tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2432082066388360412023-12-15T16:07:07.153-08:00Mosquitoes, Sweat and Barra Boofs: Land Based Fishing in the Northern TerritoryThe Northern Territory is blessed with some of the best angling on the planet, even without a boat. In this blog I report and document my experiments, successes and failures in catching any species of fish silly enough to let me hook it using the lightest tackle I can get away with. All land based, of course!The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-28303400727826683162013-06-21T18:11:00.004-07:002013-06-21T18:13:05.147-07:00An Evening Flick at Cahill's Crossing<style>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYD0nkPt9NwGSrxJBCDLgumQ-1Z19MyxAOXOaMkaRPmlX1dWDwMKLPatJU6STtNgVA0LdG89Fyoitj4LabFS-lR3UAmddAOM7ef7QzcQYcxDPrn8rjnIwVVFF6u1-Anz7VkuiMEIIln1Ax/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-06-21+at+12.56.23+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYD0nkPt9NwGSrxJBCDLgumQ-1Z19MyxAOXOaMkaRPmlX1dWDwMKLPatJU6STtNgVA0LdG89Fyoitj4LabFS-lR3UAmddAOM7ef7QzcQYcxDPrn8rjnIwVVFF6u1-Anz7VkuiMEIIln1Ax/s320/Screen+shot+2013-06-21+at+12.56.23+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .1pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: .1pt;">
My
partner and I had promised to take a friend to Kakadu for a few nights,
including a trip to the wonderful Injalak rock-art site overlooking Gunbalanya
in Arnhem Land. Luckily for me, this meant staying a night near
Ubir. As my girlfriend and friend scampered up the escarpment at Ubir to
watch the magnificent sunset, I was glady dumped by the East Alligator River.</div>
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The
tide was on the rise, and already turgid, salty water surged upstream across
the famous barrage.</div>
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Unfortunately,
having had too many coffees for the drive, the excitement was too much for me,
especially seeing a fish landed - just under legal length - upon my arrival.</div>
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As
is often the case, the small stretch of barrage not under water, from whence
anglers cast upstream, was shoulder to shoulder with travelers casting their
paddle-tailed shads on wire traces.</div>
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I
took to navigating the downstream rocks, where I'd often pulled a few fish
casting back towards the barrage using Megabass X-Layer stickbaits. But
after all that coffee, and finally getting to have a 'proper' fish for the
first time in a few weeks, my concentration was shattered into bubbles and froth.
Every several casts I changed lures, irrespective of whether I had received
strikes or not.</div>
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This
habit of mine is not always detrimental: usually I will count 10 or so casts
with a lure, and if no strikes are forthcoming, I'll try a different pattern and
tactic. But when, first cast, a 70cm bucket-mouthed barra bursts through
the surface at your first-cast popper, it may be prudent not to change lures
next cast, but persist with the technique. Despite the noise of the
current, several upstream anglers heard the loud BOOF of this popper-hungry
fish, turning to see me shaking my head in exasperation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Eventually
the pristine natural environment had its right effect and I calmed down and
attended to the task of catching fish. Which got me thinking about
fishing and chance.</div>
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How
can one tell whether the fish one is catching are due to an angler's skill
urging the odds in one's favour, or whether a hooked fish is utterly a chance
event?</div>
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<br /></div>
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To
be honest, even though I know of people who certainly target big barramundi
and, with their accumulated skill and experience, actually do catch their
target, in my general experience most big barra I see anglers catch in the
land-based location I fish seem to me great gifts of chance.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezuymMKZ5UFzn9gItAiBUXkDifRDNgDWRu5DNW5D5m-85kXr5wsHEdWyY9ffbituEEgUvNqpzpiRFxUUX3XkJcwuC1Lg_3pRax_PTE3WAkT8CZXy8wUCpU6IbulIby7TFxKj9XYIRH09A/s1600/Cahills+19th+Juno5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezuymMKZ5UFzn9gItAiBUXkDifRDNgDWRu5DNW5D5m-85kXr5wsHEdWyY9ffbituEEgUvNqpzpiRFxUUX3XkJcwuC1Lg_3pRax_PTE3WAkT8CZXy8wUCpU6IbulIby7TFxKj9XYIRH09A/s320/Cahills+19th+Juno5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The
task of angling technique and nous is to badger chance into one's favour.
