Worldbiker

Mulloway, Dhus, Sambos and Snappers!

2012-01-25T17:12:00.000-08:00

13kg Mulloway from the west coast of Australia. It took a while, but will hopefully be the first of many!

After dreaming of it for a while, I finally landed a big Mulloway a few days ago. This great looking fish, that pulled the scales down to 13kg, had put up an incredible fight despite the heavy tackle for which I had opted. The previous sessions had been fairly eventful, but luck hadn't been on my side whenever I'd hooked into big fish. Either the line parted on the sharp rocks or, for some reason, the hooks pulled, which on every occasion, left me a little unhappy to say the least.

Waiting for a big fish to take the bait. luckily, on this occasion the wait was only thirty seconds!

Using fish fillets as bait I was fairly surprised when the rod pulled around hard just a minute after the bait had settled. The fight was on as the big fish tore off, even though the drag was set pretty tight. Ten seconds later the hook popped and I felt that sinking feeling again. I knew a big Mulloway had just given me the slip! Next cast and another quick bite resulted in a 'soapie' that had gobbled down the huge bait. Then, with the third cast, my luck was in as another solid fish picked the bait up after 30 seconds and also tore off towards the horizon. Using my Shimano beastmaster, some serious pressure was exerted on the fish and, after a solid scrap, the big silver Mulloway rolled on the surface close to the rocks. Without any assistance the next couple of minutes were pure mayhem and, somehow, the fish, me and my rod ended up reaching the safe spot where I could take some photos. Luckily for me, Lloyd came to my rescue and clicked off a few good shots and helped me carry the fish home because, unfortunately, after ten minutes of trying for a release it, I found that it wasn't to be.

The Jig strikes again! 13kg West Australian Dhufish that inhaled a 55g vertical jig dropped 45 metres. Happy days indeed!

Like the Mulloway for inshore fishing, the Dhufish is the number one target for offshore anglers. And, also like the Mulloway, a few big ones had previously given me the slip. Last time I was in Dongara, fishing with Lloyd, I hooked and lost a big Dhufish. And lately, with the weather conditions being unfavourable, fishing out in the boat has been hard, to say the least, and a few trips have been relatively unproductive. But, finally, a perfect day arrived and we were able to get far enough out to find cooler water where Lloyd expected the fish to be shoaling up. And he wasn't wrong because as the jigs and soft plastics started touching the sea bed over 40 metres below the surface, fish started hitting the lures.

Lloyd with a great looking Pink Snapper that also nailed a vertical jig

Elise fished soft plastics, while Lloyd and I dropped Shimano jigs and both baits were eagerly accepted by the many fish below. Dhufish, Pink Snapper and, after a while, Samson fish got in on the action, at which point it became hard to hook another species.

A big Dhu for the Dhu master himself! Amazingly, people around this area still doubt the effectiveness of jigs and soft plastics even when they see photos like these!

And another quality Dhufish, this time for Elise!

From the word go, the Dhus hit the lures and we soon all had a superb specimen. Lloyd lost a big fish, but then made up for it by landing one of around 12kg, after a strong fight. Elise landed a beauty too - finally, after five or six session, things had come right! After landing three good Dhu fish in a row, Elise hooked up to another big fish which seemed to be the same species and, even when it rolled onto the surface, it looked like a Dhu. However, it was a monster Pink Snapper, the biggest so far to grace Lloyd's boat. It seemed the day couldn't get much better, but it soon did!

Elise's massive Pink Snapper that nailed a Macarthy soft plastic! Nice!!!

Strangely, the Samson Fish that Lloyd almost always hooks while out on the boat had also been absent on previous sessions. Rising summer water temperatures had either put the fish off feeding or sent them into deeper, cooler water. And, it seemed that we had found a shoal at last; small fish at first, but increasing in size as the day went on until, eventually, fish of up to 12 kg were nailing the lures every drop. It was frantic fishing that left our arms burning and wrists aching, but it was still impossible to resist just one more drop!

WA Samson Fish taken on the vertical jig!

A good fish for Lloyd on a Shimano vertical jig

As the fish shoaled below the boat, it seemed that more were joining the group as the action picked up and the size of fish increased throughout the day, eventually peaking at 10 to 12kg.

Two good Samson Fish

Double hook-ups happened most drops and, when Elise dropped her lure between filming, it was usually triple hook-up mayhem!

A bigger Sambo for Elise, taken on a soft plastic lure

Pink Snapper

While the Samson Fish were on the bite, it was hard for other species to get a look in, but occasionally, if the jig was bounced on the sea bed, a quality Pink Snapper would bite.

As soon as the wind picked up, the fish decided to shut down and that was it for the day. The next day we were back out, but things were very different and the fish didn't want to play ball. It was still worth it because, on a long drift, Lloyd's jig got absolutely hammered by a large fish that turned out to be a big Malabar Rock Cod.

Malabar rock cod taken on the jig

Next trip out and the weather had changed hugely; temperatures were up to 45 degrees and water temperatures were also soaring. Lloyd declared that Tuna would be on the cards, with a chance of Spanish Mackerel as well. A huge bush fire was burning south of Dongara and, as we cruised out to sea, the size of the blaze became clearer as a massive mushroom cloud of black smoke crept skywards. A troll was in order to see what was about, so we chucked a couple of lures over the back and drove around for a while. And it wasn't long before Lloyd's deep diving x rap got smashed. The culprit was a big Samson Fish that came to the boat with a few of his mates in tow. Seeing four large fish swim around the boat made good viewing, but none of them would touch the lures we frantically threw their way.

Big, trolled up Samson Fish for lloyd

After the Samson Fish, a double hook-up resulted in two, small, but strong and fighting Bonito and then things went quiet. So we went jigging over some good looking ground and, while we jigged, some Tuna started to show on the surface around us. A horizontal vertical jig got nailed pretty fast and a Tuna of around 5-6kg came to the boat a little too fast. Lloyd was right that the Tuna would be feeding! And he would also have been right to let the fish tire a little more, because when I was about to pull it aboard, the gears seemed to engage and the fish took off at super high speed like it suddenly realised what was happening.

Hard-fighting Tuna that nailed a jig cast in its direction

For the next hour we chased the flighty shoal of Tuna around without any more success. They were feeding, but not hard, and it seemed there were not too many fish in the shoal. A large group of Dolphins also fed close by over the rough ground. Soon, through frustration, we went back to jigging and a couple of small fish, including a Silver Trevally and a Sand Bass, graced the boat. After a while, something solid nailed my lure and a strong fight ensued for the next five minutes with the first 30 seconds feeling as though the big fish might gain cover of the rough sea bed. Lloyd called it for a good Dhu Fish and, sure enough, a beautiful big Dhuie was soon beaten.

Dhu fish that hit my jig hard, but note the almost non existent hook-up ... LUCKY ... very lucky!

Tailor fishing

2011-12-30T20:12:00.000-08:00

The Tailor (Pomatomus saltatrix) is a widely sought after sport fish over much of the Australian coastline. Known as shad or elf in South Africa and bluefish in America, it's a fish with a wide geographical distribution and an equally wide following among anglers. An aggressive predator, the tailor can be caught with a number of different techniques, but the most exciting must undoubtedly be surface lures. Find the baitfish, structure and water movement and the tailor will seldom be far away.

A Stunning 82 cm tailor that took a Halco Roosta popper just on sunset. Although not the best-rated tailor lure, the Roosta popper definitely comes up with the goods. Fished in the right place at the right time, most top water lures will work, but some more effectively than others. Rapala skitter pops, and Maria bull chops and pop queens are popular among tailor fisherman. Subsurface stickbaits can be devastating when fished in the right area, particularly if the fish aren't confident enough to hit the poppers.

Tailor frequent the washes around shallow reef, which Lloyd knows only too well. Casting Maria stickbaits and Shimano waxwings produced a number of quality fish including this 60cm beauty. The closer the lure gets to the wash, the higher the chances of hooking good fish. The swirling waters provide ideal ambush habitat for this high speed predator.

Another good fish that came out of the white water on a Shimano waxwing

A tailor fisherman works a stick bait over the reef breaks.

Tailor like this are an absolute delight to catch on surface lures. If the fish are in the mood, multiple strikes from two or three fish aren't uncommon . One thing's for certain and that is the lure will be getting nailed.

Nick casting a Roosta popper for tailor, Western Australia

And the result! A fine tailor that fought hard all the way to the rocks. In some areas where the underwater terrain is rough, some serious pressure must be put on to keep the fish from reaching the oysters and barnacle. Although tailor are a fairly clean fighting fish in the shallow water where they like to live, the structure is often too close for comfort

A good fish on a Rapala Skitter Pop that was worked fast back to shore. When the fish are a little shy blooping the popper with short stops may help induce a bite.

Many outstanding fishing spots on the West coast of Australia are tucked away behind the sand dunes. A good 4wd vehicle can open up hundreds of superb fishing spots.

A specialist collection of tailor lures

Lloyd flicking lures to a reef break

A typical beach, Western Australia; lots of fish and very few fisherman. Pretty spoilt over here really!

Soaking a big bait for mulloway. Unfortunately, none was to show apart from a couple of small soapies as they are known. I'm planning to meet with a few bigger fish over the next weeks - so fingers crossed.

Western Australia road trip

2011-11-19T23:46:00.000-08:00

Returning from South Africa to Darwin I found the temperature soaring and humidity up at unbearable levels. The build up was here and, every day, heavy dark clouds rolled in over the Beagle Gulf. Not much rain had fallen yet apart from the odd tropical downpour, but if the previous wet season was anything to go by, it wouldn't be long until the land was well and truly drenched.

Mitch collected me from the airport in the early hours and we headed out to Gunn Point, east of the city. Enough rain had fallen, though, to transform the bone-dry landscape to a spread of rejuvenated greenness. The black, parched bush had vanished under a cloak of new lush growth, which would become even thicker as the wet continued. It was good to be back.

As we bounced along the wide red track through eucalypt forest a big frill necked lizard dashed across the road perilously close to the ute. It was a near miss, but by the time we had stopped and run into the bush the fancy-looking lizard had vanished - probably sitting quietly up a tree. Now the temperatures were up, the lizards had emerged from hibernation and later I would see plenty around the city.

Gunn point wasn't a bad spot. Miles of deserted beach ran off in both directions from the large, shady tree under which we had camped. Occasionally, along the sand, turtle tracks broke the smooth surface where one had crawled up to the high water mark to lay eggs. Unfortunately, it seemed that most of the nests had been ransacked by feral pigs. A scorching hot day led through to a crimson sunset followed by a sky peppered with bright stars. It was a perfect way to arrive back in Australia, but things deteriorated after dark when thousands of mosquitoes came out to play. This was wasn't a major problem, but when I awoke late in the night, flashes to the north east warned of an approaching storm. We hoped it would skirt around us and head inland, but in the early hours of the morning large drops of rain started to fall on the sand. Mitch and Dion had pulled an old camper van out from Darwin the previous week, so now we all huddled inside as the heavy rain drops rattled on the roof.

Back in Darwin while I waited for Nick to arrive from Singapore I spotted this bush stone curlew, or bush thick-knee (Burhinus grallarius), acting suspiciously. A closer look revealed that it was protecting its two young tucked under its wings. By lying as flat and as dead still as possible, the curlew hoped I couldn't see her! While I photographed this wonderful animal, the male curlew did his best to distract, or scare, me by running about with his wings extended.

A Kakadu Barra to christen a new popper

When Nick arrived we picked up a hire van and were both itching to get on the road, with the first stop being Kakadu for a spot of surface fishing. Knowing the spot from before, we made a beeline for the river I had fished, but stopped at a couple of bridges along the way. At one spot a shoal of tarpon fed below and it didn't take long for one of them to hit Nick's lure. The fish he hooked gave him the slip, but next cast a good barra crept up behind his fizzer before hitting it hard. This one didn't escape and so got us off the mark for the trip.

To reach the spot we wanted to fish meant some unsealed and corrugated road which, apparently, wasn't allowed in this particular hire vehicle. So the order of the day was to keep the vehicle in one piece and not get stuck somewhere deep in the bush!

After some fairly bumpy ground that made the little van moan and groan we reached our spot and made camp. It was hot and sticky, but the temperature dropped off a bit after sunset making things slightly more comfortable. Like back at Gunn Point, a huge electrical storm raged in the distance. It would spell disaster if the rain had reached us because the flood plain on which we were camped was dry clay that would turn into a sticky swamp with the slightest bit of rain. Without a doubt, we would be completely stuck, so I spent most of the night tracking the storm ready to make a fast exit if it happened to reach our camp. By some stroke of luck the rain skirted round to the east of us, but, later, around two in the morning, another storm came in from the north. Thankfully, this one also headed off east and, after that, everything was calm.

In the early morning, armed with a couple of surface lures, we walked over the bank and down to the clear water river. As soon as Nick's fizzer started to fizz, fish showed an interest and seconds later the first barra of the day was on the bank.

Surface lure gave spectacular results and it wasn't long before we had notched up a few good fish. It seemed, however, that a snake and crocodile phobia was really playing on Nick's mind, so, after a while, when the banks became steeper, we turned back to camp. It was a shame because, where the banks become harder to negotiate, the water becomes deeper and the fish are bigger. It didn't help that we heard an almighty splash downstream that sounded like a mammoth crocodile launching into the depths.

Ox-eye tarpon were about and hit the surface lures with their usual keenness. Shortly after catching this one I spotted a Sawfish cruising about at the junction of shallow and deep water. Maybe next time I'll get a closer look at one of these prehistoric beasts!

Spread out around Kakadu are numerous lush valleys where the creeks flow. We had to stop at this spot ... 'Barramundi gorge'. I'd seen it on the map before I reached Australia and wondered what it might be like. Sure enough it didn't disappoint; clear water full of fish and, of course, plenty of barra cruising through the still water. The only drawback was that fishing isn't allowed, but it didn't actually matter - just being there was enough.

Barramundi Creek, Kakadu National park. Full of saratoga, barra, sooty grunter, and archer fish, amongst other smaller species

Nick flicking a lure in one of Kakadu's beautiful rivers. Small holes on the corners produced little saratoga and sooty grunter.

Frill necked lizard in all its glory ready to suck in a fly! When agitated, these lizards extend a huge frill around the neck which helps them look bigger. And if that doesn't do the trick he might even come in for an attack!

A quick stop and the Ord River at Kunnunura produced a couple of small barra and archer fish.

The Northern territory is home to many millions of flying foxes which roost during the day in shady trees. Unusually, these were low in the trees meaning a half decent photo could be shot.

Our trusty van had covered over 500,000 km in Australia and seemed still to be going strong! We did wonder at times whether the Toyota would make it as far as Perth. A funny noise that developed half way through the trip had us thinking the worst, but the van plodded on to its destination unfazed.

A stop at eighty mile beach was pleasant. When I had stopped here on the trip north the place was seriously overrun with tourists. One could hardly move for caravans and cables, but now, a few months later, with all the tourers gone, it was actually an enjoyable spot. That is, apart from the fact that we still didn't catch a fish!

A peacock that, for some reason, was white.

The first saltwater fish of the trip fell to nick's Halco Slice up at Point Samson at Dampier. Surprisingly, it was this shark that put up a nice little scrap!

A lot of careful thought saw us conclude that Exmouth was the best place for us to spend most of the trip! 4,000 km from Darwin, it took a few days flat out to reach the fabled fish spot of Exxy, as it's known! Not long after we arrived the fish started hitting the lures! This small barracuda was first up on to the sand!

A nice cod was up next! After a good fight I managed to coax him out of the reef!

Then a couple of coral trout fell to the lures

Nick and a shore-caught coral trout

Later in the day we headed up to the Mildura wreck and flicked a few lures. First cast with a soft plastic and wham! A strong fish took off leaving me pretty helpless. I managed to regain a little line, at which point the fish reefed me. Hmm ... so a swim was in order and, after a minute of tussling and diving, this beautiful cod lay on the sand.

The marina at Exxy holds a few good fish, but unluckily most of them gave me the slip. Small shoals of bonito cruised about harrassing bait fish shoals. No queen fish showed, but a few small trevally and snappers has a go at the lure. Evening and early mornings would probably see some good action - more so than at midday, when we usually fished.

From first impressions, Mildura shipwreck at north west cape looked like an incredibly fishy spot - a shallow reef runs out a hundred metres, giving way to deeper water channels and dispersed coral reef. Wading out at sunset and flicking a silver stick bait was the winning formula which almost guaranteed small giant trevally. Standing waist deep in the warm water with turtles swimming past within metres of my perch was a great experience. And every so often the lure would get smashed by a determined GT. Usually, the fish would shoot out of a deep channel twenty yards in front and start laying into the stickbait. On the light tackle, a good scrap would always result as the powerful fish scooted off at high speed over the reef. Surprisingly, no big fish and no other species hit the lures, but then again, the small GTts up to 6kg were enough for a good buzz. Small reef sharks would also cruise past within metres of where I stood and, sometimes, a large turtle would creep up and power off leaving a large boil on the water's surface. That was usually enough to start me wondering whether it was time to start wading back to dry land. The highlight of the evening sessions was when a dugong passed by just a few meters away, its back breaking the water's surface as it slowly plodded along.

One of the target species of the trip was a shark. Now, most Australians don't seem too interested in catching sharks, but having lived in the UK where big fish are pretty scarce, the idea of getting your string pulled by a huge toothy shark is quite inviting! The plan was to fish nights when it would be cooler and the fish more active. A large bucket of berley was employed to try to attract some sharks into the area that we were fishing. First session it didn't take long for some beasties to show an interest in our baits and a good sized fish took the bait fairly quickly. For its size, the fight was pathetic, but the beauty of the fish made up for it. A fairly rare leopard shark rolled on the surface of the water and then posed for a photo before being slipped back into the warm sea. Soon an absolute monster ray arrived and started nosing around on the berley trail. It was a massive fish which might have weighed >130 kg and, for some reason, I got the idea that it would be exciting to toss a fish head in the monster's direction. Five minutes later I was wholeheartedly regretting my idea as the fish powered away and I realised it might take a few hours before I lay eyes on it again. After five minutes the 100lb leader parted on what must have been about the only snag for 400 metres around!

This chap was on holiday with his mates in Exmouth. Despite having a boat, they had fared pretty badly over the week they had fished, landing a few small tuna and trevally. Seeing us setting up tackle for the sharks, instead of leaving, they joined and in the end had the best fishing of their trip, landing a couple of beauties which looked like lemon sharks.

