A six pack of fishing yarns

How do you even start to write a final article for a magazine that has brought many people so much joy, inspiration and information. fishing

We’re all here because we love the sport and to a myriad of us it’s more than a sport, it’s a lifestyle, a passion and for me, the industry has also made up my entire working life.

Fishing is more than the fish, it’s about the adventures, experiences, time with family and friends, the amazing places that it takes us and the incredible people we meet along the way.

Shout out to the team who produced this great publication and to those of you who supported it.

I’m sure that once the mag wraps up there will be opportunities for us to support the BNB social media channels and other endeavours.

In the meantime, I’m signing out from these pages with a few fishy yarns.

Fish on!

They went that way

A favourite story I often share is fishing K’gari with my wife, spotting and following schools of tailor in the four-wheel-drive, catching fish on metal lures and Z-Man 3” MinnowZ.

We said hello to a fisho and his son a couple of times as we rolled past, they were set up in front of their camp, waiting for a bite.

We stopped nearby, having a drink and a snack, when Sheri grabbed a rod and took off saying, “Tailor!”

I looked down the beach and saw the black patch almost directly in front of where the fisho and his son were fishing.

Sheri arrived in the middle of them, flicked a cast out and proceeded to fight and land a nice tailor, right in front of them.

 

Their response… “Hey, we’ve been fishing here all morning and haven’t had a bite.”

To which Sheri responded, “They’re not here anymore, they went that way.”

This left a couple of fishos with confused looks on their faces, Sheri with a solid tailor and me in hysterics.

The long walk

One family of fish that Sheri and I will never keep if they’re able to be released is trevally.

They are such an awesome fish, stubborn, with a head only a mother could love and why the giant trevally found itself printed on the polycarbonate mugs and wine glasses we handed out at our wedding.

Unfortunately, I had to keep one once because it couldn’t be revived – which was unusual for a trevally, particularly a GT – it was a long and unexpected fight in surf with a big shore dump and I couldn’t get the fish going again.

 

I was spinning 40g metal lures on a 13’6” surf rod with a spin reel, chasing tailor along with queenfish and smaller trevally, when the water exploded – I was hooked to over 1m of GT off the beach.

Fishing 30lb braid, it was always going to be a long fight.

And as much as I tried to move down the beach and change the angle, I would gain some simply to lose it again due to the fish using the waves and sweep to work me over… while I was fighting against a 13’6” lever!

After what seemed like forever – though it was about 25 minutes – I had the fish in the shore break, where it took a solid tumble a couple of times before I managed to beach it.

I then worked hard to try reviving it before realising it wasn’t going to come good.

 

My dad had always taught me to respect the catch, so I concluded that I was going to have to carry the fish over 1km back to camp… on the higher stages of the tide… with the sun setting.

On the journey back, I had to walk through a few campsites.

With the water high, I found myself walking through the camp of the crew Sheri had caught the tailor in front of.

Their eyes nearly popped out of their heads when they saw the fish.

I explained what had happened, gave them a few tips and then they proceeded to tell me about this person who had run down in front of where they were fishing, pulled out a tailor and then told them that the fish went that way.

I laughed and told them that was my wife.

 

We spoke to them frequently throughout the trip, sharing some information, and they caught some nice fish.

I eventually made it back to camp where the fish was made into fish bites to feed a few camps around us.

A sad end, though the fish didn’t go to waste.

Bait fishing is stressful

My family has always fished and I’m lucky my wife quickly fell in love with the sport… or maybe it was more the camping adventures, camp cooking and meeting people along the way.

All our early fishing was with lures and one day I suggested we pump some yabbies then relax and catch a few whiting from the kayak.

I generally fish with softer rods and Australian-made Platypus nylon monofilament line when fishing with bait, however I grabbed three lure combos spooled with braid, just in case we wanted to switch over to lures.

 

I had two rods out from my kayak and was baiting Sheri’s rod up when one of mine launched from the kayak, thanks to the more responsive rod and no stretch in the braid.

It was cruising across the surface, so I cast Sheri’s unbaited rod over it, wound in and hooked the rod grip.

It all happened in a matter of seconds.