Which means the angler who has in part bent chance his or her way must catch
fish when fish are not being caught, and when fish are being caught he or she
must catch more than other anglers. Is this not what tournament fishing
success finally measures: not the odd success here and there, but regularly
catching fish in various conditions and diverse environments?</div>
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It
would be a lie to state that caught fish are not inscribed into the personality
of the angler as an aspect of their skill and expertise, and the bigger, well,
the better - the currency of catching big fish, and the bad habit of dismissing
small fish, too often is given over to a kind of machismo, much like that
particularly male fascination with penis size (by which I mean that study after
study has shown that men are more obsessed with some kind of correlation
between penis length, fecundity and masculinity than are women, the latter of
whom studies show care more about how the male tool is used). Don't get
me wrong: big fish are awesome fun to catch, and each time I go fishing I hope
to land a big, shimmering fish! Every angler dreams of 'the big
one'. But as we all know, fishing is more than just a photo and a
brag. It is about where it takes us, and how it makes us specifically
concentrate on shining splinters of nature in that strangely beautiful, watery
world wherein these creatures live. On top of this, every fish is a
bonus. Even if nothing is caught, a day spent casting lures into a forested
stream is unarguably better than any day at work!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqhmd64CeU2BwKTr5Q1IR_cJo6TKfLZydWi8SHVzDsDd5mBhR1QbXJcRR45LWhp9DKjIzFBRqjW-ZKw8In7Etuv4raq4XL7CL3dmEcbigvPKfLRx4vZnjhN7RhqAKE-t_yqH-k1IhJH2d/s1600/Screen+shot+2013-06-22+at+10.33.30+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqhmd64CeU2BwKTr5Q1IR_cJo6TKfLZydWi8SHVzDsDd5mBhR1QbXJcRR45LWhp9DKjIzFBRqjW-ZKw8In7Etuv4raq4XL7CL3dmEcbigvPKfLRx4vZnjhN7RhqAKE-t_yqH-k1IhJH2d/s320/Screen+shot+2013-06-22+at+10.33.30+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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If
we anglers admit that our art is largely a matter of chance, and that angler
skill is a means of asking chance's favour in regular bursts, the conflation of
big fish with a man's ego can be seen in a different, perhaps even mystical
light: as a gift one has worked at rather than a correlation in the world
between a wild fish and the purported breadth of one's masculinity. I
can't here help but think about the gigantic, albeit exhausted smile on Steve
Starling's face when chance brought to his undeniable angling and fish-playing
skill that huge Queenfish last year. Starlo just loves catching fish,
large and small, and that smile of his is the greatest recognition of the gift
to experience each fish is.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXBr_UGUbeQNkLbA4sYnG4vFbFVdMd02_w4LHOwQVDhBymUSTZ-qOW8yEBy0hc7V4uFVjqJgro7ep48BZsX0hTGUvlQMzT0urqmPRcgpHszAd0ovorn3HA-TJO4mWpG89foeQmP5yh92u/s1600/Cahills+19th+Juno1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwXBr_UGUbeQNkLbA4sYnG4vFbFVdMd02_w4LHOwQVDhBymUSTZ-qOW8yEBy0hc7V4uFVjqJgro7ep48BZsX0hTGUvlQMzT0urqmPRcgpHszAd0ovorn3HA-TJO4mWpG89foeQmP5yh92u/s320/Cahills+19th+Juno1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Back
to Cahill's Crossing, and the bending of chance: it wasn't long before
the crowd of upstream anglers, with no more fish forthcoming, left.
Feeling more capable of attentive concentration, I decided to take the now open
space and try the technique that had recently been serving me well at Shady
Camp. 70mm to 85mm minnow style hardbodies with only a single hook facing
upward on the rear, rolled against the current. It was not long before I
received a hit. Then a few casts later, a little barra of about 50 cm was
leaping clear of the water with my megabass X-70 in its corner mouth.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A
few casts after and, despite using single hooks, the lure snagged. The
rocks around the Cahill's barrage seem as sharp as oystered rocks, and it is
the place I most lose lures. If it weren't for the crocs. I'd be
snorkelling there for all I've lost. Using single hooks instead of
trebles definitely aids the snagless cause. Yet that X-70, which had
reaped me at least 30 fish from the Shady Camp barrage this year, now rests in
the East Alligator.</div>
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<br /></div>
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As
a replacement I attached my 35lb snap to a beautiful Smith Cherryblood I'd
bought in Japan. This lure had already landed me one nice barra from a
land-based position in Darwin Harbour, but it also contained a nostalgia for
Japan, so I hadn't tied it on often for fear of losing it.</div>
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When
fishing downstream, I had tried many different sized lures in order to discern
what the barra may be feeding upon. I couldn't see any baitfish in the
water to 'match the hatch', so trial and error combined with experience led me
to use what may be called, for barra at least, 'common denominator' lures:
lures that matched the average size of mullet I see up North in many
places. Barra, like most predators, wish to expend the least amount of
energy for the most food, so will eat what is most available and available in
the easiest way. This is why the idiots whom I have seen wading in places
like the Mary River - which has this country's highest concentration of
saltwater crocodiles - do not regularly get eaten: there are more fish that,
surprisingly, require less effort than stalking a drunk human. It is a
common myth that big barra pursue only big mullet. It is true in come
circumstances, but, in short, larger baitfish swim faster and have survived
longer. This means that a) they are more aware and afraid of predators
and b) their speed means that that a predator needs to swim faster to catch
them. Barra are lazy fish that like to feed by stealth, gliding calmly up
beneath baitfish before boofing them, or ambushing bait from a hide.
These days, I rarely take any Bomber sized lures with me on my freshwater
angling adventures.</div>
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The
Smith Cherrybloods cast remarkably far, have a great action and are realistic
with artful design and finish: they really look like fish. After a few
casts, I was soon attached to a better fish that measured just on 68cm.