A snapper from the harbour.

A view of the Mildura wreck. The photo is deceptive in that the distance from the gulls to the wreck is much longer than it seems. After a hundred-plus metres of wading there is still eighty metres of water to the wreck, and this water is where the trevally hit the lures.

Just on sunset, the usual time for action, the water erupted behind my stickbait as this GT ploughed into it. The strike came soon into the retrieve so the lure was still far out near the wreck and the result was a long fight with me somehow winning the battle after some tense moments. Not a big fish by any means, but big enough to take over ten minutes to land and cause some solid excitement!

Back at the shark fishing spot we landed a string of good fish, as well as losing some crackers. For every fish we landed the hook would pull on another, but with so many runs every night it was nothing to worry about. The larger fish usually took ten to fifteen minutes to play to the beach using 80lb power pro and a Fin Nor 6500 doubled with my Shimano Beastmaster beach caster. Four metres of 100lb hard mono and a further metre of 150kg wire with a circle hook finished off the rig and seemed to be strong enough to land the fish we encountered.

Nick with a good Lemon shark that took line for six minutes on its initial run. It looked doubtful for a while whether it would stop, but eventually, with very little line left, the fish turned and slowly started to come to the beach. See the run here..http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbR6ZabxJA4&context=C3ff6134ADOEgsToPDskLVZFXlongJIjrOHzqkTSeC

These bait fish, known as hardy heads, are plentiful around Exmouth at certain times of the year. Unfortunately, we didn't come across many, but when large numbers are pushed up against the shore, good fishing is never very far away!

Another good shark that took a mackerel head bait.

The flies reached plague proportions while we stayed in Exmouth and there really was no way of avoiding them apart from jumping in the sea. But then, as soon as your breath ran out, the flies would be there ready and waiting.

The resident osprey usually seemed to have more luck than us when it came to fishing!

The night after I hooked and lost the big ray Nick also hooked into a big fish that fought differently to a shark. We suspected a big sting ray and, sure enough, after a relatively short fight of 45 minutes, we landed a huge sting ray. It was quite subdued for the duration of the fight, but when I grabbed the leader, the fish woke up and all hell broke loose. Unable to pull the heavy weight any further than the shallowest water we were happy when the leader popped and the big fish swam free without any further trouble. It's hard to appreciate from the photo quite how big the ray was, but with my limited experience I'd estimate it at somewhat over 130kg.

Another evening Trevally that couldn't resist the silver stick bait at the Mildura wreck.

The Naval pier is known for its big resident GTs, but we unfortunately weren't destined to meet any of these powerhouses. A few big fish did hit the large surface poppers, but all were sharks. One afternoon as we walked up the beach towards the pier, packs of sharks were roaming up and down the reef that ran the length of the beach. A popper cast out was guaranteed to be chased by one of these 50kg fish, but without any wire I drew the popper away on every strike. A couple were pretty keen and followed the popper up into a few feet of water before turning to seek deeper water. One that sticks in my memory came so far up the beach that I had to back out of the knee-deep water in case the shark got any strange ideas!

Joy of joys; a bait-scoffing puffer fish! Nice!

Another spot on the cape produced some good fish, but unfortunately my luck was out and a string of slippery customers jumped the hooks! This small trevally was one of the unlucky ones that had to come ashore to have its photo taken.

After losing four in a row, I was over the moon when this beautiful queen fish stayed attached to the hooks. It was a spectacular multi-strike hook-up followed by numerous rocket-like jumps throughout the fight. For a twenty or thirty minute period the tide movement was just right for the fish to go on a feeding spree and then, suddenly, all would be quiet again.

Another shark that might be a whaler of some sort...

While we were in Exmouth hundreds upon hundreds of turtles were inshore to breed and lay eggs. Some of the beaches such as Janz were so busy with turtles that it was almost impossible to cast a lure. Every morning, many new turtle tracks led the way up the beach to just above the high water mark where the nest is dug and the eggs laid. Whereever we fished around Exxy, the turtle numbers definitely meant subsurface lures were out and surface lures were in!

After a week or so in Exmouth the flies drove us out. They were too much, so we headed south towards Perth, where a stop was made at Quobba.

Singapore and Darwin

2011-11-19T20:23:00.000-08:00

Back in Darwin I got a quick fix of salt water fishing from some high speed small GTs. A friend, Jamie who is a licensed coral collector kindly let me tag along for the day and what a day it was. Passionate about the sea Jamie is a fountain of knowledge about Darwin and the surrounding areas, having spent many years diving, fishing and exploring the NT's coastline. First stop was on a reef near the Vernon Islands to the east of the city which to be fair looked like fisherman heaven. On the out going tide water rushed down a deep channel that cut the shallow reef areas in two. A huge amount of water was moving on the seven metre tide which meant in a matter of minutes we would have to move on unless we fancied waiting a few hours for the incoming tide to submerge the reef again. Everywhere fish were busting on the surface, mauling shoals of bait fish, which were disorientated in the strong currents and of course that's where we cast. Fighting fit trevally came every second cast and seemed like they thought the poppers might be the last meal in the world. Darting behind the lure repeatedly striking until finally luck would run out and a hook would grab hold. Although the fish were only small the strong current meant fights were magnified somewhat.

After thirty minutes we once again sped over the sea's calm surface, heading further east in search of new grounds. To the north the low land of Melville island stretched for many kilometres along the skyline. Usually obscured in the dry season by the smoke haze from bush fires it was great to see such a view. A few dolphins lazily surfaced as we neared the spot we looked for. By now the tide was nearly low, which is what Jamie needs to do his work.

The reef we stopped on was quite magical. Immediately a turtle swam by and later we spotted a number of small reef sharks patrolling the shallows. With the reef now dry, huge areas of coral were exposed which made for interesting viewing and in the middle of it all were two blue lakes perhaps seventy metres wide and twelve metres deep; the coral just ends suddenly with a vertical drop. I don't know how these were formed but they looked like good places for fish to become trapped with the dropping tide. And after only a few casts with a roosta popper a large Longtom hit home and rocketed into the air. After a series of high jumps and cartwheels the fish threw the hook just as he came to hand. A few casts later and another Longtom had a go before two large Trevally arrived. Not huge but probably nearing twenty pounds, I was pretty unhappy when they turned at the last second, never to be seen again!

Mitch waited in the boat making sure the strong tide didn't leave us stuck on the reef. The variety of coral and other creatures was quite outstanding. And it was funny the whole time we were out there never did another boat pass by. Later Jamie spent a while diving in a clear bay while Mitch and I kept a look out for sharks. There is also the possibility of Saltwater crocodiles which is the last thing you want to meet while diving. Surprisingly they can be found far out at sea and Jamie told me of another diver that had ended up as croc tucker.

We'd kept a couple of the better Trevally and when Jamie was all finished the bloody water and frames were discarded over the edge of the boat. Not even five minutes later the first reef sharks were ripping into the fresh meat. A minute after that a huge black sting ray arrived and took over from the sharks. In only a couple of feet of water it made for good viewing. Thanks Jamie for a great day!

On the trip out to South Africa a quick stop over was made in Singapore to visit and fish with Nick. There was a chance of some landing some Peacock bass which have been introduced into some of the Singaporean reservoirs. With nick acting as guide we set off through the sweaty metropolis in search of some fishable water. In a matter of minutes the taxi turned off the main road and left the buzz of the high rise town behind. We drove down a quiet jungle clad road and suddenly it was hard to imagine we were still in one of the most densely populated places on earth.

A good Peacock bass from one of the reservoirs. bigger ones lurk around the snags

A small rushing stream ran under the road and emptied into a large reservoir that could be seen a few hundred metres through the jungle. Where the stream widened lush vegetation hung down to the waters edge and provided cover for bass attacks. Still early in the day sweat already dripped from our clothes as we began to cast. Nick chose to fly fish while I flicked a small Mepps spinner on the light rod.

First up was this small Peacock bass that nailed the spinner. A beautiful fish that made me think about the Amazon more than before!!

This pretty Tilapia was next up to have a go, just below the stream in the fast water. In between fishing we had a few monkey related problems, namely a cheeky ape trying to make off with a few lures. Its not a good idea to feed the monkeys in Singapore as the sign below shows. The lure box must have looked like a pretty tasty fruit cocktail to the troop that sat in the trees watching our fishing antics.

These monkeys were definitely up to no good

It didn't take long for Nick to induce a strike with the fly rod. And after all the stories of monsters on the fly I was fully prepared to land the biggest peacock bass in Singapore. So I was a little surprised when Nick hauled a Mickey mouse mug from the depths of the river. Quite a catch really! congratulations mate!

The Jungle where we fished was pretty alive with insects and birds. This little feeder stream was the home to plenty of fish fry and freshwater shrimps. During a little walk around the far side of the river three very large clouded monitors took off through the undergrowth before launching themselves into the water. Without seeing them, the splash could easily be mistaken for a crocodile as these big lizards were 5-6ft in length!

At last I landed a jungle perch or Sebarau. a good fighter with a design similar to a Mahseer the little fish fought well. Last time I came across these was a few years ago in the jungles of Malaysia where I came close to landing a monster. Unfortunately it wasn't close enough!

MacRitchie Reservoir in Singapore is a beautiful spot to get away from the bustle of the city for a while. Unfortunately fishing isn't permitted but a few sneaky casts usually go unnoticed. This is where the biggest peacock bass live and fish have been caught to ten pounds plus. While walking around a pair of adult bass gave themselves away as they followed their fry. A large orange coloured ball slowly moved through the water, followed by the two attentive parents and like snake head a lure cast near to the fry should be attacked immediately. For some reason the fish weren't interested and blankly ignored the two anglers throwing lures at them.

This monkey was choosing his moment to come in for the attack!

Back in the bushveld

2011-10-24T09:27:00.000-07:00

Another fantastic trip to the farm In South Africa has drawn to a close. As usual, it didn't disappoint. Just a week away and I'm already longing to be back. The thought of missing out on those starry skies, abundant animals and untouched bush doesn't seem quite right. Most people would struggle there because it's far away from all mod cons; you can forget about any mall hopping and facebooking, and even a plain old telephone. For four of the five weeks the land line decided to go dead but luckily a telephone tree provided backup. It's a tree twenty minutes up the road where a sporadic mobile signal passes so at least sometimes you can call if the urge is strong. When Richard the phone engineer eventually appeared, his snail-paced saunter said it all. What's the hurry? It's surely all coming - modern technology that is. Slowly encroaching, soon people will be able to check their emails and all of a sudden the bush will become a more inviting place to be. Let's hope it's not too soon.

Spring was on the way. September and October often bring the first rains, complete with fierce electrical storms. That's when I appreciate having a roof over my head. Lightning is so regular that one would surely be dicing with death to sleep out in a tent. I'm not sure how, but the Baboons manage to remain up on their cliff in such weather, but it must be a terrible time. As the second storm of the year rolled in the young ones cried for an hour beforehand. These must have been around the previous season so they knew what was coming. The first storm was violent and practically "dry". Towards the end, behind the southern hills, a pink glow came from a bush fire that soon got quenched by a light rain that briefly fell. The second storm lasted longer and lashed the hell out of everything in its path. Almost continuous electricity fell from the sky for nearly two hours. At half time, heavy, tropical rain began to beat on the tin roof. It was hair raising stuff to witness such powerful natural forces so personally.

A couple of lightning bolts fell perilously close to the house. So much so that I beat a swift retreat away from the metal framed window close to which I had been sitting. Where they landed I don't know, but it must have been within a couple of hundred metres because the earth-shattering crash came instantly. Then came the strike when things had all but calmed down. The storm had moved off south leaving a gentle rain its wake and it seemed safe to venture outside. That was a mistake! I wasn't far from the door when a rip roaring lightning strike crashed into the earth nearby causing the ground to shake. A shower of bright blue sparks cascaded from the workshop roof and I fled to safety, repeatedly cursing and glad to be alive. By far the most impressive sound I have heard - I wondered exactly what had been nailed. The morning after, everything is fresh and the dust settled from thirty mm of rain, so I wander out to find where the lightning had touched down.

The previous week, a team from the electricity company had arrived with a huge cherry picker intent on making the transformer "lightning proof". I listened intently as Daniel, the leader of the gang, explained about the fancy new surge protectors they were busy fitting to the poles. "Do not worry Scott, now your electricity will continue to flow even in the event of a storm". Old Daniel seemed to have faith, but I wasn't all that convinced. The new protectors looked much like the old ones, but maybe I was missing some of the finer details of the new set-up. Well, I got a closer look because that strike had blown the new components to smithereens. Two lay on the ground and the third dangled on the pole from a strand of wire! So much for Daniel's confidence ...

The South African bushveld isn't an easy place to photograph. Continuous bush makes one landscape look much the same as the next so it's all about the animals and smaller details. As the winter draws to an end the monotonous greys and browns are refreshed with a myriad of fresh greens of new spring leaves. Things are slow at first until the signal of the first rains. Then things happen fast. Suddenly a myriad of insects emerges and snakes begin to move from their winter retreats. I hoped to see one of the resident Rock Pythons and, the day after it rained, a true beauty crossed the dirt road ahead. At three and a half metres it was a big snake. Perhaps not quite big enough to eat a person, but small game such as Steenbok and Duiker would definitely be on the menu. As I photographed he slowly wound up in a the striking pose before trying to sink his teeth into my arm. A metre and a half was as far as he managed to strike, but after a while hebecame bored and retreated in the most impressive way as huge, sideways swipes of his long body propelled him to safety.

I searched long and hard for a leopard, but obviously not hard enough. This one was encountered inside a hamster cage at a nearby zoo. It was very sad indeed. Unfortunately predators such as leopards face a tough life in the bushveld. Like everywhere in the world, man can't put up with his livelihood being eaten by wild animals. The recent increase of rare game breeding must also make the leopard's life hard. Scarce game animals worth huge sums of money are protected behind huge electric fences that stretch for kilometres through the bush. Soon, if all these fences join up, there may be no corridor left for the wandering leopard and that will surely seal the fate of this magnificent animal.

Not as large as some of the animals, but probably more impressive, is Wahlberg's Velvet Gecko (Homopholis wahlbergii). The name is pretty good for starters.

This extremely large Rain Spider had taken up residence in my brother's room in his nice warm bed. After being thrown out it returned a few days later and had to be taken out of spider walking distance from the room as Craig was fast getting arachnophobia!

Detail of a gecko

Disease resistant buffalo have become much sought after in the last few years and prices for good animals have sky-rocketed. Game auctions are held in the area every few weeks and prospective buyers can view the animals before bidding later in the day. Anything can be bought, from Rhino or Hippo, down to the smaller species such as Bush Buck and Klipspringer. It all depends on how fat your wallet is!

While I was on the farm we took a couple of American trophy hunters out to search for animals. One was after a Kudu and the other an Eland.

Blue Waxbills and a Jameson's Fire Finch provide a dash of colour amongst the dull winter browns. Busy groups of these little birds will often be seen around the water in the early morning before they head off into the bush to feed.

Spring time always gives rise to a flush of new butterflies of various species. Here a newly hatched Acraea prepares to take flight.

One of the large Monkey Thorns (Acacia galpinii) on the farm. Covered in flowers, and being one of the earliest sources of nectar and pollen, it attracts plenty of insects .

Neil's grader waiting for the hydraulic motor to be repaired. Soon it will be in action after the first rains.

Kudu are perhaps the symbol of the bushveld. Kudu bulls are truly magnificent animals that blend in perfectly with their surroundings. The striped face and great curled horns somehow give them an air of aristocracy.

A huge swarm of flies decided to stay in the garden where conditions seemed to be cooler than the surrounding bush. There must have been millions, but luckily they all vanished after the first rains.

Many trees were bursting into flower while I was on the farm. The Monkey thorn's light yellow powder puffs stand out well against the clear blue African sky

As a fancier of mosquitoes, Bibrons Gecko (Pachydactylus bibronii) is always welcome!

Guess who this leg belongs to? A small Leopard Tortoise (Geochelone pardalis) that I found as it was leaving its hibernation retreat ... perhaps a little early in the year, but maybe it could sense the rain coming?

Uncle Mark admiring the very large Rain Spider that took up residence in my brother's bedroom

Klipspringers are nimble little antelope that are perfectly adapted to living on the steepest rocky slopes. When alarmed they will let out a series of stiff snorts before taking off up a nearly vertical cliff.

The hunters and Jet the tracking dog look for Eland.

Periodically, the bush is burnt before the summer arrives. If timing is good, rains will fall shortly after the fires and give the new grass a good kick start. A week after this fire, green shoots were already showing and then thirty mm of rain fell, so there should be a good crop of grass. Some areas, like here, are often choked with Sickle Bush (Dichrostachys cinerea ssp. africana), which forms an impenetrable thicket; fire apparently helps to control it.

A giraffe on Shabala - the neighbouring farm.

An inquisitive Kudu cow.

A banded mongoose, along with nineteen friends, sleeps under one of the tin water reservoirs. Every day after hunting they return in the early evening to laze and play in the rays of the setting sun before retiring to the safety of their burrow. After some time, they became quite used to me and carried on with their antics just a few metre from the camera lens.

Sunset at the local fishing lake where Carp, Sharptoothed catfish and Tilapia can be expected.

We managed to get out for some fishing on the local Crocodile River and on a lake where these magnificent Tilapia took some worm baits. Locally known as Blue Kurper, they are probably the best eating amongst local freshwater fish. Down on the river, Catfish were also pretty keen to take fish and dove baits. A rogue Serrated Hinged Terrapin of around four kg also took a liking to my bait.

Spring lilies flowering.

This lovely little scorpion decided the kid's dirty clothes was a good place to live. Luckily it was spotted before being able to sting someone.

My grandfather built the house around sixty years ago and the now-mature Jacaranda trees show off their mauve flowers every spring. Huge bougainvilleas add bright pinks to the scene.

A fairly new sight on the farm is the herd of Zebra. They seem to have settled in well.

Kudu bulls - Kings of the Bushveld

Kakadu dreams..A Croc, a Doc and a Barra! pt 4. click older post at foot of page to move back

2011-09-04T15:47:00.000-07:00

On the last cast and the last snag of the morning this Barramundi decided to put in an appearance. It was a fine moment as Dr. Keith and I had started salivating hours before and had all but given up the chance of a BBQ fish lunch. After half an hour in the coals the skin peeled back to reveal perfectly cooked Barra!

