gutter was empty of the likeminded, to the east and west of us though a few keen anglers made their presence felt early. Striped tuna strips were cut and left on the bait board ( An esky lid, what else? ), we hoped by adding a cocktail of Pilchards and oily Tuna into the mix we would bring on the bite as early as possible and maintain a solid fishing platform as we waited for the tide to turn. I wanted to be spooled, I needed to feel the strength of a renegade fish dreadfully seeking an open headland. We spoke to the other fisherman as they passed us on the way to the car park / campground, they complained of cold currents over the past few weeks and nothing of note had been caught recently apart from a few Sand Whiting.
We still held high hopes until low tide hit and depression set in, we had until late afternoon for optimal conditions to return. Breakfast in Moruya with a side of estuary became the order of the day. Upon returning to our gear-laden site we were given an opportunity to purchase firewood for the evening ahead. The total cost of $23, including the daily council accommodation fees for two, was quite reasonable given the facilities available at our disposal ( Bore water, drinking water, firewood, toilets and general camp site space ).
Wandering into the township of Moruya takes no more than a few minutes from either side of its river mouth. From the airport, North Head drive occupies the bank side cache as it flows towards its upper reaches and beyond the community’s local bridge.
Even on the last weekend of the school holidays, many shops were closed on the weekend. With a general district population of around 10,000, it must be hard running a small business for tourists that’s beyond the norm ( Newsagent, Supermarket, Bakery or Café ). Finding Woolworths was a godsend, after procuring a few chocolate muffins we scouted out some estuary commotion we noticed as we crossed the bridge.
My first thoughts were of Mullet and Tailor boiling there way across the flats, silver flashes lit up portions in the hidden weed. On closer inspection some large rogue Bream broke the beds and flowed past super sized Whiting, we were on tenterhooks returning to the car and grabbed our light gear and soft plastics in a flurry of expectation. My new TD Sol rod ( Light / Medium 7” Spinning rod matched to my TD 2500 Sol reel ) was eager to break its drought and head for the pool room early.
Tying on a 3” power minnow rigged on a 1/16th weight was my opening choice, the painted orange jighead induced a few follows from a small school of Bully Mullet.
Frustratingly I started switching plastics from Gulp jerk baits, Squidgy shads, all the way to Atomic grubs and prongs. We threw an arsenal of sizes, varying sink rates and retrieves, most attempts were approached but all the indicated species appeared spooked and vulnerable when swimming the lures through gin clear water at low tide ( Some Garlic or Aniseed scent additive may have helped ). The XO Whiting mooching slowly within arms reach were driving me insane, I would have killed for a cheap packet of frozen prawns and some red tubing!
Fearing a result similar to our preceding efforts we spent very little dynamic time here, opting to move south out of town towards Moruya Heads to fish from the prominent Break wall governing Shelley beach and Toragy Point. There have been strong reports that Salmon and Whiting inhabit the washy mouth, some large specimens had been sighted and caught recently over the past few months. Craig moved directly to the end of the rocks, casting large bibbed minnows and light metal slugs. We only had our light spinning gear in the Subaru ( Due to a lack of foreseeable circumstances ), the reach of our 8’ combos would have been a windfall acquisition while fishing the retreating current at the mouths edge.
This didn’t stop Craig hooking into a hefty school of honest Salmon almost immediately, they pursued his casts with vigor and he sporadically hooked up to a superior model before the hooks pulled. I clambered up to where he was standing to survey the scene, casting an Atomic 4” Shad beyond the rinse cycle brought followings of Salmon harassing the baitfish-like profile on retrieval. These Salmon were striking short of the hook point, lacking the destructive teeth of Tailor permitted my plastic to remain intact. Spooked by the falling tide and becoming accustomed to our lures, the fish went off the bite briefly so we discussed our options sanguinely.
Being of solid mind, but disturbed nether the less, I cut a small strip of Striped Tuna and fed it onto a ¼ oz yellow jighead for a bit of comic relief. Turning the reel handle slowly and hopping the arrangement back towards our podium drew the Salmon even closer ( Followed by small Flathead, Drummer and Bream ). Small tentative picks all the way through the wash were met with ravenous commotion at the edge of the jaggy structure. Craig and I switched to light sinkers / small hooks and commenced dropping a few small Drummer and Flathead ( In addition to snagging a few rigs ). The conclusion of our stoney foray resulted in christening the TD Sol rod with what must have been the tinniest lizard in the world, an entire girth of around two centimeters!
Returning from duty disenchanted, exhausted and hungry we headed back to our encampment for some rest and recuperation. The tide was predicted to be entirely turned by 6:30pm, this was our final chance to lock and load for the tour. Fishing two hours either side of the high should bring positive results, this time we also took our 8’ outfits to cast metals and sink bait for Mullet. The sunset vanished within half an hour of arriving and visibility became obsolete, minimal use of headlamps helped restore our faith. This weekend had been a bit of a pooch, there was no way we were going to risk spooking more fish and ruining our finale.
This time I detected some small bites early on, losing bait to pickers became the norm over the next hour or so. Sticking with mushy Pilchards, I threaded the head section on the bottom dropper while using the tail on the hook above, hurling the remainding pieces into the surf. A run of Salmon finally came through our area feeding, keeping a tight line I set the hook on an average size fish and walked backwards up the beach. Proudly displaying my catch, I hurried over to Craig to show him my prize. His bait was getting hit left, right and centre as the school passed, he kindly offered to relinquish his rod to its holder and capture an image before it was released ( Thanks again mate ).
The action halted, the cold set in and hunger struck once more. We were both grateful that a fish was caught, no matter which angler secured the prize. Talking about what could have been was a universal topic during the night’s conversations. We embarked on an hour-long return trip to Batemans Bay for a cheap meal ( Mc Donald’s ) before lighting the campfire and hitting the hay. I know Craig must have been disappointed with the weekend’s outcome considering his earlier hauls this month. I was hoping a Sunday sleep in would help ease the pain and lake of fish, we called off any further plans for fishing this weekend providing ease of packing up and returning to the land of responsibility ( And further more, reality ).
Conclusion:
The drive home was swift but somber, we left the campground early to insure missing the final School holiday traffic rush. Dropping Craig on his doorstep at around 12:30pm gave both of us a chance to unwind with loved ones and get ready for the ground hog days that lay ahead in the forthcoming weeks. I really benefited from this trip and would definitely recommend the area’s beaches as a worthwhile solid fishery, easily enjoyed by all ( Thanks to Craig and his willingness to share experiences ).
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