Several casts later, after a solid fight of around ten minutes with only a
little head-shaking and tail-walking, I set the fish grips across the lips of a
weighty 76cm barramundi. Two casts later and the hook of the Cherryblood
was set on an even larger fish. After a few fighting minutes, my 16lb
Varivas Seabass PE horribly grated against a submerged rock. The line
fell limp. 15 minutes later I witnessed a fish, estimated between 80cm -
90cm, leap several times across the river in an attempt to throw the
still-attached little Cheeryblood from its cavernous mouth. I was in
control of the fish the entire time before the line frayed. I was using
20lb Toray Solaroam fluorocarbon for my leader material, and had only minimal
abrasion with the fish I landed. This proves that using quality fluoro
makes a difference, allowing an angler to get away with thinner leaders with
confidence.</div>
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I
lost one other fish to my PE cutting, likely to the same rock, that felt to be
around 70cm. All this action occured in a frame of 45 minutes, and I was
still getting hits on the Megabass Trick Darter I tied on next when my arriving
girlfriend gave me the move-on order.</div>
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I
was using a 2500S High Gear Stella (JDM) matched to a 5 -12lb Shimano World
Shaula - Shimano Japan's top of the line two piece rod (2751R-2). Having
recently been playing around with my new Megabass Kirisame on smaller fish,
with a few pelagics thrown in, the superior blank quality of the Shimano rod
was quite evident - the smallest tap was felt as with the excellent Kirisame
blank, but there was more of a subtle feel with that hum one gets from a Loomis
GLX blank combined with Megabass' crisp sensitivity. I would not consider
this combo a particularly light barra set-up compared to some of my other
combos, but after fighting a few larger fish with ease, I am confident this
combo could readily tackle meter plus barra. Shimano's World Shaula
series are certainly built for battling big sportsfish - the 2751R-2 was
designed in part for targeting Bonefish with light lures. I've already
hooked a few tough Mahseer on the same combo in Thailand. If you have the
funds - or fanatical fishing idiocy for high-end Japanese gear you can't quite
afford but buy nonetheless - this rod is absolute perfection for all land-based
barramundi fishing with lures. It casts unweighted plastics accurately,
whilst not feeling under-gunned with a Megabass Vision 110 on the end of the
leader.</div>
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-35286609282671073782013-06-11T19:45:00.000-07:002013-06-11T19:46:31.347-07:00After a Hiatus... When Small Means More than catching None!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sorry to anyone who may have been attempting to follow this blog. I have had some internet access problems of late and, to be honest, have been working so much that my fishing time has been scarce. </div>
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Hence so little movement of words in this here internets space!</div>
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I'll soon start uploading all my older NT News articles, with some in an expanded form, as well as contributing a few more philosophical takes on why angling has so many of us obsessed. <br />
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Recently my favourite thing to do, fishing-wise of course, has been wading the shallows of Darwin beaches in search of small pelagics. I discovered this quite by surprise. I had seen schools of immature queenfish before when stalking whiting, but had not targeted them. This all changed recently thanks to one of those discoveries angling thrives upon: a happy accident.<br />
I was searching for small barra around the base of a local boat ramp when i saw the easily recognisable, frenetic trajectory of some small pelagic species circling my popper. A few had a brash snap at it to no avail. I put on a larger ITO Craft Emishi - a sinking Japanese trout lure, beautifully designed, built for a fast retrieve. <br />
After a few casts I was solidly hooked. Following a dignified battle against my Megabass Kirisame and little Shimano Vanquish with 10lb braid, i soon set the fish grips around the dangerous lips of a 50cm barracuda. I have hooked a few of these on ITO craft lures lately, with single hooks attached. Now this barracuda is not the discovery. Rather, it was where it was hanging around: a few submerged rocks on sand-flats. When the tide is at a certain height, wash gathers around the top of these rocks with each passing wave. Golden trevally and GTs especially have a fondness for rocks with wash. Suddenly these small outposts of reef on sand became pelagic venues in miniature.<br />
When I next visited the same location, first using 3lb nylon straight through to the hook, i put a tiny sprat imitation on about a size 6 jighead and cast at these rocks wherever I saw some wash emerging at their tops. These lures had brought me success with trevally in Borneo, and soon I was solidly hooked onto a little golden trevally, with several following its fight. Great fun on light tackle, and all a 10 minute stroll from my home!<br />
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After several of these, i sight cast at some flashes in only a few inches of water and hooked a baby queenfish.<br />
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Not long thereafter i became attached to something somewhat more solid, then the line went limp. I changed combos - having no abrasion resistance with 3lb monofilament, despite the fun - and kept up the catch rate of small trevors. I even had a few follows from much larger fish.<br />
The problem with this kind of fishing is the retrieve rate: i find that one has to wind maniacally with trevally over flats. The larger fish just were not impressed with the speed, despite winding my Steez as fast as was able whilst maintaining some suitable lure action. They wanted something faster! That is why i have high speed reels like the high gear Vanquish and Stella... unfortunately I brought a 1003 Luvias and 2004 Steez that day, both with standard retrieve rates<br />
Oddly, i have found that all species of fish I target around Darwin on lures have been preferring high speed retrieves lately: not just tarpon and young giant herring, but barra, mangrove jack and, yes, even a few bream. For someone whose lure-training was largely in dialogue with the habits of Southerly bream species, this is quite counter intuitive.<br />
I suspect it is due to there being quite a few herring around at present, a fish that is very flighty and fast for its size. Hence high speed retrieves are mimicking this harried food fish.<br />
I've since returned again to the area, and caught another half dozen small pelagics in 45 minutes or so, as well as a few whiting and young fingermark. <br />
I love catching any fish I can regardless of size. To be able to stroll down the street, in the midst of a busy work schedule, and catch a handful of small pelagics on light tackle... much better than an afterwork beer!<br />
Hopefully I can again soon start working less, fishing more and working out how to catch those few larger pelagics i have seen on the flats!The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-17777367170681822412013-05-03T20:23:00.002-07:002013-05-03T20:41:44.897-07:00Fish, by D H Lawrence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fish, oh Fish,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">So little matters!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Whether the waters rise and cover the earth</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Or whether the waters wilt in the hollow places,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">All one to you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Aqueous, subaqueous,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Submerged</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And wave-thrilled.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">As the waters roll</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Roll you.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">The waters wash,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">You wash in oneness</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And never emerge.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Never know,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Never grasp.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Your life a sluice of sensation along your sides,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">A flush at the flails of your fins, down the whorl of your</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> tail.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And water wetly on fire in the grates of your gills;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fixed water-eyes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Even snakes lie together.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">But oh, fish, that rock in water.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">You lie only with the waters;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">One touch.