The river looking fine in the early evening light. This was a point of much activity during the day and even more so during the dark hours when a torch shone in the water would reveal scores of small Barra and various other fish. Late at night a large crocodile fed on the plentiful fish supplies but unfortunately I never saw him in the act!

Shoals of Tarpon couldn't resist the surface lures. Usually they would flash behind the lure before actually hitting it. Hooking up was another matter altogether!

A chug bug gave the doctor his first surface caught Barramundi.

A better stamp of Barra was found in the deeper water. Plenty of submerged snags always guaranteed a heart stopping fight and tested the tackle to a maximum.

Sneaky salt water crocodiles never seemed to be far away and the slap of the rubber frog landing in the water seemed to be work like a dinner bell. This one swam thirty metres directly towards me to investigate the disturbance.

It was a different experience to fish from a boat after ten days of walking the banks. Although much easier the fishing seemed to be far less productive.

Fire baked Barra for lunch.

In certain areas of the river Paper Bark leaves and flowers formed a floating surface mat and prevented fishing.

A frog hunting tree snake that moved effortlessly through the branches of a tree when I approached. Surprising not many snakes were about. Possibly the adverse
effect of Cane toads is the reason. Apparently the local goannas have taken a massive population crash thanks to the toad infestation.

This lovely deep corner was inhabited by a shoal of average sized Barra, a couple of big Sooty grunter and a shoal of small catfish.

The river held some very good mullet but as usual with mullet, they weren't playing ball. I briefly hooked one on a soft plastic crayfish lure which was by far the closest I came to success. These nice specimens completely ignored my perfectly laid trap!

A pleasant time of day when the when the heat quickly dissipated giving way to the coolness of the night. Perfect time to throw a line!

The scourge of the northern territory! If the mosquitoes weren't hammering me then these delightful little ants would get stuck in and have a go. People say they are pretty good to eat which is exactly what I'll be doing next time one bites me - a taste of it's own medicine;)

The resident wallabies were unused to seeing humans and were pretty curious when they saw me flicking lures. usually they would hop a little way off and continue grazing.

This buzzard enjoyed a dead Barra I put out near a shallow billabong. After sitting in a tree for two hours he eventually came down, chased the resident crow away and fed while his mate kept watch.

Shallow glides provided ideal crocodile free spots to cool off and have a wash.

Australia's enemy: the Cane toad. As night fell an army of toads emerged - so many it was pointless to destroy them.

A fine example of an Archer fish that wasn't put off by a relatively large lure.

A close up showing a big Saratoga lightly hooked in the scissors. The design is specialised to feeding from the surface. Powerful jaws, upturned mouth and eyes close to the top of the head all help to put the odds in the favour of the fish and not the prey.

Saratoga damage after three days fishing. The big ones clamped down hard on the lures which combined with their hard mouths mean hook ups often only lasted a few seconds. A couple of firm strikes helped drive the hooks home.

A fizzer after a day of fishing

After four days of being in the bush I had eaten enough food to at least be able to push my bicycle to new hunting grounds. It was still highly overloaded which combined with the rough roads was a recipe for disaster. After fishing a stretch for a couple of days I would move ten kilometres downstream to start exploring new water.

A good place to hide from crocodiles

Kakadu dreams..In search of new waters. pt 3

2011-09-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

After the loss of the Heddon baby torpedo, I brought out the back-up lure; River 2 sea tango prop! A lovely, noisy little surface fizzer that quickly caught the attention of the river's inhabitants. This big Saratoga mistook it for something tasty. Note how unscathed the body still is!

After a few days on the river I managed to hurt my right leg, probably from jumping down a bank. It meant limping was the order of the day and after the first move of camp downstream I was pretty stuffed after pushing the bike for 10km. The weather was warming up too, which seemed to bring out many more blood-sucking March flies, which I wasn't really in the mood for! So a short siesta was in order.

As I passed a big Paper Bark swamp, I noticed a group of pigs working the margins, so I quietly sat down under a tree and watched as they came around the swamp in my direction. That's sometimes the beauty of the bicycle - it's quiet so you can come and go undetected whereas in a car it's usually over before you know what's around the corner. Eight adult pigs and 4 piglets intently dug and nosed the swamp until they were 40 yards from me. As you can imagine, being feral animals, they are not overly popular, particularly in the national parks. Along with the pigs, water buffalo and horses cause a significant amount of damage to the ecology of the park, so in the last decades culling programs have been introduced. Although many thousands of buffalo have been removed, judging by the spoors, many still remain.

Even if my bike had been less loaded and if my leg had been less painful, I probably would have still pushed for 50km on this track. An extremely uneven surface has resulted from buffalo wandering around on the clay in the wet season. Some short patches were smooth sand, but these were few and far between. At least I could pass the time counting numerous trees :)

I passed many swamps on my search for new fishing grounds and most were decorated with a few different types of water lily. These small flowers covered an area of a couple of hectares; a pretty sight indeed amongst the surrounding dry, brown bushscape.

My trusty bike that has so far carried me for 20,000 km around the world. A little overloaded at this point!!

Although the river wasn't particularly deep, I chose to remove my luggage to cross instead of pushing. The track on the far bank was deep bull dust (fine dust) that loves to stick to wet things. Not good for the drive chain so worth the extra effort to cross. It also seemed pretty crocodile safe, which was good, otherwise I could easily have waited for a day before a car came to help me across.

To find the river again meant leaving the track and pushing through the bush for a km or two - sometimes open and easy, like here, and sometimes thick making it hard going. However, Graham had found some very detailed maps for me and had also lent me his GPS, which made things a lot easier. At least I wasn't stabbing in the dark, but had a fair idea of where I was heading.

Early morning trying to get over a night of mosquito trauma. My tent zip had given up on me the evening before after long service of maybe 700+ nights. Not bad going, and it had to happen sooner or later, but next to a Kakadu swamp wasn't the best place for it to break. At least Graham had left me a can of RID ... I owe you one mate!

Finding a fishing spot was often hard along the deep stretches of the river. Twisted bamboo thickets and other thick vegetation often cloaked the river bank, but where it was possible to make a cast, a hook-up would usually result. There was always the thought of sneaky, sly crocodiles watching me, so one spot would never be fished for too long or too regularly. The idea of getting plucked from the bank and dragged into the river was always on my mind so I stood in trees, hopefully far enough out of reach! On the Adelaide river there are famous jumping crocodiles tempted out for the tourists. Seeing those photos made me realise I was probably in easy reach for our reptilian friends, so maybe I'm just very lucky or too skinny for them to take an interest?
This lovely Saratoga was the second to take a liking to my home made spinner. NICE!

One day when I was idly lying around avoiding the hot sun at siesta time I spotted the Simpson's toxic fish lure hanging from my handle bar bag. Marion had given it to me back in Perth and, looking at it now, I started to wonder what would happen if I threw in the river. So I rigged it with a couple of Owner hooks and headed down to the water. It turned out to be a fairly effective surface lure and, after 20 strikes in around an hour, I was convinced! Unfortunately hook-ups weren't happening very often, probably due to it's shape, so I went back to the fizzer.

A decent Barramundi that took a liking to the toxic fish

The colours start to show on a fine Sooty Grunter as the sun begins to set

The insect life was rich along the river. This Praying Mantis came for a closer look at what I was up to and decided to clean its legs whilst sitting on my arm. The diversity of spiders was also vast and everywhere I looked a new variety would appear, usually on the lookout for prey. Not everyone's cup of tea, but paradise for me!

The Shallows, late evening. The great beauty of the river here is that there are many crossing points where the crocodiles can't make a surprise attack. I was convinced, though, that every night a crocodile moved into this area to feed on the abundant fish. I can't believe a kg Barra can make a splash like a man jumping into the river so must have been crocy. It was always late and I was always tucked up in bed and too lazy to go on midnight crocodile forays.

A lovely looking Archer Fish that had to have the little spinner

I quickly took this shot a moment after a crocodile had tried to annihilate my trusty frog. I got the distinct impression he didn't like the plop plop plop noise the frog kept making as it swam over his head. The strike caused a rather impressive splash and at the same moment I struck the lure out of the way.

Kakadu dreams. Saratoga madness. pt 2

2011-09-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

The more I explored the river the more potential started to show itself and good Saratoga like this one started regularly hitting the lures! Sometimes on every cast a fish would break the surface and try its hardest to chomp the lure. A step up to the rubber frog meant only the bigger fish would have a chance to get hooked..oh and crocodiles! After a while I discovered that often a few casts would be needed to draw the fish from their snaggy retreats. In one particular spot after maybe ten retrieves a crocodile suddenly appeared on the surface, in the path of froggy! I of course found this interesting and continued to wind the lure towards me...and as the lure passed by..SLAM the crocodile tried his best to nail it. In a spray of white water I jerked the rod and the scum frog flew to freedom! I'd already lost one lure to a reptilian friend and wasn't quite ready to part with the frog! He still had some work to do..

One of the better Barramundi that took a liking to the little surface lure. It seems the Baby Torpedo is just perfect for fish of this size to engulf easily!

After a few days of testing some different lures on the river I became convinced that an inline spinner would be absolutely devastating. I had tried to buy a spinner in the shops in Darwin but no one seemed to stock them - the closest I came was a spinner bait. So around siesta time when fishing was low and it was too hot to be poking around in the bush I set about building a spinner. A little length of 100lb wire leader, a spinner bait blade, a few crimps and hey presto a lovely spinner was ready for testing in the shallows! First cast and this lovely Saratoga was all over the spinner along with three of his mates.

Next cast and this feisty little Sooty Grunter had a go. Next two casts and two Barra took the spinner! not bad for a quick DIY lure. Further testing would follow later in the day!

As the sun began to sink towards the western horizon over the big paper bark swamp I made my way from camp downstream to the deeper darker water armed with my new spinner. First cast into the deep water and immediately a bow appeared heading in the direction of the little lure. After a solid hit this beautiful Saratoga erupted through the water's surface and cartwheeled through the air. Somehow the little hooks I had chosen for the spinner didn't bend and also held in the fish's hard toothy jaw, and after a few minutes of battle my prize and dream lay on the bank. Not bad for a makeshift lure.

Colours of the Saratoga

Another good Archer Fish nails the torpedo

And a big Sooty Grunter decided to venture from his hideout in a clear pool to check out the surface commotion...Big mistake!

A deeper pool on the river - home to a good shoal of Barramundi and big Mullet

A good chunky Barramundi that also couldn't resist the temptation to have a go at the surface lure. I will remember the sound of the take for a while..no gentle sipping from this fish. Just an all out engulfing munch.

Another game little Barra from a clear pool under the paper bark trees. The thick, rich but subtle smell of the paper bark flowers drifted down the river everyday and intensified as the day cooled towards the evening. I began to understand why come night time the bats were excited. The sweet smell must have been driving them wild all day. Come night time they were desperate for the honey.

The design of the Barramundi....very well suited to sucking frogs and beasties from the water's surface. Sometimes at night the volume of some'boofs' was incredible. I think even a mouse would be a target if he made the unwise decision to swim the river.

A Barramundi's eye is large and very sensitive. Even on the darkest of nights potential Barra snacks won't be safe. The Barra will see and sense with very little difficulty

Saratoga have evolved as surface feeding machines. A huge mouth and small sharp teeth mean few frogs will escape. Usually with these fish they eat first and ask questions later. On quite a few occasions they had eaten my lure before I had even shut the bail arm! Now that's pretty keen..maybe verging on being greedy!

Kakadu dreams...arrival in Barradise! Pt 1

2011-09-04T14:57:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I arrived in what can only be described as a true paradise. For fisherman, nature lovers and someone looking for peace and quiet the place I was in would be hard to beat. For me then, it couldn't get much better and immediately I fell in love with this pristine part of the Australian wilderness. First impressions and there seemed to be everything that might be expected; a crystal clear gold lined river teaming with fish, vast flocks of noisy colourful birds and a host of other interesting wildlife to help fill the long days. Adjacent to the river highly populated billabongs and swamps provided another rich habitat which also had to be explored. The question was would the food I had last long enough for me to enjoy the full experience of the place.

At this point I must give a big thanks to Graham who has kindly invited me to stay with him in Darwin. Graham recommended the spot I describe, and even gave me a lift out there in his pick up truck, stayed a night and then left me and the bike to fend for ourselves for the next two weeks. And what a two weeks it turned out to be. Hundred of fish climbed my line and when this wasn't happening I met with crocodiles, buffalo and wild pigs. Turtles dived when I quietly came along the river bank and the big mullet evaded me for the full duration. At night thousands of noisy flying foxes spread out from their bamboo roosts and gorged themselves on the flowers of huge Paper bark trees that line the river. So much happened in such a short time, so hope I can do it a little justice here with my photos and a few words. I feel truly blessed to have gone to this beautiful place, and know one day I will be back. And I suspect it won't have changed. The water will still be pure, the wallabies unconcerned by my presence and the fish as game as ever.

We arrived at our chosen camping spot and I tried very hard to control the instinct to drop everything, grab the rod and start casting the lure. After all there was a camp to arrange! When it came to the crunch there was no point in fighting the urge and within a few minutes hard fighting silver Barramundi and lively Saratoga were hitting my lures.

Immediately below where we camped, the shallow river gave way to a deeper hole on the far side, into which I flicked a small rubber crayfish. As it fell through the water column and before I started reeling- bang!- this Saratoga engulfed it, flew out of the water and put a huge smile on my face! I was really hoping to get one, so it was a pretty good start, and little did I know how many more I would catch in the coming days!

It wasn't long before Graham and I headed up stream to explore some of the river. Shallows run a long way before the deeps but sometimes a pool can be found that might be full of fish. Clear sweet water and golden river sand make it easy to see the fishy inhabitants but somehow I missed this 7-8 foot crocodile that was lying in a mere 15 inches of water directly under my feet! Sneaky ba*$?*d..Too engrossed in the fishing it was a valuable lesson that a crocodile might be in the last place one expects to see it. And it also reminds you how unbelievably sneaky they are..did I mention that? In deeper murkier water there would be ZERO chance to spot one even if it lay inches away. Being a salt water model he could quite easily have chosen to bite my foot off, but luckily was obviously in a pretty good mood and rather chose to move off upstream towards his deeper water.

A pretty poor photo but you can get the idea of where the crocodile was trying to hide. We must have surprised him so there was no other option for him but to try and remain invisible..

Every spot with slightly deeper water produced fish. Lying under this bamboo snag was a shoal of small Barra that took much delight in eating the rubber shad that landed on their plates. Hard fighting little fish that usually put on a jumping show to try and rid the hooks. After a few, we moved on up the river to see what lay around the next corner. Always too tempting to move!

Another immaculate Barra that took a liking to the small white shad! A classic Barra lure that shouldn't be left at home!

As the sun started dropping, Sooty Grunter started to put in an appearance. Unbelievable fighters that try hard until the end. Every specimen regardless of the size puts on the underwater cartwheels leading the angler to believe he has a much larger fish on the line. NICE!! A steady stream of big Grunters went for the lures!

The OX eyed Tarpon also regularly put in an appearance much to my delight. Super fast multiple strikes indicated by flashing silver behind the lure would announce their arrival but then it was pretty much luck if one would actually hook itself. Super energetic fighters, jumping multiple times and usually gaining their freedom after a split second!

Graham with a better Barramundi lured with a soft plastic.

I was starting to wonder about archer fish when this absolute cracker nailed my Heddon Baby Torpedo. I had seen small fish swimming in the margins but never any bigger specimens. I put a cast to some submerged bamboo in a deep section of the river and the lure got whacked almost immediately! For their size also true fighters!

Head shot of Archer fish. With deadly accuracy this fish can shoot insects down from trees with a high powered jet of water!

As the sun dropped below the horizon on the first day we came across a Barra nest. Good fish hit the lures on every cast. Pulling a spinner bait on the surface I had five big surface strikes in five casts. The single hook was obviously finding it hard to get purchase but on the sixth cast this 'fish of the day' 'boofed' the lure and got well and truly hooked. By this time I had asked Graham to film the moment - so soon maybe I will get the clips on youtube! After this experience surface lures were the go, starting with the Heddon Baby Topedo who took a real hammering over the next few days!

Not far downstream from the first camp, where the thick bamboo started and the shallow water gave way to the deeps, the fruit bats roosted. Thousands upon thousands dangling upside down from the bamboo stalks, gently fanning themselves through the midday heat. The smell would hit you from some distance and as you got closer the bats would wake, and maybe if they could be bothered, noisily flap to the far bank before settling down once again.

Plenty of snakes chose to live by the river, feasting on the abundance of frogs that emerge at night. I mainly saw tree snakes but more often than not it was their old skins, left on a conveniently rough tree. Up in the dry savannah the death adders lived, but as usual I could only find their tracks and plenty of those. But never the snake!

Behind my camp up on the flood plain a huge swamp dotted with Paper bark trees covered a big area. Egrets, herons, whistling ducks, Magpie geese and Jabiru all spend the days here picking off small fish, frogs and the juicy vegetation. Unfortunately to get good photos of any of these birds was very hard without a long lens or a hide out on the swamp. This was quite possibly where the million mosquitoes that visited me every night originated from!

A very decent Grunter who took a liking to the white shad

On the second evening I returned to the Barra hot spot armed with surface lures and had some incredible fishing. Ten good Barra like this, one after the other, each hitting the lure like it was possibly the last frog in the world! Boofing marvellous.

My trusted Heddon Baby Torpedo after a hard evening of getting whacked by good Barra. Battered and bruised he needed a good service before the next trip! I became pretty attached to this little beauty as everything in the river seemed to fancy eating him! Retirement was close for him and a few days after this photo was taken, when most of the paint had been removed by the fish, I took that decision but too late unfortunately. One morning I stumbled out of my tent at that magic time of day, grabbed the rod and walked 50 yards upstream to two submerged trees. A very fishy spot and I remember thinking that if the torpedo was going to go here would be the place. Plop, plop plop....smash and big hefty Barra powered off under the tree. A couple of confusing seconds and it was all over; the lure of the trip had been taken, much to my disgust. I returned and sulked in my tent for a while and only really got over the incident a day later!! RIP little lure!

Food stock for two weeks! With the luxury of arriving by vehicle I could bring plenty of food. Problem was I couldn't move on the bike until I had eaten a good chunk of the excess weight, which took 4 days!