I wound the escaped combo in and then wound in a bream!

So began Sheri’s dislike of bait fishing – other than whiting on K’gari – as it’s too stressful.

This was reinforced by de-hooking a couple of stingrays.

 

Then… you wouldn’t believe it, a lapse in concentration and my other rod launched from the kayak!

This time the escaped combo headed across my other line, so I picked that rod up, lifted it and shook it around, somehow tangling the combo that had made the surprise exit.

I wound it back in, and again, wound the fish in that had taken it overboard.

I wish I had been filming the session – it was one of the most bizarre fishing experiences I’ve had.

I need to catch that fish

My love of flathead and lures stems from an early experience fishing for yellowtail pike.

In winter, these fish school around jetties, rock walls and weed banks, and are great fun to catch, particularly for kids.

 

When I was a youth, I remember watching a couple of young anglers catch them and I asked what they were using.

They said pink Hubba Bubba bubble gum.

Off to the shop I went.

I grabbed my gum, put some on the hook, jigged it like the other crew were and started catching yellowtail pike.

They couldn’t believe it – they eventually informed me that they were actually using red and yellow wool tied to a longshank whiting hook – we are still friends to this day.

When gathering them for bait, I have since caught yellowtail pike on whatever I could find in the boat, including strips of rag, foil chip packets and orange peel.

 

But if you really want to target them, tie on a Pink Glow coloured Z-Man 2.5” Slim SwimZ rigged on a 1/4oz 1/0 TT HeadlockZ Finesse jig head.

Though it wasn’t a fish I caught that inspired my obsession with lure fishing, it was one I lost.

I was jigging yellowtail pike when I hooked a small trumpeter on the wool.

As I went to lift the trumpeter out of the water to unhook it, I saw a big brown head come up from the depths and attempt to eat it.

It was a monster flathead.

I lowered the trumpeter back into the water, the flathead ate it and suddenly I was hooked up to the largest fish I’d ever encountered.

I wish there was a happier ending, but because of the light gear I was fishing, it quickly bit me off.

It did inspire me to pick up a few cheap lures from the Brisbane Boat Show though and I was soon on my flathead journey.

I’ve been framed

After years of fishing, I’ve always said that I would rather help someone else catch a fish than catch one myself.

One of my favourite trips was taking an intellectually disabled person fishing and allowing him to drive the tiller-steer tinnie.

The look of terror on his father’s face was priceless, though I always had a hand close to the tiller in case he tried to get too creative.

We stopped to fish off a sandy stretch of beach, pumped some yabbies and put some rods out.

After catching a few whiting, my dad filleted one, hooked the frame onto the young fisho’s rod, cast it out and then told him he was getting a bite.

 

He struck the fish frame with excitement, fought it like it was an epic battle and then was shocked when he landed a fillet-less fish!

Though he couldn’t speak, I recognised a few of the hand gestures he used when he saw my dad laughing.

Good times.

I heard another story from his family… the young fisho had caught a big bream off the beach down the coast, brought it home and then wouldn’t let anyone fillet it.

The fish was kept in the freezer for a couple of years and brought out to proudly show any new visitor who dropped in.

Maybe not the best end for the bream but it certainly made the ‘angler’ happy.

And without social media, that was the most effective way to get a few likes.

That’s your son

I’ll finish with one for my folks, who introduced me to fishing, taught me the basics and have always supported my angling obsession.

My mum and dad were watching the news – minor releases of water were coming from the local dam and gushing out through a pipe into the spillway.

In the middle of the foamy water was a rock with someone fishing off it.

Dad said to Mum, “Look at that moron,” to which she exclaimed, “That’s your son!”

The rock made it a simple cast into deeper water and, more importantly, the oxygenated water that bass were holding in, resulting in plenty of hook ups.

 

The water levels were fine, the walk to the rock was sketchy but safe and the water movement would simply push me back to the shallow edge if I did go in.

I was doing the miles to get the smiles, as we often do as fishos, while keeping everything as safe as I could.

In saying that, safety is always a key consideration when exploring, fishing and going the extra mile to get the bite, so safety first… always.

Thanks for reading, stay safe and enjoy the fishing journey.

See you on the water.