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">No fingers, no hands and feet, no lips;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">No tender muzzles,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">No wistful bellies,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">No loins of desire,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">None.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">You and the naked element.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Sway-wave.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Curvetting bits of tin in the evening light.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Who is it ejects his sperm to the naked flood?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">In the wave-mother?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Who swims enwombed ?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Who lies with the waters of his silent passion, womb-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> element?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">—Fish in the waters under the earth.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">What price <em style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">his</em> bread upon the waters?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Himself all silvery himself</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">In the element</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">No more.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Nothing more.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Himself,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And the element.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Food, of course!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Water-eager eyes,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Mouth-gate open</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And strong spine urging, driving;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And desirous belly gulping.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fear also!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">He knows fear!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Water-eyes craning,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">A rush that almost screams,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Almost fish-voice</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">As the pike comes…</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Then gay fear, that turns the tail sprightly, from a shadow.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Food, and fear, and joie de vivre.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Without love.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">The other way about:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Joie de vivre, and fear, and food,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">All without love.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Quelle joie de vivre</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Dans I’eau!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Slowly to gape through the waters,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Alone with the element;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To sink, and rise, and go to sleep with the waters;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To speak endless inaudible wavelets into the wave;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To breathe from the flood at the gills,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fish-blood slowly running next to the flood, extracting fish-</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> fire;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To have the element under one, like a lover;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And to spring away with a curvetting click in the air,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Provocative.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Dropping back with a slap on the face of the flood.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And merging oneself!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To be a fish !</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">So utterly without misgiving</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To be a fish</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">In the waters.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Loveless, and so lively!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Born before God was love,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Or life knew loving.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Beautifully beforehand with it all.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Admitted, they swarm in companies,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fishes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">They drive in shoals.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">But soundless, and out of contact.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">They exchange no word, no spasm, not even anger.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Not one touch.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Many suspended together, forever apart.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Each one alone with the waters, upon one wave with the rest.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">A magnetism in the water between them only.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I saw a water-serpent swim across the Anapo,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And I said to my heart, <em style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">look, look at him!<br />With his head up, steering like a bird!<br />He’s a rare one, but he belongs…</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">But sitting in a boat on the Zeller lake</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And watching the fishes in the breathing waters</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Lift and swim and go their way—</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 5px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I said to my heart, <em style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">who are these?</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And my heart couldn’t own them…</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">A slim young pike, with smart fins</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And grey-striped suit, a young cub of a pike</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Slouching along away below, half out of sight,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Like a lout on an obscure pavement…</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Aha, there’s somebody in the know!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">But watching closer</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">That motionless deadly motion,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">That unnatural barrel body, that long ghoul nose,…</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I left off hailing him.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I had made a mistake, I didn’t know him,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">This grey, monotonous soul in the water,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">This intense individual in shadow,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fish-alive.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I didn’t know his God,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I didn’t know his God.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Which is perhaps the last admission that life has to wring</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> out of us.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I saw, dimly,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Once a big pike rush.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And small fish fly like splinters.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And I said to my heart, <em style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">there are limits<br />To you, my heart;<br />And to the one God.<br />Fish are beyond me.</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Other Gods</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Beyond my range… gods beyond my God. .</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 5px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">They are beyond me, are fishes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I stand at the pale of my being</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And look beyond, and see</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fish, in the outerwards,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">As one stands on a bank and looks in.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I have waited with a long rod</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And suddenly pulled a gold-and-greenish, lucent fish from</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> below,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And had him fly like a halo round my head,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Lunging in the air on the line.