Walking to spend the night 10km upstream. Just with the bare essentials. Two tins of baked beans, a fruit cake, fishing equipment, sleeping bag, camera and inner tent to keep mozzies at bay. Oh and a Snickers!

A fine Sooty Grunter that couldn't resist the upgraded Torpedo!

Huge flocks of whistling duck over a billabong near the camp.

Up into Litchfield national park

2011-08-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

The last three posts cover the preceding month's cycling across northern Australia on the way to Darwin. Because of some bad roads, I decided that it would be best to send the laptop and some other unneeded gear ahead with Simon who is travelling in his car. Thanks very much mate for taking the time to drop the bags off in Darwin and thanks to Nadine (apparently the best vet in Darwin) for receiving them! Because I want to leave the city fairly soon, to save time I will just caption the pictures for now and write some more later on. It's certainly been a very interesting stretch of the trip thanks to changing landscapes, interesting people and big crocodiles that seem to like eating fishermen. Hope everyone enjoys the north of Australia as much as I have.

For months and months I've been trying to get a decent picture of a rainbow Bee Eater (Merops ornatus) and finally, after only coming across restless pairs, one decided to sit quietly and have his photo taken. This was shortly after I arrived in Darwin on one of beaches that surround the city. A network of bike paths cross the city and also skirt the coast, which is very convenient if you want to go fishing on your bike!

Mikael Lavorel whom I met on the road to Katherine. Something of a legend, Mikael has clocked up 40 000 km pedalling from France to Australia. We sat together, made coffee and shared stories of cycling in far away places like Tajikistan. It was a welcome relief from a bit of a dull day and I left our meeting feeling very content. Unfortunately for Mikael he had a headwind to ride against, but still seemed happy because he could relax after months of heavy attention from the people in Asia. I had become used to the open roads and relaxing cycling, but still it was a novelty to Mikael!

See Mikael's web page at mikael.lavorel.free.fr

Cycling through Litchfield national park just south of Darwin I was lucky enough to see this setting sun. Smoke from bush fires in the area intensified the sun's colour, which became a deep red as it dropped closer to the horizon. The photo doesn't do it justice, unfortunately. It was a beautiful evening to be out on the road and lots of wallabies bounded for cover as I passed through the savannah country. Screeching parrots and galahs wheeled and screamed overhead breaking the silence as they headed for their roosts. The peacefulness was slightly marred by a vast battalion of mosquitoes that arrived after sunset. Before I realised how bad they would be, the idea came to climb a low hill where, maybe, things would be a little quieter. A very very steep 'service' track ran up the hill which I followed for 25 minutes. Having only made 200 metres, and soaked with sweat from head to toe, I decided to stop and sleep on a vaguely flat bit of hillside. After 30 seconds the mosquitoes arrived and, once again, I think I broke the record for putting up my tent before launching myself inside. Only once before had I seen so many mozzies - and was back in Georgia. After killing the 50 or so in the tent I decided cooking was a bad idea so stayed zipped up and ate some peanuts. At three in the morning it started raining which meant I had to venture out to put the fly sheet on the tent. Another million mozzies in the tent and, of cours,e it stopped raining after 17 drops had fallen. Ten minutes later, with all the little whining blood suckers killed, I tried to get back to sleep, but proved tricky thanks to tussocks of grass under my mattress! It really wasn't a very good night and after that I decided not to climb any more hills!

Another evening, whilst looking for a decent camp spot, I came across a lovely little creek that demanded to be camped by - a little oasis in the dry savannah. I pushed the bike a little way off the road and set up the tent under a big tree close enough to the burbling water to be serenaded to sleep. As the last rays of sunlight left the sky a bunch of dingos began to howl their mournful cry in the distance. I had got pretty used to dingos howling but never had they come to bother me in the night and this night was the same. After cooking, while washing the pot by the stream, I noticed many little orange eyes milling around in the water. turned out to belong to a tribe of yabbies - small, freshwater crayfish that I had heard about, but had never caught. These definitely needed a closer look, but because I had no bait I had to chase some high speed, long-jumping frogs until I managed to sacrifice one for the cause. As soon as the bait hit the bottom of the creek a crayfish approached and took hold with its claws. Extracting it from the creek proved a bit tricky because, when they neared the bank, defence mechanisms would make sure their claws opened. Eventually I figured they could be pinned down to the creek bed with the end of the rod and I could catch them behind the head. After an hour or so of cray fishing the excitement began to wear off and I called it a night, or at least, I thought I did. A scratching noise prevented me from dropping off to sleep so, eventually, I figured something was in my panniers stealing food. Reluctantly I got up and made a search but found nothing. Same again ... scratch scratch scratch ... but this time, after a proper search, I found the culprit! Mr mouse was in there having a lovely time and, luckily for him, I was half asleep and not in the mood to use him as bait. In the early morning when I climbed out of the tent, a dingo passed heading to a quiet place to sleep up. Surprisingly it hadn't bothered me in the night.

In most of Australia unplanned bush fires can be a big problem so these signs help people assess the fire risk. I'd be tempted to always leave the arrow on catastrophic if I was the ranger!

Litchfield national park, NT. And what they call a Cathedral termite mound. In the right areas the bush is littered with with these piles of mud! pretty impressive stuff considering the size of the inhabitants. This one measured over 5 metres and was one of the tallest I have come across.

As I have travelled further north and the climate has warmed billabongs have become more common. As the monsoonal waters retreat shallow areas may hold water, or possible a spring will keep the ground wet enough for lillies and other water plants to grow. Like an oasis in the bush they attract vast amounts of birds, water monitors and crocodiles. I had to wade out to take this photo, so had a beady eye open for any lurking crocs, which as it happened weren't home.

Tomer Falls in Litchfield national park is a beautiful spot where hundreds of rare bats tend to hang out thanks to the constant temperature in the caves.

I kept seeing crocodile warning signs (see below) by small jungle clad creeks that the road passed over. It was hard not to investigate the prospect of a huge croc in such a small stream, but after quite a few kilometres only one water monitor was my reward. Plenty of dancing butterflies, wallabies and noisy birds kept me company but no big scaly reptiles were about unfortunately. It was pretty hot and sweaty so here I was having a bit of a cool off.

Savannah flowers and palms In litchfield around a year after a fire came through

One evening I found this lovely creek to camp beside and the thought of cooling off after a long day on the bike was too much. After a crocodile survey of the area I decided this pool was the one to lie in and enjoy my evening cup of tea!

Plenty of signs like this up here but still some people don't seem all that convinced that there are crocodiles in some water ways!

This is the first decent Sooty Grunter I caught and what a battler! In the clear water of the Finniss River I saw him come up and nail the lure close to the bank and for the next few seconds all I could do was hold on as the fish made powerful dashes for submerged timber. Somehow It didn't get to refuge so unfortunately for it ended up as breakfast!

These grave yard like scene is a collection of magnetic termite mounds, aligned for temperature regulation and only found in spots that become water logged in the wet season. Quite an incredible place which I've been waiting to see for a long time.

Magnetic Termite mounds, NT

Wangi Falls in Litchfield National Park. Overrun with tourists but pretty all the same. Met one guy that was convinced that the falls had opened in the last week because the water level had dropped sufficiently enough for safe swimming. He wouldn't believe that a few weeks ago there was probably a dirty great crocodile in there that needed trapping. Clear of crocs now there is nothing whatsoever to stop one entering at night time so never be the first guy to swim in the morning!

Golden swimming hole in the NT

As I passed the Finniss river just outside the Northern boundary of Litchfield national park I met Dion and Mitch. Brothers, Bush experts, fishermen, travellers, crocodile handlers and throughly good guys I ended up staying with them for the next four nights. A generator powered a light, fridge and laptop which were all a novelty for me but having done 12 laps of Australia living bush it means the guys can work on making their films and have a cold beer occasionally. Fountains of knowledge: - the days were spent telling stories, filming wildlife, fishing and exploring our surrounds. We noticed some tourists fishing above our camp who seemed very unconcerned about the crocodiles that may be inhabiting the river. They obviously hadn't seen the three metre specimen that spent its days sunbathing a hundred yards from their fishing spot. Mitch politely warned them of the danger and it wasn't long before they decided that standing 6 inches from the water's edge advertising yourself as a crocodile's lunch was not the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon!

I headed out on the first morning for a fish and soon had a lively little Barra tuck into my lure. Small and feisty he cartwheeled and flipped his way to freedom in a matter of seconds. Intimate fishing to say the least..creep through the bank side vegetation until a suitable snag presents itself where surely a fish must be lying up. A short underarm flick to get the lure out into the crystal water before a steady retrieve, which will quickly have any residents after the tasty little plastic fish. It wasn't long until the first decent Sooty Grunter whacked into the minnow lure and did its best to retreat back to its snag ridden home. Bully boy tactics were called for to stop the olive green beauty from hanging me up in the structure. Checking for crocodiles I soon had my prize hoisted up for a mug shot. As it was still early in the day it meant breakfast would be simple. Roast fish on the coals before another sortie down the river.

Dion with a little Javelin fish that couldn't resist trying a lure!

The business end of a Sooty grunter. At the moment undoubtedly my favourite fish thanks to its mangrove jack like fighting ability and good looks. Fail to stop him getting into the snags in the first second and you might as well say goodbye to your lure and fish!

The Finniss River next to our camp. Shallows and pools giving way to deeper water which is thickly cloaked with bamboo and Pandanus. Any one that thinks fishing is a lazy man's sport should fish here! Often to move from one spot to the next means dropping onto ones stomach and sliding through the tangle of bamboo. It's not everybody's cup of tea but so worth it to reach that beautiful fishy looking snag.

I was still half asleep while flicking my lure until this Grunter gave me a good wake up call when it slammed into my white x-rap!

Good bush tucker from the river. Cherabin (freshwater prawn) and Yabby (crayfish)

Kununurra and around with Graz fraz!

2011-08-12T19:48:00.000-07:00

The Gibb River Road Challenge

2011-08-12T19:28:00.001-07:00

The Gibb River road; 650km of dirt track running through the wilderness of the Kimberley region in Western Australia. From the start near the town of Derby, whose claim to fame is for having the highest tides in Australia, there is nothing apart from a couple of petrol stations until one reaches the large town of Kununurra. Huge cattle stations, often of over a million acres found along the road offer stays, but being set many kilometres from the track are usually out of reach of most cyclists. Built back in the fifties for the beef trade the road has become increasingly popular for four wheel drive tourists in recent years. Unfortunately for me and any other cyclists high speed land cruisers are never far away and my vision of being the only person on the Gibb soon evaporated as I was regularly showered with gravel and dust. Being there in the school holidays didn't help either.

The Gibb River road at its best before the motor tourists have had a chance to extract themselves from the campsites. I loaded up with food in Derby and planned to make it through to Kununurra without buying more supplies. The two road houses, Imintji and Mt Barnett were well stocked with food but inflated prices meant I was happy with my decision to carry a heavy load of food. I settled with a cold coke. The beauty of the Gibb is that finding water is rarely a problem as small creeks are common where bottles may be filled.

The road's surface varied from smooth hard packed clay, to corrugated gravel and through to patches of soft sand where pushing was required. Luckily the sandy areas were few and far between while the corrugations spread for most of the length of the road. Nothing too major apart from a side road that led down to the famous Windjana gorge. It sounded like shouldn't miss this spot so I made the twenty three km side trip only to find a virtually unridable road. And at the end a pretty gorge swarmed by a million tourists. Although pretty, I was hoping for wilderness without hoards of people so after the day cooled I pushed back to the main road in the dark. The idea of seeing those corrugations again wasn't too inviting!

large and grotesquely formed termite mounds are common in Western Australia and provide a convenient place to lean the bike. Because the days were pretty hot while I was on the Gibb early starts were the plan. Cycling as the sun began to rise meant some peace and quiet before traffic started flying past. I'd usually have a couple of hours until the first dust cloud would appear in the distance. Approximately 100-150 vehicles would pass each day, most at break neck speeds. Some kind people would stop for a chat and offer some water or something to eat and even cold beer on a couple of occasions. This of course was most appreciated. But most would speed by while clicking photos from the window. It must be hard being trapped in such a fast moving world that even when you are out in the wilderness you can't slow down a little.

Windjana Gorge; nice spot but overcrowded with tourists. I heard a group talking about the freshwater Crocodiles that inhabit the creek. 'I wonder where they have all gone...there used to be loads here'. Maybe they had left because hundreds of people passed within a few feet of their home each day. Just a sneaky suspicion. Fossils found in the rocks indicate a giant crocodile used to live in the area back in the age of the dinosaurs.

It warmed up towards midday so I took advantage of any road side water for a cool off dip. Most creeks were clean and still flowing but some were already slowing to a trickle. I stripped off and jumped into this slightly green pool finding instant refreshment after a few hard hours on the dusty road. As I cooled down an adventure bus carrying thirty people passed and must have found the sight particularly interesting; Naked man in the middle of nowhere with no transport!

Surprisingly some tourists towed their caravans over the Gibb. Although designed for off roading, the caravans must take a massive hammering and be a constant worry for the driver. I kept trying to figure out what's wrong with a good old tent?

Camp spots on the Gibb River road could often be found by cool water holes. Under a starry sky frogs and crickets would serenade me to sleep. The local mozzies that carry such diseases as Murray river fever meant it was better to sleep in the tent rather than take the preferred option of open air. At least with the water close by it meant unlimited tea on tap!

Some areas of the road became quite rough with sharp gravel. The bike tyre were ok but it seemed the vehicles didn't fare quite so well. Often I would see shredded tyres discarded in the bush and once I came across a couple whose rear tyre was cut to pieces. They had no idea how to change the wheel so I did it for them. A cold coke was offered for my trouble as I wondered what they were doing out in the middle of nowhere without even basic mechanical knowledge! Luckily for them it seems these days in Australia help is usually just around the corner.

The Gibb stretches off to the horizon. I had to rush in my own way as unfortunately supplies were limited. A hundred kilometres per day was average which guaranteed a good sleep at the end of the day.

Strung along the Gibb are a series of fabulous gorges which is a welcoming sight to a parched cyclist. It seems in the past camping was allowed but thanks to inconsiderate tourists leaving litter it has been banned. Sometimes on the bicycle there is no other option but to stay where you are when darkness falls and a couple of times I was near a beautiful gorge.

Adcock Gorge is a truly stunning spot in the Kimberley. Fresh cool water tumbles ten metres to a perfect swimming hole before dropping down a series of cascades into the creek below. For those who look carefully shoals of small fish can be seen in the deep dark water while high above agile rock wallabies make their homes on the orange cliffs. The bird life around the water is rich; many species of parrot frequent the area while ubiquitous Galahs and Correllas arrive every evening in a great cacophony to prepare for sleep. Quieter birds such as honey eaters flit amongst the trees looking for their sugary food. I arrived late at the gorge and was greeted by a full moon rising above the surrounding hills which bathed the area in a pure white light. Swimming in the moonlight in the quiet of the Kimberley was something to remember.

cycling western Australia: Broome to Derby

2011-08-12T19:05:00.002-07:00

Western Australia photos..full update soon from Darwin

2011-07-07T03:34:00.001-07:00

Kalbarri Fishing and some other less important photos!

2011-06-11T05:35:00.000-07:00

Up and away past Dongara..

2011-06-07T05:17:00.001-07:00

Lloyd Lyons, Fisherman extraordinaire with a decent Dhu fish taken on a soft plastic

Before reaching Kalbarri I stopped in Dongara for a few day where I hoped to go fishing with Lloyd, who is a bit of a local pro fisherman. Ben from Perth had put me in touch with Lloyd who seemed quite keen to meet up for a fish when I arrived in town. Seven days or so after leaving Perth and 500km or so with pretty sore legs I reached Dongara and arranged to meet up with Lloyd on Saturday afternoon for a fish. The evening before, I flicked lures from the breakwall and, although conditions looked good, nothing was kind enough to take the lures.

Elsie with the first Dhu of the session!

Saturday afternoon couldn't come quick enough! I met Lloyd outside Dongara backpackers and could immediately see that I was in the hands of a pro! Or should I say, two, as Elsie, Lloyd's girlfriend was joining us out on the water. Lloyd's boat is fully set up for some serious fishing, with all the bases covered. The fact that Lloyd is also a lure addict meant we were in for a good time. Like me, chucking soft plastics is Lloyd's passion and, with slightly different backgrounds, it seemed we could learn a lot from each other. Fishing soft plastics from the boat is relatively new to me so it was pretty interesting to be under the guidance of a master. Most of my experience has been land-based soft plastics, so it would be a fast learning curve.

The weather was looking pretty good for us as we left the boat ramp in Dongara and headed out to a few of Lloyd's prefered Dhu spots. Dhu fish were our main target with other possibles being Baldchin Groper, Sambos, Breaksea Cod, Pink Snapper and Skippy, amongst others. I was desperately hoping to latch into a good Dhu after hearing so much of this iconic West Australian species.

After 30 minutes or so of motoring we reached the first spot and were soon dropping soft plastics down to the reef below. Lloyd's selection of soft plastics was vast to say the least so the hardest bit was to select a likely looking customer to stick on the jig head! Play it safe and follow the advice of the skipper, I reckon! A small green and orange softy went on my hook and was hastily dropped overboard!

Elsie with the second Dhu of the trip. Two-nil to the girls!

In true tradition, the girl was into the first fish! Not even five minutes had passed when Elsie announced that a half decent fish had nailed her little rubber lure. Very soon I saw my first Dhu fish, and what a beauty it was. Not big by Dhuie standards, but very beautiful indeed. A quick mugshot and soon it was back in the water. Elsie was soon into the second fish of the trip - a slightly bigger Dhu! So it seemed that the boys were getting a good lesson in the art of angling! Lloyd was soon in on the action as he played the third Dhuie to the boat. Like the first two, it was quickly returned to its mates down below.

Lloyd had this good Skippy (Silver Trevally) nail his curly tail

Next, a fine looking Skippy fell to Lloyd's rod and quickly after that he hooked a good sized Breaksea Cod. Elsie was then into another Dhu fish slightly bigger than the previous ones - all in beautiful condition, shining bright in the afternoon sun. Unfortunately I wasn't off the mark yet. A missed couple of bites was all I had to go on plus a couple of deep teeth marks from my soft placcie. Apparently a Baldchin Groper would have been the culprit ...... often they bite, but it's a little hard to hook them up.