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Unhooked his gorping, water-horny mouth.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And seen his horror-tilted eye,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">His red-gold, water-precious, mirror-flat bright eye;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And felt him beat in my hand, with his mucous, leaping</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> life-throb.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And my heart accused itself</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Thinking: <em style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;">I am not the measure of creation.<br />This is beyond me, this fish.<br />His God stands outside my God.</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And the goId-and-green pure lacquer-mucus comes off in my</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> hand.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And the red-gold mirror-eye stares and dies,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And the water-suave contour dims.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">But not before I have had to know</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">He was born in front of my sunrise.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Before my day.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">He outstarts me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And I, a many-fingered horror of daylight to him,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Have made him die.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Fishes,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">With their gold, red eyes, and green-pure gleam, and</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"> under-gold.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And their pre-world loneliness,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And more-than-lovelessness.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And white meat;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">They move in other circles.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Outsiders.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Water-wayfarers.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Things of one element.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Aqueous,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Each by itself.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Cats, and the Neapolitans,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Sulphur sun-beasts.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Thirst for fish as for more-than-water;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Water-alive</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">To quench their over-sulphureous lusts.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">But I, I only wonder</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And don’t know.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">I don’t know fishes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">In the beginning</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">Jesus was called The Fish.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">And in the end.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;"><br /></span>
<em style="margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: red;">From “Birds, Beasts, And Flowers: Poems By D. H. Lawrence.”</span></em><br />
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The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-82360120566494522692013-04-14T22:30:00.001-07:002013-04-14T22:30:45.156-07:00Vic McCristal: Tracks on a Trackless Ocean<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>It is easy to fall into the trap of over-simplifying the human equations that apply to fishing.</i><br />
<i>- Vic McCristal</i><br />
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Recently I have been purchasing all the Vic McCristal books I can get my hands on.<br />
McCristal is rightfully regarded by many Australian anglers as the greatest fishing writer this vast country has produced. There are two sides to this claim. First and foremost, McCristal was an innovative and thoughtful angler who brought light sport fishing techniques to the mouths of many Australian fish who had previously known only net, handline and spear. As far as I know, he was the first fishing writer to <i>systematically</i> write about the wilds of what is now Kakadu and the Kimberley region and to describe lure techniques for coercing these areas' mighty angling species. <br />
McCristal conversed with fisheries scientists and every informed source he could meet in order to understand Australian angling species. He had a special respect for tarpon and giant herring, fish that today I still believe are largely under-rater by Northern anglers, who bypass these species for, well, tastier fish; or else do not target these wonderful acrobats with the light tackle that truly does them justice. McCristal's guidebook works such as<i> Freshwater Fighting Fish</i> and <i>Great Fishing With Lures</i> are in many respects as innovative and informative today as when they were written in the late 1960s. Certain information is, as one might expect given guidebooks over 40 years old, now outdated. But there are special insights that come from McCristal's own application of angling intelligence to an experience that was often the vanguard of its field: seeing sport fishing possibilities and applying techniques to what were still new species of sport fish <i>for the first time. </i>Such unique insights, in nuptial with lived experience, contain a special magic that shall always resonate for readers. Which brings me to the second aspect of Vic McCristal's greatness, which is that he is a great <i>Australian</i> writer.<br />
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McCristal's prose style contains that blend of British-English command and accuracy with the idiosyncratic, landscape-attuned tone, colour and movement of Australian-English. It is a language that is both educated and lodged in the uniqueness of McCristal's Australian experience of the country and its characters. It is a language one also finds in writers such as the early Thomas Keneally or Frank Hardy. This language mirrors the diversity of escarpment country, with its rough hewn peaks and drops, crag-grappling foliage and poetic flourishes of monsoonal forest and lucid, pandanus lined, fish-shimmering streams wending between. <i> </i>To cut to the chase, McCristal is not only a pleasure to read: his prose is a part of the history of our country's language and literature. It is, as literature, a kind of equivalent of the uniquely Australian rock sound produced during the early 1980s or the Australian Modernist art of the 1940s, a time before the homogeneity of mass, popular culture eroded idiosyncrasy on behalf of economic and marketing interests... a time before every populist cultural product was market tested prior to release. But unlike the puerile 'national culture' cultivated during the Howard years, McCristal's Australia really is <i>uniquely Australian</i>. For what makes this country unique is its landscape, its rivers and sea and the strange creatures that inhabit it. McCristal's love of the country, its landscapes and its fauna, lead him towards ecological positions that the political Greens would agree with. In The Rivers and the Sea he writes "I've been told that many conservationists are only trouble makers. It would be funny if it weren't so tragic - those I know are the least warlike of human beings. What kind of man would it be who could blandly suffer the earth's injury and not speak up?" The German philosopher Immanuel Kant defined the Enlightenment with the phrase <i>sapere aude</i>: have the courage to use one's <i>own</i> reason; dare to know. This is what McCristal does, basing his opinions on his own lived experience rather than jumping on another's boat. It is a lesson we all can benefit from.<br />
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Through his direct contact with the people who inhabited the wild places he cast his lures into, McCristal came to believe that colonisation had wrongfully affected the indigenous people of this country, and that, in general, those who had their culture still largely in tact were <i>more human</i> than the European Australians: "I can't convince myself that the efforts to convert the Aborigines to our own stilted format is better for them than their original tribal life. The process of accelerated change is being forced on people with a different and (to me at least) more pertinent philosophy. Their lives have always been links in a long, perpetual chain, while ours have been self-centred and erratic, often arrogant and devoid of comprehension of the truth of ourselves, at least as we relate to the ground beneath our feet." Saying such things in the late 1960s - and in books written for a white Australian, populist audience - took both courage and a strong fidelity to experience.<br />
Behind Vic McCristal's great Australian prose lies a self-hewn philosophy of nature: the best a human can achieve in life is to be intimately attuned to the natural world: "I seek to show that with clean rivers and a healthy ocean, man's spirit still has its wide horizon." That this position arose through hunting and fishing is not a chance event, but is rather what happens to anyone sufficiently devoted to such activities, which lodge the hunter or angler in the natural environment in a uniquely attentive and attuitive manner.<br />
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"When a man understands the two kinds of hunting, it becomes difficult to maintain enthusiasm for the artificial kind." By 'artificial kind', McCristal means hunting or fishing simply to kill rather than taking a creature's life for food. The kind of hunting shown in the infamous kangaroo scene of what is perhaps Australia's best film, Wake In Fright. When people, generally shocked, ask me why I release fish, I tell them it is because I have spent so much time stalking them and observing their behaviour that I appreciate fish too completely as uniquely living beings to regularly kill them. Fish have a right to live of their own accord, not just as an extension of the human appetite. Of course I do sometimes take a fish to eat - of late, each time I hook a queenfish I have hoped it was a mackerel, which I very much enjoy eating. This sentiment is something every keen sport fisherman understands, and we find its philosophy nowhere better espoused than in Vic McCristal's writing. A hunter or angler should only kill what they intend to eat, and should always bear in mind conservation of the species one chases. This gestalt switch in ecological attitude which takes place in those initially most committed to hunting and angling stands as a testament to the special orientation towards nature that is native to these activities. Perhaps we become more fully immersed in the kind of hunting and gathering that the long development of the human body has evolved in relation to. It is true that, in these activities, the senses intimately absorbed by the natural world, we become gladder, throwing free the stress of the modern and highly unnatural environments of work in which our badgered bodies etch out a living five days a week.<br />
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"(H)umility in our regard for the earth and the life systems on it is not misplaced."<br />
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In one of his books, McCristal tells readers the story of how he turned towards a life in pursuit of a happiness written in the natural world. He had heard rumour of a run of large bream along a local beach and, on the way back to work after a break, decided that tackling the rare event of a run of big sea bream was more important than returning to work. The beach and angling, thankfully for his readers, won out. As recompense and explanation, when McCristal turned up to work the following morning he presented a pair of 2 kilo bream to his boss. The boss promptly threw them back. McCristal then understood that his boss, following the rules, was really just ruled by fear and resentment. From that incident and momentary decision Australia's greatest fishing writer was born.<br />
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One of the most pertinent lessons we may learn from McCristal's adept writings on angling is that fisherman are not dunces. Now let me explain what I mean. Companies and media that are focused on making the most money from the greatest number of 'consumers' tend to make 'products' that have the widest reach, simplifying writing (copy) and marketing in such a manner that the target is assumed to be a mass idiot whom, massaged the right way, will cough up the appropriate profit or response. This economic interest has a lot to answer for, not only in terms of 'dumbing people down' by always catering to and never challenging prejudices and wrong beliefs or opinions; but for making rare the kind of journalistic writing, literary in both style and content, that we find in Vic McCristal's works. For McCristal educates as he guides readers, never assuming that his reader's are dullards. His language is alive with unique human feeling and insight, and it is a great testament to the special kind of intelligence the long periods of angling in nature brew in a fisherman that so many anglers will cite McCristal as their favourite fishing writer. It has been a revelation for me to scour Vic McCristal's books, and I thank the forum user who suggested I track them down. It has already improved my fishing.<br />
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<i>I have noticed across the years a trend to hang a crank tag on conservationists of every kind. Some deserve it, some don't. But you will observe that those who are exposed to an intimate knowledge of the sea, the rivers or the land itself, usually change their views rapidly. Men who once killed are now the primary fighters in defence: Dr Hans Hass, Jacques Cousteau, Jacques Picard, Ben Cropp, Ron Taylor, John Harding; all with one thing in common.</i><br />
<i>The Sea made them famous. They love it and they know it - and they're desperately concerned for it. They merely know their subject, as I know mine, closely enough to know when it is being hurt.</i><br />
<i>- Vic McCristal, Preface to The Rivers and the Sea.</i><br />
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-13367906445570181442013-03-24T22:40:00.003-07:002013-03-24T22:40:02.505-07:00Some Philosophical reflections on Fishing, Nature and Technology<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="text-indent: 48px;">What fish feel, </span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 48px;">birds feel, I don't know - </span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: 48px;">the year ending</span></div>
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- Basho<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQB3K0RGqIcH-Sia6dsvEgZpFcF81ZVuuIxmeuloleUkfCyjdG2IVEBHLegNxvvbyEhdB7cylH5TX-HRiJR7r1Pwq_dofVlxvUPqkos0cByO9r3cWe79iMTXV84I06NMaLvUArKq-wtCs/s1600/philophotos2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQB3K0RGqIcH-Sia6dsvEgZpFcF81ZVuuIxmeuloleUkfCyjdG2IVEBHLegNxvvbyEhdB7cylH5TX-HRiJR7r1Pwq_dofVlxvUPqkos0cByO9r3cWe79iMTXV84I06NMaLvUArKq-wtCs/s320/philophotos2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An ice-cold slab of mountain rainbow trout from a New Zealand stream after two days of trekking</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I still feel the first fish that struggled against my grip. The river was the Barwon, the gape of
its sandy mouth. I stood beside my
father, dangling stiff nylon lines and old fibreglass rods bridge-top into the
torrent below. This bridge was not
a suspension, yet when cars rolled by it rattled and shook. The rods belonged to my grandfather
who, by that time, was ravaged by Alzheimers, folded into a wheelchair, blowing
snot bubbles when he breathed. He
was an outdoors type who enjoyed camping.
When still in Finland, when the Soviets invaded, he was an army sniper,
killing many men and collecting their red stars. But he killed more redfin – European perch – in the lakes of
Finland, and continued chasing these fish in the lakes of central Victoria. A marine engineer, he would meticulously
take apart his fishing reels after each trip, greasing all the parts to make
them last. We never went angling
together, but to this day some of his old cane surf-rods are hanging from the
roof of my father’s shed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlFTy7FK32_B3N7fFG_iQ5hnKT9TPGsRHdWgssrPfPoJ_ZnMzYj9gXmfuE0z8k78Bp0i5elPRkuQPbCLJXt9mo_iG5SYLRzNqcA-0_7GI5yUuMASeR5FZafSMTxVUa8mSe0M-TTsRPXCCN/s1600/philophotos4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlFTy7FK32_B3N7fFG_iQ5hnKT9TPGsRHdWgssrPfPoJ_ZnMzYj9gXmfuE0z8k78Bp0i5elPRkuQPbCLJXt9mo_iG5SYLRzNqcA-0_7GI5yUuMASeR5FZafSMTxVUa8mSe0M-TTsRPXCCN/s320/philophotos4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kakadu saratoga</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
A fishing rod is much like a diviners stick, signalling to depths the
eyes can’t see, a thread strung tight unto another world somewhat stranger than
our ordinary. Imagination treads
this tightrope to the underworld: one reason why ‘the one that got away’
evermore resembles a plesiosaur as the factual memory of the event
recedes. Yet it is a rule that big
fish escape and small fish do not out-wrestle a line. On this day of my first caught fish I felt across my
fingertips the darting electricity of a creature that, after several violent
taps of the rod tip as it bit upon the bait, was hooked. A fishing hook is a cruel instrument
whose entire purpose is to rip into organic flesh and, once hooked, hold. Some people claim that a fish does not
experience much sensation. Yet
anyone who has struggled against a fish knows that fish do their best to resist
the line and hook that binds them to a rod and human hand. Despite the beauty of the locations
angling often calls a fisherman to, what makes angling exciting is the act of
and specific comportment towards fooling a fish, of fighting it into shore, of drawing
away from its liquid world a being that does not belong where the angler stands. The pleasure of catching a fish is
largely located in this primal cruelty, a bodily struggle between two beings,
however uneven this often seems.