A Breaksea Cod that took a liking to Lloyd's soft plastic.

By the time it grew dark we had fished a few spots and must have seen at least 10 Dhu fish come to the boat. None of the monsters we had hoped for had taken the lure, but there was still a chance. Without a fish to my name I was getting desperate! Finally, my chance came after dark when I felt a tap on the rod tip followed by solid resistance! Eventually a fish - and a decent one. A couple of headshakes were followed by a short, powerful run as the fish realised it was best to make a break for it. Lloyd immediately announced that it was a big Dhu fish, surely above ten kilos. The pressure was on, but suddenly it was all over as my leader parted. So close yet so far. I couldn't believe it!! I was left a shaking wreck as I retied my leader and dropped another soft plastic. Of course, as it goes, that was the only chance of the day for me. Although I lost my first Dhuie it didn't matter as it was a great afternoon spent in excellent company. Thanks very much guys ..... hugely appreciated!

A second after I asked Lloyd whether Mulloway were a possibility and this little beauty nailed the lure. Not a monster, but perfectly formed and fun on the ultralight rod!

It seemed that if the weather was good next day we could hit the water again and I could try to get some revenge on the Dhu fish. Sunday looked OK, although the wind was up so it was touch and go whether we could get out deep. Today, it was just Lloyd and I on the boat and, as we left the harbour, we met his father coming back in. From the quick chat it seemed things weren't too good out at sea, which we confirmed after a quick run out. Instead of fishing the deep water we headed back to the harbour for some light tackle fun. And what fun it was.

One of a hundred, fine juvenile Mulloway that took the lures

Anchoring up in a proven spot, Lloyd began berlying the water with a special mix along with some chopped mulies and other goodies. The plan was to fish tiny soft plastics on light braid and light rods with target species being small Pink Snappers, Mulloway,Tailor, Skippy, Yellowtail and what ever else might come along.

Lloyd's little rod was the first to take on a good bend caused by a lively little Tailor trying it's best to get as far from the boat as possible. Next was a Yellowtail which, for its size, scrapped remarkably well. I asked Lloyd about the chance of a Mulloway and, as he finished telling me it was distinctly possible, my little lure got nailed by a pristine, baby Mulloway! The next few hours kept us extremely busy as small Pinkies, Tailor, Mulloway, Yellowtail, a small Cod, and a Gobblyguts all happily took the lures!

Ultralight rod in action...beautiful!

The Mulloway were the main suspects and by the end of the day we must have caught and released over 100 of them. As time progressed, the Mulloway came higher and higher in the water column until we could see the fish nailing the lures just below the surface. For a couple of hours the fish finder was completely blocked out by the huge shoal of fish under the boat. It was great fishing particularly with the rods balanced to the size of fish. Nothing big came along but it didn't matter as every fish gave a good account of itself. Towards the end of the session Lloyd even hooked a fish he hadn't seen before in the harbour -some sort of little mackerel sp. It was a some great fishing and, in the two sessions spend with Lloyd, I learnt a remarkable amount about Australian fishing and the use of soft plastics! A very versatile lure to say the least. Cheers Lloyd and Elsie for your hospitality! Hope I can guide you to an Indian Barra one day!!

Sunset fishing at Flat Rocks praying something big would eat the crab attached to my hook!

The ride from Dongara was a good one apart from the persisent headwind that slowed my progress. Back on the highway I had to be careful of the many road trains heading north towards the mining towns. Some abnormal loads stretched far off the edge of the trucks so it paid for me to get off the road and let them pass. Although, through communication on their CB radios, they know that I'm on the road, a mere cyclist is far too small a reason for such a big truck to slow down. Drivers are renowned for sticking to their guns and continuing at their cruising speeds unless a very pressing need to slow down presents itself.

Early evening view of Flat Rocks coastline...very fishy indeed!

After a few hours ride and 30km I planned to stop at Flat Rocks, which is a pretty popular fishing spot for a number of different species. Only a few km from the main road it was too good a spot to miss and an early stop would give me a chance to explore and fish before the sun set. The steepest hill of the trip, although short, led me up over the coastal sand dunes where, at the top, a lovely view of miles of empty coastline opened up. A good fast downhill took me down to the car park situated right on the beach. As with a lot of spots in Australia, there were dustbins and toilets and no other people. I was a little surprised to see a needle receptacle in the toilets so it seems even this pretty part of the world isn't without its problems.

A fellow touring cyclist just outside Dongara...sorry buddy can't remember your name!

Kyler ready to set out from Dongara on the yellow peril. Augusta to Darwin was the plan! All the best mate

Running north along the coast, a sandy track closely follows the rugged coastline. I followed this for half a kilometre until I came to a good looking fishing spot. I hoped I could throw lures, but with the state of the tide and the wind, it proved hard going as the wave cut platform was underwater meaning deeper water was quite a distance away. Without any bait the next best chance I had of landing a fish was by using some of the resident crabs on the hook. These I found a little way up the rocks where a load of seaweed had been pushed up onto the beach by the strong, breaking waves. Feisty to say the least, the crabs needed a good bit of pacifying before they were ready to go in the bait bucket. With dusk approaching and the big rod set up I tied a tasty looking crab to the hook and launched it towards the deeper water before setting in for a wait. I was confident in something taking the bait, but knowing from past experince that it takes a while to learn fishing spots, I knew luck would have to be on my side. Towards dusk my confidence started to wane even though it was the 'hot' time of day to be fishing. Nothing decided to bite, but the fiery sunset and camping with a view over the breaking waves made up for the lack of fish.

Sitting wondering how many fish I'm going to catch! Aahh, dreams are nice...

Luckily, travelling by bicycle, there's no need for old boy's service

Old church on the road to Geraldton

From Flat Rocks I followed the road north towards Geraldton, but it wasn't too long before I heard that heart dropping sound of air rushing from my rear tyre. A hundred metres ahead amongst trees full of screeching Corellas I saw a side road where I could stop to repair the puncture. Trying not to destroy the flat tyre, I slowly made progress up the side of the highway until I could stop next to a picturesque homestead, which upon closer inspection turned out to be the Greenough Pioneer museum. Five minutes into my fix it activities, Peter from the museum came to see if everything was OK and kindly invited me in for a cup of tea and a bite to eat, which was very much appreciated at the time.

Peter and his dogs at the Greenough Pioneer Museum

Peter and his partner Gary have been been at the museum for the last few years and, between them, with their diverse backgrounds, have really improved the place to its former glory. After tea and a interesting chat, Peter kindly showed me around the property which proved to be a fascinating experience. The cottage oozes history thanks to most of the exhibits being entirely original. The beautiful organic garden was also great to see, complete with what are thought to be the oldest Japanese Pepper Trees in Australia. In front of the property a very old eucalyptus tree still stands, or at least lies on its side, and was apparently a meeting place for generations of Aboriginals that inhabited the area.

The road from Northhampton to Kalbarri and the clouds that would soon catch up with me!

So my initial dismay at having a flat tyre led to having a great insight into Australian history as well as meeting some delightful locals whom I would have undoubtedly cycled past! With the tyre all fixed I pushed on to Geraldton where I took care of a few jobs. I happily bought the last Schwalbe Marathon Plus tyre in the bike shop, although it was hugely expensive compared to European prices. A modem was also purchased to ease getting access to the internet and a stack of food was also loaded on board for the next few days. Lastly, I headed to Tackle World to visit Lloyd and browse the fishing equipment before hitting the road again in the direction of Northhampton and Kalbarri. For the next couple of days I cycled past bush, farms and many, squawking Galahs.

Arable farms on the way to Kalbarri

On the road to Northhampton, to avoid a rainstorm, I took some shelter town under the town information sign. A kind couple passing with a caravan offered me a cup of coffee, and just before I pushed on an overheating car full of backpackers turned up to cool down. Just five minutes was needed to tour the slighty shabby but interesting town of Northhampton. After a refill of water at the local pub I was on my way again on the quieter side road towards Kalbarri. I was soon cycling through a rolling green landscape of wheat fields, some populated by Merino sheep, others just with newly sprouting wheat. All day I wondered when the black clouds that framed every big view would release their water to the earth below. I escaped for a while, until much later in the day.

Merino sheep

When the rain gods caught up with me they made sure I got a very good soaking! It wasn't such an issue early in the day while I cycled past the pink lake of Port Gregory, as there was still time to dry whilst clocking up some more kilometres. It was later in the day when nearing the 100km mark that a prayer was said in hope that the heavens wouldn't open again. Unfortunately for me there were apparently other plans and, as the day began to draw to a close, a black cloud closely followed my path. My initial thought was to push on in the vain hope that the heavy rain would slow and stop, giving me a chance at least to get a little dry before looking for a suitable spot to camp.

The Pink(ish) lake of Port Gregory

The cold rain drops continued to lash into my face well past five o'clock, when I would usually start to look for a camping spot. It was a shame that the rain fell as the landscape that passed by looked perfect for camping; open bushland with short green grass. Fences either side of the road made entering the bush a little tricky without being seen by the occasionally passing car. It meant all the luggage would have to be removed and then replaced after being lifted over the fence, which I didn't fancy doing in the adverse weather conditions. So I carried on until a side road revealed a wire gate that I could use to get off the road. Of course, the lovely camping lawns I had seen earlier had been replaced by sand and the odd sprout of grass. And the rain still fell! Looking at the clouds I felt distinctly short-changed, as everywhere I looked was blue sky, apart from the span of black cloud directly above my chosen sleeping spot. From what I could figure, the rain would soon stop as the cloud moved off to the south, but of course, a surprise followed.

Detail of Banksia flower

As the rain eased to a drizzle and I stood there like a drowned rat, I guessed within five minutes the tent could go up meaning I could then strip off, make coffee and get warm. But, as it happened, the cloud seemed to change its mind, deciding rather to do one more pass over the lone cycle tourist to give him one last drenching. In a matter of minutes the tent flew up while the rain kept falling hard. After a bit of mopping, things turned out to be relatively dry and it wasn't long before the coffee was brewed and the past couple of hours didn't seem so bad. The next morning made me realise that the rain really wasn't the worst of my worries because when I emerged from the tent there was a welcoming committee waiting for me.

One of my camping sites in the bush

Thousands of small black flies swarmed at my legs, arms and any exposed skin hoping to get a bit of blood breakfast. It seemed the decamp would have to match the set up for speed if I wanted to get away without a complete hammering. As fast as I moved and brushed them aside the midges came to my skin and got their morning feed. It was no good to try and fight them off - I just tried to move out as fast as possible. As I pedalled off down the road relief came when the swarm couldn't keep up with me any longer!

This tree definitely tells me the wind should be coming from behind me - so why am I getting a headwind!

Corona beer: Voted No. 1 beer in Australia judging by the number of empty bottles lying by the side of the road.

Up the west coast of Australia

2011-05-26T18:31:00.000-07:00

It's been five days or so since I rode out of Fremantle, heading north, at first along the coastal cycle path and then later on, along the Indian Ocean drive. I had delayed my departure again and again thanks to big thunder storms that kept rolling in across the city. I was prepared and all packed to get out on the road but the dark skies kept me from venturing out. Once I was on the move the weather would have to be accepted, but, while I had the choice to stay dry, I took it and hoped the weather would improve. Saturday was looking better on the forecast and, sure enough, the sun was shining when I looked out in the morning. Not being in a great rush to start, I went for coffee with Marion, Jade and Win at the Merchant coffee house where Johannes was working. After staying so long it was more than difficult to say goodbye, but around half past one I set off through Fremantle in the direction of Cottesloe. So thanks, guys, for having me to stay! Much appreciated!

Perth CBD

View of Perth from Kings Park

I wanted to make it out of the city before the sun dropped too far and find somewhere to make camp for the night. It seemed around 60 or 70 km would see me past the suburbs, but having not been on the bike for a while it was a good distance to cover in the remaining few hours of the day. Following the cycle route along the coast, I passed through Cottesloe, City Beach, Scarborough and Hillarys. All expensive looking suburbs right on the coast with access to the white sandy beach. Plenty of spots were available for surfing and sea kayaking and almost all parking places were full of locals and tourists enjoying the sun and the beach. Glad not to be on the road to begin with, I enjoyed the ride, soaking up the sights along the coast until the path ran out at Burns Beach, which seemed to be an half finished suburb. A bit of a double back got me going on the main road towards the suburb of Waneroo where I refilled my water at a petrol station. The rather confused looking Indian attendant enquired whether I wanted just 'normal' water. Outside was a tap where I collected my 'normal' water before pushing on past endless stretches of newly built houses. I suppose the guy behind the counter was used to people buying bottled water and found it hard to grasp that I was happy with the free stuff.

Swan River complete with Black Swans

Some kilometres after Waneroo the suburbs suddenly ended and the bush began. It was a clear cut line that seemed to be advancing north all the time as new plots are cleared and built upon. For me it was perfect as the sun was starting to sink below the horizon and the pain had started to build in my legs. Not far after the last buildings I ducked off into the Grass trees and Banksia bushes and found a suitable spot big enough to pitch my tent. It was a good feeling to be out camping again, self sufficent and without tight deadlines to aim for. I was, however, out of practice and would need a few days to get back into the routine of being on the road. Luckily, having done it before, I was pretty prepared and knew what to expect. That camping was the easy bit, the hard bit was waiting for my body adjust to the vigours of being in the saddle all day. I knew, though, that after a week or two my stamina would start to build and cycling all day wouldn't be a problem.

Swan River, Perth

Farewell in Freo, from left, Jade, Marion, Johannes, me and Win

Within the first ten minutes of setting up camp the joys of the bush emerged in the form of a troop of ticks that seemed intent on a free meal and then, later, a few determined mosquitos came to see what was on offer. In the night, Kangaroos hopped about outside my tent trying to see who was sleeping in their patch. It took me a while to work out what the noises were - having not experienced any kangaroos in the wild before - and, for some reason, I thought they wouldn't be so close to a town. Thoughts of drunk people from the suburb stumbling through the bush crossed my mind before I realised it was just harmless marsupials out for a night time meal.

Pure white sand dunes in the distance..

On the new Indian Ocean Drive - it has only been open for the last year

It was a cold long night. With not much to do after cooking I fell asleep by eight o'clock and was woken by a couple of the local Magpies. They were intent on parading about in the bushes around my tent while singing their fascinating tunes. Stiff from the previous day's riding and the cold night, it was a while before I was ready to start cycling again. Luckily, the morning sun helped me get going in the direction of Yanchep and then continue further on towards Two Rocks, Guilderton and Sea Bird. All the towns were off the main road, so I carried on, deciding to stop later at Ledge Point. A chance for some fishing might be possible, but, reaching the campsite, I was shocked to find that they wanted 38 dollars to pitch my tent. A swift fill of water and then a campsite in the bush suited me better, although it meant no fishing, which was probably a good thing as I was pretty exhausted.

Shingle back lizard comes in for attack!

Now I have reached Dongara where I'm staying in a great little backpackers. For only ten dollars, I can pitch my tent and have use of all the facilities. For 25 dollars you get to stay in an old, converted railway carriage, complete with kitchen and bathroom. The last few days I've passed along the coast road, stopping in at the towns of Lancelin, Cervantes, Jurien bay, Green head and Leeman. Nothing has persuaded me to stay in any of the places I have seen, so its usually been a quick look around, pick up of supplies and then back on the road.

Landscape of grass trees

Compared to my last trip, it's a bit of a novelty being able to continue cycling for a long time and not ever having to think about a border crossing and visas, or similar things. So at the moment, having started to feel a little more fit, I can see myself making a few stops, but heading north fairly fast to make the most of the cooler weather. Its apparently been a strange year here regarding the climate and so it seems as I head up the coast - the outback is green as opposed to red as I was expecting! It surely won't take too long for things to heat up and from what I've heard the North in the hot season is one sticky place to be. To get up there and explore while I can before the rains come seems to make sense.

Plenty of kangaroos but the only Emu I have seen was smeared down the centre of the road!

On the way from Perth I made a small side trip to the Pinnacles national park which has been one of the highlights of the trip so far. A few km from the main road a patch of desert opens up in the middle of the seemingly continuous green bush. There have been pure white sand dunes poking above the vegetation from time to time, but at this place the sand is rusty coloured and through it emerge huge numbers of sandstone pinnacles ranging from a few feet to twenty feet high. It's not a huge area, perhaps a hundred acres or so, and through the middle winds a dirt track. Luckily for me, I was early and had the whole place to myself apart from a few Galahs that were catching the early morning sun from the top of some of the stone pinnacles. Riding around the loop I wished it could have carried on for hundreds of kilometres.

Pinnacles desert

Along the coast I have passed through a number of 'Shires' and all seem to have pretty strict ideas about people camping in their bushlands. Any likely spot seems to have a sign warning likely campers that fines apply if the patrolling ranger catches you in the act. I imagine it has got a lot to do with people leaving litter and starting bush fires and the fact that tourist dollars to the campsites are important for the local economy. For me, though, travelling on the bicycle there is no way to stick to designated camping areas, plus I prefer the solitude of being out in the bush alone.

A few nights ago I stumbled across a superb spot where, of course, it is illegal to camp. It was situated on top of a hill, an old trig station that was used in the first land survey of the coast from Perth to Geraldton. Now the point, complete with stone cairn, is a purpose-built wooden lookout in a perfect place for a cycle tourer to sleep. At the car park a few hundred yards from the main road, a path winds up the hill through the low kwongan scrub to the peak where one is met with a 360 degree view of the surrounding landscape. To the west I could see the setting sun over the Indian ocean and, to the east, salt lakes separated me from pastures and, further towards the horizon, was Mount Leseur. To the north, possibly around 30 km as the crow flies, a huge black mushroom cloud with a flattened top rose high into the sky. Later, as it grew dark and the stars began to shine, the flames of the fire becames visible in the distance. Not long after, they grew dim and vanished as, presumably, crews were there trying to stop the damage that was being caused.