Anglers call this struggle <i>the
fight</i>. For the first time I
felt this resistance on that bridge across the Barwon, a strange ichthyological
being direly struggling against me, fighting for its life against an
incomprehensible force. Hell for
fish lies not in the dark depths, but is upwards, in boats, on shore. A fish torn from water suffocates
slower than a human drowns, and for me there are few crueller scenes than a
waterless white bucket filled with the sporadic spasms and pouts of suffocating
fish, a scene that unfortunately occurs innumerably on piers and estuaries each
weekend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CBM6Yjmzvwgqpym6Mfaq6z5ch52y93ySak-eoCA52o7xaJ5khl4bf1eP6gp5v-LFv9uouFRRl7LNGmw1bXOY7co1J5T8qqTk4weDXwl-FDo5dno-u1vBd8ASujJMk5Z92FvGy3uK5LNV/s1600/DSCN6672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3CBM6Yjmzvwgqpym6Mfaq6z5ch52y93ySak-eoCA52o7xaJ5khl4bf1eP6gp5v-LFv9uouFRRl7LNGmw1bXOY7co1J5T8qqTk4weDXwl-FDo5dno-u1vBd8ASujJMk5Z92FvGy3uK5LNV/s320/DSCN6672.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A big brown trout from a New Zealand River</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
I no longer kill any fish, releasing all I land unless a fellow angler,
looking desperate, asks for a fish I catch, or I cannot revive one I have
caught. My respect for wild
predatory fish and the long hours I have spent stalking them, watching them,
somewhat lessens the pleasure their flesh now provides my tongue. But that first fish I caught, a young
Australian Salmon, had its throat promptly slit, was gutted and bled, and an
hour later its flesh was firming beneath a holiday-house grill. In Istanbul, atop the Galata Bridge,
rod fishermen catch similarly small mackerel that are swiftly gutted, splayed,
grilled on the spot and sold on crunchy white rolls, bones still threading
through the flesh. My grandfather
cherished the taste of redfin, a fish native to Europe, a pest now in
Australia, brought here by the colonisers, like so many feral species, to make
them feel less homesick for the Midlands of England. Similarly, the appellation <i>salmon</i>, thrust upon the Australian namesake fish, is another
colonial import. The Australian
salmon is not a salmonoid, but a completely unrelated species, a fast and
powerful predator that frequents rock-hewn white-water and long surf
beaches. Pound for pound it is one
of Southern Australia’s best fighting fish. Some years ago I was on a pier when a school of kilo-plus
fish surrounded the pylons.
Anglers slaughtered them, hauling in great numbers, tiling the wooden
planks with fish. When the school
dispersed one of the fishermen asked me, with 30 noble salmon shimmering and
suffocating around his wet feet, what type of fish it was and whether it was
edible. They are a mainstay of the
pet food industry I told him, generally not noted for the delectable quality of
their flesh. Two nights past, on
another pier, a group of budding men, drunk and loud, caught a young shark, 40
centimetres long. They were
hyenas, cackling, dangerous, swinging the shark around by its tail. From a corner of the pier a thick accent
emerged, <i>If you not eat the shark you put
it back to sea</i>. The hyenas
hesitated, then the speaker stepped forth, an elderly Maltese man who looked
like he had spent his life on piers atop the sea: <i>If you not eat the fish, you release him</i>. Maybe it was the moon behind him, or the way his voice,
supported by the ocean wind, grew larger as it approached, but the man holding
the shark quickly flung it back into the water where, despite the violent whack
of the surface, it dove into the deep, its life regained. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqRsfGExnrGxfmg-VetViWm1fsyFl_m1kSpYLccQR2zvThBGctgoRyElBGbUsDVIcMcvnLue3SdeW3QOWnVafM8lEItPGZLutkBjGf_uUr89olJ9JcHaBcudn4cqBE-YB353Tg-TMoveC/s1600/philophotos5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuqRsfGExnrGxfmg-VetViWm1fsyFl_m1kSpYLccQR2zvThBGctgoRyElBGbUsDVIcMcvnLue3SdeW3QOWnVafM8lEItPGZLutkBjGf_uUr89olJ9JcHaBcudn4cqBE-YB353Tg-TMoveC/s320/philophotos5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Darwin golden trevally</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The cruelty of hooking and fighting a wild fish is of a different order
to the cruelty that, reifying life into an object of utility, allows a fish to
slowly suffocate in a plastic bucket, or the remorseless industrial fishing
practices that are indiscriminately pillaging the sea so that seafood eaters
needn’t slice the living throats of the fish they eat and cat owners can buy
cheap tins of meat. At the
conclusion of Earnest Hemingway’s <i>The Old
Man and the Sea</i>, a bourgeois couple comment tritely upon the shark-ravaged
carcass of a proud billfish, as though it were these alienated gazes themselves
that had carved up the noble billfish, the latter a symbol of a less alienated
relation to the natural world.
They cannot see the epic struggle between the living fish and the old
fisherman, nor the pathos and respect the fisherman bears towards the deceased
billfish. They see an object, a
‘fish’, that is useless to them because sharks have eaten its flesh. At best it is a spectacle, a photo. The tragedy is lost on them. The anthropologist Marcel Mauss, in his
essay <i>The Gift</i>, describes how, in
‘archaic’ societies, one could not simply take from nature in the way that the
term ‘natural <i>resource</i>’, in its
ordinary usage, suggests. The
latter term orientates us towards ‘the natural’ as a resource wholly at the
beck and call of utility. The German
existentialist philosopher Martin Heidegger describes this orientation as <i>enframing</i>: enframing <i>sets-up</i> the natural world – it <i>presents</i> it by perspectivally
privileging a particular mode of revealing the natural world to us - as a mere
resource, a ‘standing-reserve’.