Galahs sunbathing

Lookout sunset

As the sun sank over the horizon the broken clouds transformed into a million colours and it seemed I had the best seat in the house. Eventually drawing myself away from the fantastic sunset when darkness began to set in, it wasn't long until a steak was sizzling in the frying pan, while I waited in anticipation for the next spectacular natural display. Again, I don't think a more perfect position could be found to admire the full glory of the night sky. As the last shards of sunlight dwindled into the approaching night the sky was transformed into a diamond encrusted tapestry broken down the centre by the Milky Way. It was one of those moments that I feel very privileged to travel in the way that I do. The downside, though, was that my tent had to be brought out to keep the hordes of mosquitoes at bay, otherwise I could have slept open under that sky. Later, I was glad of the shelter as a cold wind started blowing over the hill in the early hours of the morning ruffling the tent as it passed by.

Where I was expecting a nice white beach to camp on..I got tons of rotting seaweed instead!

As I followed the road north, I came across a couple of touring cyclists heading in the opposite direction. John and Frances from Edinburgh were nearing the end of their circumnavigation of Australia that had begun six months earlier in Perth. I wouln't like to guess how old they are, but if when I reach a similar age I can still ride a bike around Australia I will be very pleased. To top it all, a little more than a year ago John had a hip replacement, which obviously hasn't slowed him down too much. After chatting for a while, it emerged that not far behind them was another guy travelling by bike, this time from Essex. And it so happened later in the day I ran across Colin, who was camped on the beach that John and Frances had recommended to me. A few km before, I had taken a very steep track down from the road to what I expected would be a pleasant white sand beach. Instead, vast amounts of rotting sea weed stretched for kilometres down the coast. Not an ideal spot to camp. So, I hauled the bike back up to the road and carried on for a few more km until I found the 'free' camp spot where Colin was parked up, along with four or five couples travelling with caravans.

Camping by the beach with Colin

Colin had been touring all over Australia for more or less the last year and in that time had covered a good amount of ground. He was a mine of information about the route ahead of me and dispelled some myths I had been told by the locals. It seems to be a bit of a national past-time here in Australia to tell travellers about the dangers of the country, but as usual most of the stories don't hold too much weight, or at least I hope they don't! It seems the main issue is to make sure I have enough water to cover some of the long distances between roadhouses as I get a little further north. The longest stretches without water will hopefully take no more than three days to cover, which shouldn't be too hard as long as the headwinds aren't too strong.

Colin packed up and ready to move south

At last, I get to play on the sand dunes!

Western Australia!

2011-05-14T23:39:00.000-07:00

It seems that I could possibly have landed in a fisherman's paradise. The sheer amount of fish species inhabiting the coastline that lies ahead is quite staggering - which I hadn't realised before starting to do a little research for this trip. Sure, there are the iconic Australian species such as the famous Barramundi that everyone knows about, but also a vast number of other fish that can be successfully targeted by the travelling angler. High on the hit list on the west coast around Perth are the Dhufish, Sambos, Mulloway and the Australian Salmon and as you move further north the tropical species such as Trevally, Queenies, Threadfin etc. come into their own. Get out on a boat and anything is possible! The list is virtually endless and, hopefully, over the next months I will get to know them better and be able to post a few pictures if I get lucky enough to land some.

My original plan was to fly to Sydney and cycle the country to Perth before heading up the west coast towards Darwin. After a bit of research it made more sense to take advantage of the winter and explore the west coast north of Perth where the fishing seems to be exceptional and fairly accessible while travelling by bicycle. It's always going to be hard to conjure up the energy to fish after a long day of cycling in the sun, but hopefully some beach-side camping will mean that a few fish will be possible along the way. Hopefully I will set up camp at some coastal hotspots and give them the attention they deserve. Places like Exmouth, for example, can't be ignored as the potential seems vast. Sharks, Rays, Emperor, Permit, Bluebone, Grouper, Trevally, Queenfish and even Bonefish in the right season inhabit the rich waters of Ningaloo reef that runs along the coast from Exmouth.

Arriving in Perth a couple of weeks ago I had to wait a week or so for Abbey to arrive from India. After a long flight from the UK via Dubai it was great to be met at the airport by Johannes and his buddy Craig who had kindly agreed to give me a lift down to Fremantle. Jo has rented a room in Fremantle, which is one of the oldest parts of Perth. More like a town than a city, it has a cosmopolitan population and a good mix of shops and drinking establishments and appears to be the most pleasant place to stay in the city. Johannes shares the flat with his brother Win and an Argentinian/Australian girl, Marion, who are both great to stay with.

While I waited for Abbey I met Ben from the Australian fishing forum, Fishwrecked, who had kindly agreed to give me some work, and also, hopefully, take me fishing in his boat. We met up early on Friday in the southern suburbs and spent the morning erecting fences around newly built houses. The afternoon was for fishing and by half past twelve, mainly thanks to Ben's speedy work, we were towing the boat towards the sea. The plan was to head out for some deep water jigging because the weather seemed to be looking good for the afternoon. To get out to a hotspot that had previously produced meant an half hour trip directly out to sea that would see us fishing in around 40 metres of water for Samson fish, Dhufish, and possibly some snappers. The Sambos, as the australians call them, were the main targets as they tend to shoal up, meaning a good multiple catch might be had if they were on the bite.

It was my first vertical jigging trip and what a place to first try this highly addictive form of the sport. We cruised fast over the dark blue water, the boat skipping over the crests of little waves and over the building swell until the land almost vanished on the horizon behind us. Ben skippered the boat and beside him stood his friend Brendan who had joined us for the trip. I sat behind on a big esky with a large smile spread across my face, admiring the vast expanse of ocean that surrounded our little craft. Something caught my attention close to the side of the boat. A silver dart with large black staring eyes was flying a foot above the waters surface closely matching our speed. It was a beautiful shining flying fish suspended in the air, exerting no effort whatsoever as it sped forward. Amazed at the distance it covered, I was surprised to see that a flick of the fins and tail sent it soaring forward for another thirty metres before it plunged back into the water. An incredible bit of evolution that amazes me everytime I witness the spectacle.
After 35 minutes and around 30 km we reached the spot where Ben had caught good fish before. With some prime spots recorded on the GPS we slowly cruised about looking for the shoaling Samson fish. Small blue spots on the finder apparently indicated groups of small fish while orange were the bigger fish that we were after.

It didn't take long before we found a good spot and I keenly watched Ben and Brendan drop their jigs through the 40m of water. As soon as I saw the action needed I followed with my jig and started to retrieve in an amateurish fashion hoping the fish wouldn't be too picky. It wasn't long until I felt the braid tighten against a fish trying its best to eat my jig. Carrying on with the same action I tried my best to set the hook and not give anything line back. As I bullied the powerful fish up towards the boat Ben's rod took on an alarming curve and he was also in. What a buzz it was finally to get a fish on a vertical jig. Unfortunately for me the hook popped out on my fish just as I caught sight of it below the boat. It turned out to be much smaller than the fight suggested, which was confirmed as Ben pulled a Sambo of a few kilos aboard. They were spirited fighters at such a small size, so a big specimen must be quite an exciting thing to have on the end of your line.

It was a good sign to get into fish so quickly, but for all our wishes it didn't carry on and the first two bites turned out to be the only ones of the trip. We tried further, but the current made things hard and it seemed that there were no real big shoals of Sambos about, or that they weren't on the feed. We hoped for Dhufish or Snapper with a reduction in jig size, but it wasn't going to be the day for us. As the Sambos and other fish weren't playing ball the fall back plan was to head back to inshore waters and lure some squid.

The sea had become a little rougher since we had arrived at the jigging spot, which meant the journey back was a little rough. Sitting at the back of the boat on the esky seemed to be the most precarious position and I found myself holding on tight with all four of my limbs. With my feet firmly planted on the floor and holding on for dear life the boat powered through the rough water. A quick lapse of concentration saw me head butt the seat in front, but luckily for me it was soft. Ben expertly manouvered the boat through the troughs and approaching waves, dipping the throttle at the correct times to avoid smashing into an approaching wall of water. It seemed like an age before we reached the calmer waters of Cockburn Sound where we located the Squid hot spot. Ben was highly confident of a catch and told us that the squid like to lie in the weed, ready to dart out and catch any unsuspecting small fish or prawn that might be swimming by.

The jigs should be allowed to sink to just above the weed bed before being slowly twitched in the current. Usually, when the plastic prawn is falling back through the water, the squid will make a grab for its meal, and transmit a gentle bite up the thin, braided line. The first twenty minutes were quiet, but as the sun sunk below the horizon the switch was flipped and the predators came on the feed. On the light squid sticks a modest sized specimen felt like a monster as it grabbed hold of the jig. Slowly and gently we pulled the squid to the waiting net, careful not to make any erratic movement which might result in the soft flesh tearing from the hooks. It was a dangerous game as when the squid saw the net their ink started flying in a all directions. We all got hit by the high powered jets of ink and water, Brendan in the face, me across the chest and Ben down the legs. It was amazing the distance they could squirt and even 4 or 5 metres away we weren't safe. It was only when they were safely enclosed in the esky that the danger of being inked was gone. At seven fish we called it a day and headed home through the night.
A few days later Abbey was arriving from India for ten days before flying across to

Melbourne to meet his family. The question on my mind was where to head to with Abbey, north or south? After much thought the answer seemed to be south to chase Salmon and check out some of the big Karri and other Eucalyptus forests. Years ago I had seen a picture of a fantastic big gum tree in a book and had discovered its home was a place called Pemberton, which, as it happens, is south of Perth. What makes this tree special apart from its size, is that metal poles spiral the trunk to a height of over 200 feet. Years and years ago, the poles were driven home to form a ladder that would reach higher than any of the neighbours' topmost branches. The reason was to use it as a fire lookout! Finally, after many years of waiting, I could finally climb this special tree!

As Abbey arrived on the holiday weekend we had a little wait before we could get on the move. Most businesses were shut up for Easter and Anzac day so our plan of hiring a camper van took longer than planned. Some good fortune meant we didn't have to wait too long and soon we were off in a little van complete with fridge and kitchen. South of Perth we followed the freeway through landscapes of grass, trees and other dry scrub before reaching the wetter south where green paddocks full of plump cows dominated the landscape. We passed through the pretty area of Magaret river and on down to Augusta where we were nearly blown away on a visit to the famous lighthouse. Other hardy souls made the windy and wet trek up the grassy slope, but we took the sensible option and viewed the white building from afar.

As we watched the big black storm clouds drift in from the south west, we realised fishing was out of the question so made the decision to head inland and visit the forests until, hopefully, the weather passed on. Later in the evening we stumbled across a pretty tree-lined campsite by a river, where we decided to spend the night. We considered fishing for Brim, but again, like earlier, the weather wasn't up to much, meaning the preferred option of drinking vodka and watching the tame Possums was chosen.

The rain continued to fall for the next few days as we toured around Australia's south west admiring the beautiful forests of big white trunked gum trees. Much of the forest had been felled by the early settlers to make way for grazing and other agriculture, but still lots of original forest remains to wow touring fisherman like ourselves. We followed sometimes twisting, and at other times, pencil straight ribbons of shiny black tarmac through the misty forests and stopped in old wooden towns. Hardy people the settlers must have been to hack through these vast expanses of forest and establish the inland towns. Arriving in the the small country town of Pemberton the sky opened and dropped another load of rain over the already green countryside. The locals told us that it had been a long while since the last rains and that the surrounding forests needed the water. Apparently the average rainfall has almost halved in the last century, so it didn't seem right to complain too much about the continuous drizzle.

Luckily the rain let up just long enough for me to climb to the top of my big tree. The Gloucester tree, as it is known, rises something like 209 feet into the sky. Surrounded by similarly sized giants, the big tree is quite a mesmerising sight. The solid trunk seems almost to disappear into the clouds and, amazingly, perched on topmost branch is a small, wooden fire viewing platform. As in the picture I had seen when I was only ten years old, the ladder spiralled its way right to the top of this magnificent tree. With only flip flops on my feet, I chose to climb up the cold metal poles barefooted, which made things interesting. It didn't take long to reach the platforms on top, by which time my heart had well and truly woken up. It was a long long way down to the forest floor where Abbey was patiently waiting, as he had chosen to stay grounded. The platforms were solidly bolted to the tree and seemed good for another hundred years - that is, if the old tree continues to live on. I wondered how such a structure was built and full respect goes out to the guys that made it possible. The climb down, as always, was was more interesting than the ascent for you are fully aware of the implications of a slip!

The next trees we wanted to see were the giant Tingle trees south of Pemberton near the town of Walpole. With darker coloured bark than the Karris, the Tingles tend to be shorter, fatter and often in their old age, hollow. Some years before we arrived, the giant of giants had given up its fight against gravity and had come crashing down, but luckily many huge Tingles still remain. Up on a hill overlooking the ocean below, a red dirt road winds up through a stand of huge big buttressed Tingle trees.

At the top, and after a short walk, the king of Tingles is reached; an ancient tree with a hollow trunk that a car, or two, could park in. Years of forest fires and rot have removed vast amounts of dead wood from the centre of the tree, leaving it precariously balanced on its thin outer skeleton. Who knows how much longer it will stand before it follows in the path of its fallen cousin, but, hopefully, a few more generations will get to see this magnificent beast.

As claustrophobia was beginning to set in, the choice was made to head to the coast to catch a fish, regardless of the weather. The beauty of the camper van was that we could scope out the water from a dry vantage point and, if the salmon turned up, a dash could be made to try and catch them. Lazy fishing? Yes, but the idea of getting soaked time and time again while trying to keep the hire van clean and tidy didn't seem too inviting. Our plan hinged on whether we would be able to find a spot to park right on the beach. Luckily we took Ben's advice and headed to a beach that he had recommended before we had left Perth.

We arrived at the view point above the small beach and immediately knew we had found the spot for next few days. In between rocky cliffs and headlands, a narrow strip of white sand ran a few hundred metres along the coast separating the continuous green bushland from the superb, clear blue ocean. A darker reef ran most of the length of the beach, but where it broke, a handful of fishermen were casting their lines. It looked perfect and got even better as we drove down and found that a delightful camp host was in residence along with a freshwater stream where we could collect water. We parked our van directly in front of the beach and settled in to wait for the Salmon.

From another angler, I heard a report of Salmon the week before, but for the first day things were dead quiet. A Salmon's head, washed up on the beach, confirmed that a fish had been caught a few days before, which gave us some hope. The first evening, I flicked a shiny metal wedge for a while and was pleased to get a lively little herring on my first cast. I caught a few more before calling it a day and heading back to the van. A few other guys fishing hadn't had so much as a touch so it wasn't just my bad luck! It seemed that the Salmon weren't about, although earlier I had seen a shoal of fish in the waves that looked distinctly salmon-like!

On the second day, we were starting to doubt whether we would ever see a Salmon, let alone be lucky enough to land one. Then the question was whether to sit tight and wait it out, or run around the countryside looking for the fish. We opted to stay put as we were sure it wouldn't be too easy to find another great spot where we could park our van within spitting distance of the water .

Later in the day we were pretty happy with the choice to stay, as the ultimate sight for a fisherman greeted our eyes. A little way down the beach the water was erupting as little silver fish fled for their lives! An attack was being launched from below by a big shoal of plump Salmon while, from above, hungry gulls dived to catch the confused baitfish. It was definitely not a good time to be a small fish! After grabbing our rods, we sprinted down the beach and before I had even stopped running a wedge was flying in the direction of the action. Almost instantaneously the lure was smashed by a good fish and braid whistled from the spool. Abbey was also in to a fish on the first cast, but, unfortunately,,the braid was cut on the reef. After five minutes of carefully playing my fish the line went slack and I reeled in to find a bent treble!

Next cast I was again immediately into another Salmon, which wasn't as lucky as its buddy as the hooks held good. By this time, Abbey had returned from the van with more lures and leader and was frantically trying to tie a new leader to the braid before the fish vanished from the beach. I was into my third fish as Abbey cast a popper behind the breakers. It was taken quickly, but, in his excitment, he struck far too hard and snapped the leader. The excitment was obviously getting to him, leading to silly mistakes. After a few words he played the next fish like a pro and it wasn't long until he had caught and released four beautiful Salmon. The grin on his face said it all! I couldn't belive our luck and also couldn't wipe the silly smile from my face. We kept the first fish as it was plenty to eat and another ended up being kept as it took the lure deep and couldn't be successfully released.

After catching a couple, I changed the metal slice for a skitter pop and was amazed when, on the first cast, a greedy Salmon followed the lure nearly onto the sand. At the last second it grabbed it and took a long run back into the breakers where it scooted back and forth jumping and shaking its head in a bid to throw the hook. As I was playing the fish something in the corner of my eye caught my attention, which turned out to be a herring hopping about in a mere couple of inches of water. Unbelievably, a Salmon was right behind the small fish, almost beached on the sand with its back poking completely out of the water. The herring got lucky and made a dash for it before its pursuer could turn and follow! Unbelievable!

As the light dwindled, the Salmon slowly melted away back into the deeps so we decided to call it a day and head back to cook our catch. From what I had heard, it seemed Salmon was an acquired taste, but it was perfect fried with a little garlic!
Staying for a few more days in the hope of another run of fish proved more or less fruitless. I managed one more Salmon, casting a lure at dusk, and a few herring, but that was it. It didn't particularly matter, though, because we were still on a high from the previous day's session. We had fulfilled our mission and were very pleased with the result.

Back in Fremantle after the short sortie for the Salmon down south ,I was excited to recieve a message from Ben saying that there was a chance to head out on his boat for a second trip; of course, depending on the weather conditions. The plan was to begin fishing in more sheltered waters close to coast and, as the day progressed, and if the weather forecasters were correct, we could move out to deeper water as the wind was predicted to drop at midday. Snappers were on the list of species we could target and how could I refuse after previously seeing pictures of magnificent big hump headed Pink Snappers on Fishwrecked.com? A nice pinky would definitely keep me happy for a while. Along with Mulloway, it's one of the two fish I am really hoping to catch while over here in Australia.

As we weren't out at first light, the big ones might have to wait until later in the day so the first port of call was to flick some metal and small soft plastics around some likely looking headlands and bombies. Ben had heard that some Tailor might be on the cards, which would be good, because they are a species I have caught before in South Africa, so one of their Australian cousins wouldn't go amiss. Looking at the ground we were fishing, I imagined some big fish would be found in the area at the right times, so was fully expecting to hook into something big as I worked the lures through the white water breaks. Maybe we were a little late for the big ones, but luckily, greedy little herring were keen to keep us busy as they repeatedly scoffed the lures. They seem remarkably adept at jumping the hooks just as they are about to be swung over the edge of the boat, so most managed to rejoin their group of mates who had followed them to the side of the boat.
After half an hour, no Tailor had decided to eat the lures , so a move was made in search of Sand Whiting a little further out from the rugged coast. Apparently, squid tentacles, hooked so they go with the flow, are the number one bait, and it wasn't long before we were lowering two-hook paternosters down on to the sand 10 metres below. It didn't take long before little Whiting were gobbling our hook baits, along with the occasional small Sand Flathead. It wasn't going "off" as expected so a we made a couple of moves to look for richer fishing grounds. Ben told me that on previous trips, while fishing in the same way, he had nearly been spooled by what he thought was a small shark. So to get in on the action we drifted a big bait on wire over the back of the boat while we continued to feel for bites on the light sticks.

Amazingly, half the day had already passed when we started to catch some colourful Wrasse on the squid baits as we drifted over some weed beds. They fought hard on the light rods and gave us fun for a while, but we quickly became bored as no other species showed. By now, as predicted, the wind was starting to die down and, in turn, the sea was calming, making it a perfect time to leave the toothy little Wrasse behind and go in search of something a bit more substantial in deeper water. Near the offshore bank we found a nice dropoff that screamed fish. A change of depth of 5 metres over a relatively flat bottom is surely a magnet to our piscatorial friends and the depth sounder confirmed our suspicions! It looked pretty busy down there so Ben suspected and hoped that the Pink snapper would be hanging about amongst all the activity.

And would you believe it? After setting up a nice drift, Ben's bait was snaffled and, after a good scrap, a fin perfect little pinky was brought aboard! A nice example of the beautiful species, but not quite of the size we were hoping for. As we set up for another drift over the hotspot, all hell broke loose as a shoal of huge Long Tom suddenly turned up and started slashing at the squid baits as we tossed them over the side. As they darted back and forth, Ben soon hooked up, but just as quickly the hook popped out and the fish swam free. A few seconds later another took the bait and this time was properly hooked. Ben's little reel sung a merry tune as the Long Tom decided it would rather be as far from the boat as possible. Jumping and cartwheeling, it removed line with ease, while all the time we wondered how it was possible that such thin line was holding up to the abrasion caused from those sharp teeth.
I grabbed my lure rod and cast a Bomber out and, with a fast retrieve, it was hounded in time and time again by a pack of Long Toms, but unfortunately none of the fish hooked up. A change of lure to the metal slice resulted in another five strikes, but still no hook ups! All the time, we could see the fish through the clear water darting about striking the lure as well as following the fish Ben still had on his line. After ten or more minutes, the Long Tom Ben had been playing was tiring and came to the side of the boat. Neither of us had seen this species before. We were used to the more or less plain silver fish found in warmer waters; these had bright yellow jaws and a vividly coloured body together with some dark spots throughout their length. It was a striking and beautiful fish and we desperately wanted a photo to remember it by. Of course, there was no way to fit a fish of at least 1.20m into the environet, but we had no other ideas apart from making a mad grab at the body. Figuring the best way would be to get the head in the net and then grab the body, we gave it a go, but disaster happened and the fish spooked, jumped, threw the hook and said bye bye!

Unfortunately, that was the last time we saw the Long Toms, so we returned to our bait fishing to see what else might be hanging around the hump. I soon hooked up to a lively fish that bent the little rod double. Would it be a Pink Snapper as I hoped? it turned out to be a double header consisting of our old friend the Wrasse, along with a Blackarse. Close, but not close enough. The next customer was pretty lively and tried its best to take line from the reel. The first glimpse revealed a solid silver bar rising from the depths which turned out to be a Skippy big enough to come home for dinner. It really was great fun to catch these small fish on the appropriate tackle as every fish made us grin from ear to ear! More Skippy followed while a pod of Dolphins played in the swell some way off into the sea. Even a big barnacle-encrusted turtle rose to the surface to take some gulps of fresh air before its next dive, and right on time as I had asked Ben earlier if he ever sees them about.

We had a quick count and found that eleven or more species had been landed throughout the day. Nothing big, but throughly enjoyable all the same. By now the sun had dropped and turned to a burning haze on the horizon. The wind too had also completely vanished, leaving us with a picture perfect evening to fish on through. It was fast approaching fish o' clock when the chance of hooking a bigger fish would vastly increase. The talk of big Snappers and Dhuies kept us wondering as we celbrated the already successful day with some ice-cold Coronas. Ben had been burlying the water with old mulies and the like, so we hoped there would be somewhat of a frenzy going on below. Our only problem was that anchoring in the desired spot had proved to be almost impossible. It was only a small problem so we just continued to drift the spot.

It was reaching that magical, golden time of day when you should be holding your rod tightly. I had given up bait fishing a few minutes before and put on my all time favourite lucky soft plastic lure, the Storm Wildeye sardine. Now, if a fish won't eat this lure, I feel for it as there must be something seriously wrong with it. Sometimes, I even get the urge to eat the lure myself and more than once I have had people comment on my catch, only for me to tell them its actually a piece of rubber! I could imagine large fish below, stirring ready for an evening of gorging on small fish as I lowered the plastic to the bottom. Having not fished this technique much before, I was aware that the best chance of a strike was to keep the lure as close to the sea floor as possible. A little too high in the water and all chance to induce a take might be lost, irrespective of how good a lure is on the end of the line.

Savouring the beautiful evening, I contemplated the dangers of rolling a cigarette at such a time of the day. Rather, I started to tell Ben how I had once spent a day strolling the local river in the UK flicking spinners for Pike, Perch and Chub. The morning had drifted into the afternoon and still I hadn't put a fish on the bank, which was surprising as it usually wasn't so quiet. Fed up and with the lethargy setting in the unbelieveble happened! The spinner flew across the river and was allowed to sink a little more than usual as I thought possibly the fish were sitting deep. After a few turns of the handle, something bit and I struck into solid resistance. It was a slow steady fight and to my amazment a can of Stella Artois emerged from the water, neatly hooked in the ring pull and within the useby date. The fishless day didn't seem so bad anymore as I cracked open the cold can and took a sip.

Just as I reached the end of the story my rod gave a hefty tug and pulled around in my hands! A fish was on and I tried to gain some control as Ben shouted "PINK SNAPPER" and grabbed his camera to film the action. My fireline zipped from the little Shimano Baitrunner as a solid fish made a dash for some underwater sanctuary. Everything had happened as we had hoped, the timing was perfect and now my heart was in my mouth as I gently played the strong opponent. Slowly I gained line but didn't give the fish too much stick as it was possibly my first Pinky! There was no way I was going to lose this fish! Ben had the net waiting and as the fish broke surface he expertly netted it, to shouts of joy and a congratulatory hand shake. A fantastic big solid Pink Snapper lay in the net with the hook perfectly placed in the bottom jaw. The factory hook on the lure was bent so, luckily, the treble hook I had attached had saved the day. Of course I couldn't stop smilling as we peered into the net. A decision was made to stay out a little longer after dark and see if any more fish would take the lures.

It wasn't to be, but we were both content with the fantasic day. A heap of species had landed on the boat with the grand finale of the a big Pinky. Life couldn't have got much better as we zipped over the swell through the charcoal night towards the orange lights on the horizon. A big, big thanks to Ben for making it possible! Cheers buddy!

Before leaving Perth, I was lucky enough to get out on another boat with fellow Fishwrecker, Bryan. We met up at midday when Bryan had finished his studies for the day, and headed down to Woodmans Point. The weather looked pretty good for us, with the water only a little ruffled from a light wind. The target for the day was going to be squid, which made sense as Bryan had done well with them in previous weeks. Our boat was perfect for inshore work and soon we arrived at our drift site where the sea bed crept up from ten metres to four as we moved closer to the island. A mine of info on the area, Bryan pointed out all the landmarks as we scooted over the sea to our destination.

I tied on my new yo-zuri squid jig and hoped it would work considering the vast amount of money I had just spent buying it. Short twitches helped the jig look like a prawn in distress, which in theory would draw the squid from the weed to attack the helpless prey. It wasn't long before I felt some resistance on the line followed by a few small tugs as the hooked squid tried to find refuge in the sea grass. A gentle retrieve and soon we were off the mark and guaranteed a meal later in the day. It seemed the bright pink lure I'd chosen was on the money as the next five squid came to my lure and then the seventh to Bryan's red jig. The fishing was pretty slow so, for the last hour or two of light, a move was made to a sand patch where we planned to fish bait for Whiting and other species.

Bryan threw a burley cage over the edge of the boat as we anchored up and began fishing. Almost immediately we started getting small bites as fish started to home in on the trail of particles falling through the water. The first fish to come aboard was a Yellow-Tailed Trumpeter, followed by a Sand Whiting and many of the Trumpeter's mates. Bryan got what we were after and landed a lovely King George Whiting, but as we fished on it seemed to be a solitary specimen. A small pod of Dolphins passed close to the boat in no apparent hurry, while small groups of comorants hurried by on the way to their chosen roosts. Every time the bait touched the seabed, the bites came thick and fast. Soon, a couple of Skippy came to Bryan's rod and, before we knew it, the sun had dropped below the horizon. It was great fishing and we both wished we could carry on to see which species would take the bait next, but, with the light going fast, we had to make a dash back to the ramp - which turned out to be a good way for me to get an early shower from waves breaking over the bow.

The heaters in the truck soon warmed me up as we drank a last beer on the way back to Fremantle. Back at home, Bryan showed me how to clean the squid, which I later fried to make some very tasty dinner. A big thanks to Bryan for taking the time to show me some of his fishing grounds.

So in the next couple of days I will head out of Perth on the bicycle and follow the coast north and see where the road takes me. Hopefully, some decent fish will cross my path, so look out for an update soon. Adios!

India Fishing Expedition Part 5

2011-03-26T13:28:00.001-07:00

India Fishing Expedition Part 4

2011-03-12T13:28:00.000-08:00

A young flower seller outside a temple in central Karnataka

After a while it’s always good to have a break from the salt and sand so we turned our attention to some fresh water species. The prospect of a couple of weeks of Mahseer fishing was very inviting and with the anticipation building day by day it was a relief to eventually head off. It was a little difficult to leave the trappings of Goa a couple of days before New Years Eve, but we were sure we could survive! For a few years now I have wanted to travel along the Western Ghats and now the time had come. Aboard our trusty scooters we left Arambol fully loaded, headed inland a little and then continued south towards our destination which lay around 600km away in Karnataka state.

We had no idea what a belching massage is and didn't have the balls to try it out! anyone that wants directions to this establishment email me!

I’ve been down the west coast a few times by train and bus. Both routes mainly stick to the coast, so in theory to follow the mountains would be great change. It didn’t disappoint. It didn’t take long to get through Mapusa and leave the congestion of coastal Goa behind. We were suddenly on quiet roads passing through small villages separated from each other by thick forest. With mainly other motorcycles on the road and no time limit it made for very relaxed riding. After a few hours we joined a piece of highway that would take us up and over the Western Ghats. The traffic was travelling much faster on this much larger road and at one point an oncoming car suddenly appeared from behind a truck and threatened to wipe both of us out. As I swerved to the left the car vanished back to where it had emerged from. It was a close call and reminded us that one hundred percent concentration was needed to deal with so many highly unpredictable motorists. Up on Anmod Ghat the road snaked and curled high into the steep jungle clad hills. All larger vehicles in both directions were forced to slow to a snails pace because of the frequent hairpin bends. All other vehicles seemed to have other ideas and drove the road like a race track, all trying to reach the top first. Most drivers seemed to think nothing of overtaking on blind corners, risking their own lives as well as those of other road users. Had it not been for the slowness of the larger vehicles that they were over taking, they may well have come unstuck. Near the top of the Ghat, a clear stream cascaded down the rock and disappeared under the road. Truck drivers used it as an excuse to let their engines cool while they washed themselves and their trucks with the cold water. To the other side of the road was a magnificent view which we stopped to admire for a few minutes. Although it was a little hazy, a beautiful panorama opens up through the trees and over the jungle and valleys below in the direction of the Goan coast. Thick jungle stretched out in all directions as far as we could see. Rich in wildlife this forest is home to Leopard, Gaur, Sambar, Wild Boar and possibly the odd Tiger amongst a host of other species.

plastic bucket anyone?

Our target for the day was the town of Dandeli which we finally reached as the sun was dropping. The town is the gateway to Dandeli wildlife sanctuary, a large area of mountainous natural forest intersected by fast flowing rivers. For a considerable amount more than we paid for our modest hotel there are numerous lodges situated in the surrounding hills that cater to the tourist. The usual activities can be arranged, such as wildlife watching and crocodile tours but we chose to give them a miss. We checked a few of these lodges in the morning as we explored the surrounding area and I can’t say I was too impressed. For the money a guest would be paying one would easily expect a little less shabbiness and a bit more service! Maybe it’s just me but I would much prefer to stay in my tent if going on an excursion to the jungle!

Sunflowers that brightened up our early morning ride

New Years Eve was to be spent in Dandeli and what a treat it would turn out to be! Our first stop was Santosh’s restaurant which looked like a sure bet judging from the numbers of other customers. The menu also looked good, offering a wide variety of dishes, but it soon became apparent that the problem was going to be communication. I’m not sure if it was the fact that we were foreign, and so distracted the staff, or whether they were just completely inept. We were pretty hungry so a number of dishes were ordered, but when they arrived half seemed to have morphed into something else. I was particularly looking forward to Mutter Paneer which actually turned out to be a Masala Dosa. I enquired about the mix up and was assured that my Masala Dosa was really Mutter Paneer! It clearly wasn’t but from past experience I knew further discussion would only lead to heightened levels of confusion so reluctantly I traded the Dosa with Sam for some of his Panner tikka.

A night time sleeping roost used to keep an eye on the wild boar that might wreck the rice crop in a single night...doesn't look too comfortable to me, but that might be in the design to keep the night watchman awake!

After dinner we went in search of a party as it was New Years Eve after all! We walked about for a bit and asked a few likely looking characters where the action would be happening, but didn’t get any sure fire responses. Luckily earlier we had seen some guys setting some speakers up by a cross roads across town. Grabbing the bikes we headed up that way to find the party in full swing. Five or six guys were maniacally jumping about in the road as incredibly loud Hindi pop music bellowed from a couple of speakers. A very curious looking DJ sat slumped over a small CD player looking decidedly uninterested. It seemed every time he flicked to a new tune, the completely legless dancers would verbally abuse him until something more fitting played from the speakers. One guy, dressed more smartly than the others seemed to be somehow be keeping control of the New Years bash. We weren’t sure if he was a policeman but he seemed to get some respect from the drunkards and managed to keep a slither of order to the party. As I was about to light a cigarette one of the guys sprung across the road and snatched it from my lips before standing in front of me with an inane grin on his face. I was quite impressed by his brassiness, so decided to leave it as he was half my size and it was New Years after all!

Its a messy job preparing the the rice paddies!

Ten Minutes after joining the party it got a bit much so we decided to leave. The prospect of dancing on the roadside with a bunch of completely drunk idiots wasn’t too inviting so instead we went to a bar to drink a beer. As usual for a bar, it was packed, but luckily we managed to get one of the cubicles. Many bars in India have small booths to give the punters some privacy while they drink. It definitely makes you wonder if you should really be there while you sit and quietly sip your Kingfisher beer.

Every so often our curtain would pop back and an incredibly camp waiter would join us in the confined space. His question was, whether we wanted “nuts”, which started to get a little worrying when he came and asked for the fourth time. Other patrons seemed to be inquisitive about us and popped over to have a quick peak behind our curtain. Met by a friendly “Namaste” they scurried back to their seats looking a little embarrassed! After our beer we decided Dandeli had no more to offer in the entertainment area so retired to our hotel and issued the New Year in with a classic film none other than Rambo First Blood!

Coconuts on sale in a temple town

We carried on riding south and passed through the towns of Yellapur, Manchikeri, Sonda and Sirsa before reaching Banavasi. Between the villages and towns we passed through a mix of thick forest and agricultural land. In some areas people prepared the fields for the new rice crop. In other areas whole terraced valleys were being harvested of rice and hay stacks dotted the landscape The road then led us through Sorab, Sagar and on past Avinhalli, where soon after we decided to make camp for the night. As it was nearing dusk, the road was fairly busy, and not wanting to be seen leaving for the forest we waited for a lull in the traffic. When it came we followed a likely looking dirt track that ran down a small valley, through a small stream and off into the jungle. The track looked rarely used so we were pleased to have found a potentially quiet place to camp. But of course it was short lived, for as we tried to find the best way across the stream a small noisy blue tempo came bouncing down the track behind us. The driver was all smiles when I signalled to him that we were looking for somewhere to sleep. He happily pointed across the stream to the steep bumpy incline on the other side that vanished through the trees.

A mammoth water buffalo and his mates on the way to new grazing

When we had found our way across the stream we followed the track, and as it was very rugged made better time than our new friend in his three wheeled vehicle. Deciding to make a break for it we took a small path that wound across deserted fields. Soon finding ourselves in a maze of fields and low dry forest we chose a likely looking spot to bed down. A large pile of wood was collected, which considering we were in a forest was surprisingly hard to find. Local people had collected any dead and fallen wood so we had to work fairly hard to get a good supply for the evening. Not long later, after dark, we heard our tempo driving friend buzzing about in the surrounding forest obviously searching for us. It seemed certain that the fire would give us away but the noise slowly died out as he vanished into the night.

Village entrance framed by two ancient Banyan trees

We slept well, didn’t get eaten by a leopard and woke pretty damp from the night time dew. The cool wet morning was soon warmed up as the sun peeped over the trees and the new day began. Finding our way through the maze of paths and fields we joined the main road and headed towards a big dam that seemed to have a ferry service to the other side. Having asked lots of people whether we could cross the dam we had received a variety of answers. Most were positive but the means to actually cross the water couldn’t be verified until we actually reached the crossing point. From the information we had gathered it might have been a large bridge, possibly a very small bridge or if we were lucky a car ferry. If we were unlucky we would have to double back on ourselves. The map showed the road ending on both sides of the lake, but unfortunately with the map we were using this could have meant anything!

We considered stopping but unfortunately had fish on our minds!

Before we reached the dam we spotted water through the trees and bamboo by the side of the road so we pulled in to have a look. As we sat smoking a cigarette watching the water and wondering whether it contained any fish, a large fish, probably weighting 10kg leaped clear of the water. Impressed at what we had just seen, we scrambled for our rods and soon were casting spinners into the lake. It was a pretty slim chance of catching, as the fish had probably been some sort of carp but it was surely worth a go. I’d like to say that in the next few minutes we managed to land a huge Mahseer but instead we were just tormented by the same fish jumping twice more! We later worked out that the lake we were fishing was a tiny arm of the main lake, which we needed to cross to carry on south.

When we reached the main body of the lake it was pleasing to see a ferry ramp and a queue of people waiting for the boat. Impressed at the sheer size of the lake we also noted that swimming was out of the question thanks to the local crocodile population! With a bit of time to wait we ordered a couple of teas, took in the scene and wondering if any finned leviathans swam the waters of the vast lake. When the ferry did arrive it was also quite impressive, carrying an array of vehicles including buses and trucks. And after quite a commotion to get all the vehicles off the guard managed to cram an amazing number back on for the return journey. Dotted with islands covered with forest surrounded by deep blue water, the lake looked very inviting for a fisher but the question would be where on earth to fish! The sheer area of water meant fish could be very far from any bait thrown into the depths! Maybe next time! We were in for a surprise on the other side of the lake as the road deteriorated badly. We could only trundle along at 25km/h which made for slow going. After a few hundred meters, some guys heading the other way frantically shouted at us whilst pointing back down the road. Sam’s rods had been rattled from the side of the scooter and were lying perilously in the middle of the road. And at that moment a bus was heading directly for them! We prayed and somehow they survived the encounter. Relieved, we rattled onwards down the road. Because the wheels on the scooters are relatively small a bad road causes more problems than if you ride a normal motorbike. Still we weren’t in any rush so the slow pace wasn’t a major problem. Looking at the map it seemed the next town we needed to head towards was Nagar. As the map we used was pretty useless, we would ask directions for the place names that seemed to be in the direction we needed to go. Nagar however, seemed to have vanished into thin air. No matter how many people we asked, all we received was blank stares. We really couldn’t figure out how a town could disappear. We persevered and eventually one man’s face lit up as he realised we actually wanted Nagara and not Nagar. Amazingly no one had realised our mistake before! Happy that we had got to the bottom of things, it wasn’t long before we passed through Nagara and then later in the day reached Tirththalli where we took a room opposite the bus station for 400 rupees. The town was much like many other Indian towns and unless I missed a trick there’s not much to tell. We had a good feed and then on the way back got beckoned into a tailors shop. The tailor who was a lovely friendly man seemed desperate to show us his photo collection. Strangely enough it consisted of weirdly shaped fruit and vegetables he had found throughout his life in the local market. Many had been dressed up to resemble Hindu gods and deities particularly Ganesh the elephant god. Our interest waned after the first three photos of curious looking tomatoes, so by the time we reached the third album, it was beginning to feel like the early stages of torture! Luckily some random snaps of local animals such as flying squirrels occasionally popped up and kept my attention. When the tailor then brought out his photos from years and years of local dramas he had acted in, we knew we were done for. Fifteen minutes later we gave our excuses and made a hasty getaway to our hotel, making sure the door was locked. From Tirththalli we headed to one of the highlights of the motorbike journey. Sringeri is a small town situated in Chikmagalur district in the Western Ghats and thanks to a riverside temple, it is particularly interesting to passing anglers. The Vidyashankara temple on the banks of the Tunga River is quite picturesque but it’s not until you glance into the river that you notice why we were interested in visiting. Thousands upon thousands of Mahseer swim unhurried in the gin clear waters lapping up offerings from the visiting pilgrims who line the riverside ghats. The water is black with fish ranging from a few pounds, up to the biggest that may push the scales up to 20 pounds. Completely protected by the temple, the Mahseer have no fear of humans and will happily suck pieces of bread from your fingers. The competition for food is fierce, so your fingers usually get a tasting as well, but luckily with no true teeth the fish will leave no worse for wear. It was a truly mesmerising sight to see so many of these fine fish milling around in the river. The pilgrims seemed to share our opinions and took delight in throwing popped rice and dried bread into the shallow water. Everytime a handful of goodies landed on the waters surface, fish would erupt with mouths open to hoover up the easy meal. We were surprised to suddenly see all the onlookers gasp and retreat from the waters edge, and we soon saw the reason. A coppery yellow snake had popped out from somewhere and had decided to swim downstream much to everyone’s surprise. Below the crowd it vanished between the big smooth riverside stones and business was soon back to normal. As the heat of day was increasing we were soon back on the bikes heading through tea and coffee plantations in the direction of Chikmagalur. We didn’t stop in the city but carried on through and then later passed the famous temple town of Belur hoping to find a camping spot soon after the town as evening was approaching. The heavy agricultural landscape meant finding a quiet spot might be hard to locate but luckily it wasn’t long until a small plantation of trees emerged a few hundred meters from the road. Pleased with a good looking campsite we started settling down for the evening when Sam pointed behind me at some ominous looking black clouds. With no tents or any cover it was crucial that we made the correct decision. If we got it wrong and it started raining in the middle of the night we would not be happy campers! As a breeze picked up it looked quite possible that a storm might arrive in the next hour, so the plan was to ride another 20km to the city of Hassan. We hadn’t planned to ride at night due to the increased danger but figured we would take it slow and steady. Hassan wasn’t really a delight on the eyes. Potholed roads and heavy traffic welcomed us into the city which we quickly decided we would leave at the first opportunity. Searching out a hotel we discovered we couldn’t park on the main street but would have to go leave the bikes in pay parking around the corner. A young room boy, Shridar came with us to show where we could park the bikes and amazingly before we left and before he had even showed me the room he was asking for his tip which I decided he would have to try a little harder for. Eventually later in the evening when we had eaten and he had knocked on the door, for the fourth time he earned his ten rupees for no real reason. Early morning and we were off as we still hadn’t taken a shine to Hassan. The idea of going to catch a Mahseer was far more exciting than wasting another minute in such a city. And later in the day after a long ride negotiating some terrible roads we finally reached our destination after six days of being on the bikes. The river looked fantastic as ever and as usual an occasional big Mahseer rolled showing off its fantastically angled fins. We had planned to stay in a nearby town for the night but as the accommodation at the river was empty we took the second option despite our severe lack of food. A packet of orange creams had to see us through until the next day but it was worth it as we were immediately out on the water casting lures for Mahseer. Although they weren’t big fish we both managed to land a fish on the first outing which was a good omen for the rest of the trip. To be back fishing in such a special place was really great and the best was we had two weeks to enjoy the surroundings as well as the fishing. Early next morning we headed off to the town around 25km away and loaded up with provisions for the next two weeks. It was quite amazing quite how much we could fit on the two scooters and there was definitely not the smallest spot spare on the way home. We would have to make some return trips for vegetables and other perishables but we had a good supply of food and bait to keep us going for the next days. What we didn’t have was a gas stove which we arranged to pick up after the weekend. It looked like we would be cooking on the open fire until then, which was not a problem apart from it would eat into our fishing time!

We quickly discovered that slightly downstream from where we were staying was a small fig tree covered in juicy red figs overhanging the river. Every time a Parrot, Hornbill or Myna landed in the tree and started pecking at the fruit, the disturbance caused figs to fall into the river below. Waiting under the tree were hungry fish ready to intercept the easy meal. It was natural pre-baiting in action and it seemed to working well as constant swirls and slurps gave the fishes presence away. Climbing up into the tree gave the only chance to put a bait into a place where it was likely to get snaffled and if it did, things would be tight as branches didn’t give much scope for rod movement. A small sharp owner that was light enough for the fig to still float was chosen as a hook. A bright red juicy fig was slid on and an underarm swing was all that was needed to see it plop into the strike zone. The fig hardly had time to hit the water before a small Mahseer inhaled it and began a scrappy fight directly beneath me. With a net ready placed and the aid of Sam we soon had the fish in the net which was then soon followed by another. The third fish was a nice surprise as it turned out to be a lovely Carnatic Carp of almost two kilos. It seemed it wasn’t just the Mahseer enjoying the fruit breakfast! The Carp spelled the end of the action until the shoal got its confidence back after we had pushed off. It was quite amazing to see how switched on the fish were, as any wrong move would put them off immediately. Even a fig hook bait landing with a slightly different splash than normal would make them incredibly suspicious, and usually see them vanish into the depths. Our game plan for the two weeks was to fish bait in a couple of spots and then patrol the rest of the stretch with lures. Both approaches had been kind to us in the past and only time would tell if they would produce. And it wasn’t long until we got lucky on the bait. Just returning from the room where I had been to fetch a live bait rod I heard Sam shouting from our fishing spot. I dropped my rod and ran down the bank to find Sam well and truly attached to a big fish. He had just recast his tennis ball sized ragi bait, which had produced a bite almost immediately. Amazingly it didn’t take long to subdue a beast of a Mahseer and after just a few minutes we could relax as the fish lay quietly in the big landing net. Estimated as a good 40lb+ fish we were over the moon at getting such a good fish early on in the trip.

We quickly fell in a routine and usually woke early after a cool damp night sleeping on the veranda of the cottage. Each morning the river was shrouded with a thick cloak of mist that would slowly melt away as the hot sun broke over the tree tops. It was a truly magical part of the day to sit waiting for the line to pull tight while watching mist flow delicately across the river’s surface. Zephyrs played with the morning mist creating thin vortexes that carried the vapours high into the sky. It was the part of the day when the river was truly alive. Birds were at their busiest, singing their hearts out and gathering as much food as possible before the heat of the day drove them into the cooler forest. Usually a troop of monkeys would pass along the far bank looking for tasty morsels in the over hanging trees; while we were there Flame of the forest flowers would do nicely as a breakfast. A few times we even saw the resident otters although they soon became aware of our presence and melted away to find quieter hunting grounds.

As the rising sun burnt the mist away and the morning chill began to break we watched as a mountain hawk eagle built its nest in a larger wild mango tree on the far bank. As soon as the large raptor had dried its damp feathers it would go off in search of twigs and would often land in the tree above us. Once it was satisfied with the material it had found we would see it gliding gracefully back to its nest tree. Usually after half an hour of watching the show a cheeky forest crow would arrive for some morning eagle taunting. It’s well known that crows have a strong dislike of raptors which this one demonstrated perfectly. The game would start with the crow sitting on a branch close to the eagle’s tree and teasing the large bird with its hoarse call. When the eagle could stand it no longer a short flight would be made to see the cheeky corvid off. Unfortunately for the eagle the crow would nimbly hop to another perch and begin the taunting again. This would continue for around twenty minutes until the crow was sitting almost within reach of the eagle but everyday when I thought the crow was about to get its comeuppance it would fly off up the river letting out calls of joy as it went!

If we decided to fish lures in the morning we would take to the coracle and drift along the river flicking lures under the overhanging trees and into any other likely looking places that might hold fish. The conditions are critical for lure fishing and if they are slightly off the fishing will prove to be very difficult. And of course having a go is usually the best way to determine whether the fish are interested in eating colourful piece of plastic. As the lures had already been successful we thrashed the water to foam and landed some more small Mahseer. It wasn’t until one evening when I decided to take a walk up stream that the first good fish would fall to an artificial bait. As the bait fishing hadn’t produced any bites all day, boredom had set in so I was keen for a walk to stretch my legs and check some spots out.

I decided to take my small spinning rod as I would only cast some lighter lures for fish up to around ten pounds. It was good to cover the bank on foot as it gives the opportunity to study the water and spot fish before they cotton on to your presence, which is very difficult from the coracle. Often in a quiet bay it’s possible to see a shoal of small Mahseer feeding from the surface, as they mill around taking in some of the warmth from the sun. Catching them is another story so it’s usually best to enjoy the sight before quietly moving on to see what’s around the next corner. As the river and bank is a rich habitat for frogs and lizards, large numbers of snakes also call it their home. Engrossed in looking for fish it is easy to miss these riverside inhabitants, so care must be taken when walking in the long grass.

As I reached some shallower water below some rapids I had the feeling that there was going to be some decent fish hanging around, that might be interested in feeding now the light was beginning to fade as evening approached. I was quite wrong to expect that there would be no large fish in the shallows, but that was what I believed, as I had never really had luck in the spot before. Third cast and something big and angry intercepted the lure just as it arrived at the junction of currents. The fish initially moved away slowly but soon realised something was wrong and took off downstream on a 100 yard run leaving me hanging on to the rod for dear life. The line evaporated from my spool extremely quickly until I realised there was the impeding danger of getting spooled.

Without really having the power to stop the fish, as I was only using a light rod I decided not to try and lock the reel, but see if I could follow downstream. Jumping across the rocks I ran down the bank and managed to pass the rod over a large bush growing by the side of the river. I was starting to realise I would be extremely lucky if I landed the fish on the end of the my line. At this point the line became caught on a rock mid river giving the appearance that the fish was relatively close by. Suddenly the line pinged free I could immediately see how far away the fish was. My luck continued as the Masheer stopped and changed direction and started heading to the bank on which I was standing. Now at least I could turn the big fish and possibly start to make up some lost line. It was touch and go, plus I had reached the limit of following the bank downstream as a big bamboo thicket blocked any further progress. Luckily my little oceanmaster spinning rod has a bit of power packed away down low which came into play as I steered the fish up stream.

I couldn’t believe that it was still on the line after the previous few minutes of mayhem but as it was, it might just get landed. I prayed luck would be on my side as I gently tried to bring the fish towards my bank, knowing all along the hooks weren’t the best in the world. Every time a convenient rock presented itself the Mahseer would dive to sanctuary and without a height advantage to guide the fish out, a game of cat and mouse emerged; patience was the name of the game and slowly the big fish came closer. I soon realised that to get this surprise fish onto the bank I would have to climb into the river to land it. I’d already waded to follow the fish downstream, but this time I might have to go into chest deep water, which meant stripping to my undies, which was easier said than done. Trying to undo Velcro sandals with one hand, while trying to play a big Mahseer with the other arm is not all that easy. Expecting this moment to be my undoing I was happy to get my shorts off, which had my camera attached to the belt meaning I could safely climb into the water.

I stood waist deep in the water and had only one more submerged rock to negotiate before the prize was mine. As the Mahseer rolled over I made a grab for its big mouth and managed to get a grip on its rubbery lips enabling me to pull it towards the bank. Once safely on dry land I unhooked the fantastic looking stocky fish before snapping off a quick photo. With out scales I guessed it was 35lb + but whatever, it was an amazing fish that had just given me one of the best fights I had experienced. I’ll definitely not forget the noise the reel made on the fishes initial run. It reached a pitch I hadn’t heard before which made me think something distinctly untoward was about to happen. However for once luck was well and truly on my side, which along with some careful playing let me land one of my most memorable fish. Buzzing for the rest of the evening I fell asleep replaying that amazing fight in my mind.

Over the next few days we had a couple of disasters, losing a couple of very decent fish. Sam hooked a biggy on a lure from the bank but got well and truly smoked. The bait fishing was slow and the couple of bites we did have were either missed or led to the fish heading straight for the snags and shedding the hook. A bit of luck did present itself after we had spent most of the day having lunch with a friend. As we had been invited to arrive at his place at 9am, we’d skipped breakfast thinking we wouldn’t have to wait too long for a feed. We imagined that we could be back at the river fishing by eleven at the latest! We were very wrong! What we didn’t realise was, we first had to ride 30km to buy ingredients for the lunch. And then after having a load of brandy thrust upon us we eventually ate we ate a delicious pork curry at one o’clock!

Relieved to finally get back to the river at two o’clock, we immediately grabbed our rods and headed out in the coracle to flick lures. Half drunk, it was a great afternoons fishing, which suddenly got even better when I latched into a good fish. With Sam paddling us away from snags and rock bars we followed the fish about the river trying desperately to gain some line. After a damn good fight we slipped the net under a beautiful fish of around 40lb. Pulling up on a small island, Sam clicked off some great photos before we released the fantastic beast back into the river.

The next night we decided to sit it out with bait and see if the fish would feed after dark. Not having had success a night before we fancied giving it more of a go to see what might happen. With the night becoming a little cold we sat wrapped in blankets, holding our rods waiting for an almighty Mahseer bite. It was exciting stuff as sitting in the dark let us concentrate fully on what was happening to our baits. Every small knock on the line was immediately felt which had our muscles tensing ready for a possible savage bite.

After a few hours nothing had happened apart from leopard had started to grunt from somewhere down the bank. We were both beginning to feel the cold and were starting to doze off as it must have been nearing midnight. Apart from the leopard and the croaking frogs the river seemed to be sleeping. That’s what I was starting to think until Sam suddenly burst into life. Once second complete stillness, the next complete mayhem! Line flew off the reel as Sam tried to gain some sort of control without slipping into the river. The plan was to jump into the coracle and get after the fish before it found its way to some submerged snag. It was too late though as after just a few seconds the fish found a rocky snag which the 40lb mono couldn’t withstand. The adrenaline had surged in those few moments leaving us quivering on the bank wondering how it could have ended so fast. Calling it a night we skulked back to the cottage hoping the fun was over and that we wouldn’t meet old spotty on our walk home.

The same spot saw us lose a fish a few days later…again a big fish. Concentration had begun to wane after sitting for a good few hours. Nothing had happened apart from the usual small fish knocking at the bait. I sat with my rod leaning on a forked stick with the butt just a few inches from my hand and found myself wondering whether I would be quick enough to grab the rod should I be lucky enough to get a bite. After much careful visualisation I came to the conclusion that there was no way on earth a fish could pull the rod into the river before I could grab it.

I must have been concentrating far too hard as suddenly my fishing rod became animated and flew towards the river. For a split second I felt paralysed and could only watch as the rod landed a couple of feet below me in the waters edge. Like a cat I sprung forwards and dived head first into the river to retrieve my rod. Back on land after a few seconds of flaying around in the mud I jumped into the coracle to try and get after the fish before it was too late. Sam was still trying to work out what had just happened, but before he could follow me into the boat the line went limp and it was all over. It seemed these sneaky Mahseer all knew about a sharp rock beneath the waters surface that they used to cut unsuspecting anglers lines.. It all happened so fast that Sam had missed the show and asked whether I had slipped and fallen in to the river! While I climbed back into the river to retrieve my flip flops that were stuck under the water in the mud I explained what had happened. It was all quite amusing and luckily for me it wasn’t on film! After we got it together and stopped laughing we came to the conclusion that a break was in order as it seemed fish depression was on the verge of setting in!