Heidegger argues that this mode of revealing the natural as a
standing-reserve, at hand and ready for human domination and exploitation, is a
revealing made possible by an outlook inherent in technology. Yet technology itself is not a bad
thing if one holds a creative or poetic relationship towards it and the way it
unveils an aspect of the natural, keeping in mind the danger inherent in its
outlook, the danger of reifying beings into mere number and use-value. For example, power produced through
fossil fuels discloses and bestows a very different relationship between humans
and the Earth than the relation set up by solar power. Similarly, the technology of an
industrial fishing vessel unveils the being of a fish in a manner vastly different
to that of the technologies of polarized lens sunglasses and the high-modulus
carbon fibre fly rod and reel of a fly-fisherman stalking a wild trout in an
alpine river. Returning to Mauss,
the ‘archaic’ societies he describes in <i>The
Gift</i> did not see the natural as a free resource, at-hand for mass
exploitation and domination, but as belonging to a cosmology wherein matters of
economy, environment, culture and religion were inseparable. What was taken from nature was in fact
a gift that had to be returned - often via forms of sacrifice – in order for
the relation between humans and nature to be kept in balance and thus able to
sustainably reproduce itself from year to year. One respected what was killed or taken from nature as a
being belonging to this total world, as something still mysterious,
participating in forces beyond human understanding. Objects and beings are no less ontologically mysterious
today. Yet rarely do we confront the mystery of how a thing <i>is</i>. Our secular world smoothly effaces the irreconcilable
difference inherent in things. For
this difference – in part pointed towards by the difference between the
signifier and the signified, the impossibility of congruence between the sign
and the thing – discloses both the arbitrariness of signification and the
precariousness of all we think we know.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5yYPuLZPNt4gk0gTBMD_MQ8BFZb-pmlT7rLbR-5iDsAiNtXqY0RpaJnVEfN374pEBYtyJF1KQBb2-hBsg4ROOO9IYj_1eRPFgEC1_PmAxmyndXXGvaQ9eOM2U3ZlEmtq8BTDSA-pkWmB/s1600/philophotos3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR5yYPuLZPNt4gk0gTBMD_MQ8BFZb-pmlT7rLbR-5iDsAiNtXqY0RpaJnVEfN374pEBYtyJF1KQBb2-hBsg4ROOO9IYj_1eRPFgEC1_PmAxmyndXXGvaQ9eOM2U3ZlEmtq8BTDSA-pkWmB/s320/philophotos3.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A New Zealand lake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
Sometimes when I am angling it occurs to me that I am standing in a
mystery. I muster such an intense
concentration upon the act of casting and retrieving a lure, upon the
technologies of rod, reel, braided line and the way these sensitive instruments
disclose to me a certain terrain mostly hidden beneath a glowing, shifting
surface, that I am able to retrieve my senses from the secular familiarity
offered by signs and re-cognizable forms and see that which surrounds me as I
have never seen it before. For
indeed I have never seen it before, the ceaseless becoming of the glimmering
water, the reflections that grow and fade with the movement of the wind, clouds
and sun, and the quivering of leaves on overhanging trees, their branches
lazily swaying. A quiet rapture
sets in, focused on a rod, a lure and a potential fish. Generally I wear polarized sunglasses,
which disperse the most silver reflections, allowing me to see partly into the
deep until the water swallows up and holds to itself all reflected light. Sometimes I can see a fish following my
lure, an alien being in a foreign world, darting to and thro curiously,
mouthing the lure and then, my heart gasping, collapsing into itself, next unfolding
breathlessly, the fish attacks and is hooked. Though generally one cannot see the fish, and it is the
violent tweaks of the rod tip, at other times a sly and gentle twitch, that
tell me there is a fish down there preying upon my lure. This concentration is not unlike
meditation where one is wholly focussed upon ones breath. But with angling one is focussed upon a
technology and the world it reveals, in an environment that is often beautiful,
and I’ve spent thousands of dollars purchasing the lightest line, rods and
reels such that these technologies disappear into an accentuation of my own
senses, my nerves tenderly leaving my flesh and streaking into the water,
through the sky’s reflection, towards a fish. When I have hooked a fish <i>the fight</i> takes place as though inside me, as though I were the
lake or river and each flick of the fish’s dorsal or tail fin sends shockwaves
through my delicate banks. I sense
the fear of the fish as it struggles, yet also its pride and predatory
fierceness, its will to resist. I
use light line to give the fish a real chance of escape. I do not ignore the cruelty, but
experience it as tragedy, the affective excitement dividing the seconds into
years as, one moment, the fish takes a powerful run and seems destined to
escape; the next, I’ve gained some ground and am reaching for my net, then the
fish again makes a run and in a dash of light, with a fling of water streams
away from sight. I shake with
excitement, all the while respecting my opponent. When the fish is landed its living beauty outshines that of
any inanimate diamond, otherworldly, wild, surging with the very mystery of a
being that is, of its own accord, alive. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I let the fish
go.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR7gOqjnmcg6-4jrlU7DnSP4QPE6TuxxIy2xHOWRCWFiwiQP4-G-wgMV-7X2c6vEI4L7ocdG5TCfID89AHqa39acFXdPBtUoc4w7GKK0pOxOXY0KyX5Z1jFBicz6lhRVK-PmbDcwyRe4Sy/s1600/philophotos6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR7gOqjnmcg6-4jrlU7DnSP4QPE6TuxxIy2xHOWRCWFiwiQP4-G-wgMV-7X2c6vEI4L7ocdG5TCfID89AHqa39acFXdPBtUoc4w7GKK0pOxOXY0KyX5Z1jFBicz6lhRVK-PmbDcwyRe4Sy/s320/philophotos6.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A surface lure gobbling Siamese barb, Northern Thailand</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="text-indent: 36pt;">For what we may call human pre-history, that long brewing and over-fermenting
of the modern form whose records are kept in the bones and tools of those
ancestors unearthed by paleoanthropologists, humans hunted all the animals they
ate. Although the thoughts and
ideologies of humans are the fickle matter of changing histories, the flesh
that houses these phenomena takes much longer to change. In </span><i style="text-indent: 36pt;">The
Genealogy of Morality</i><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">, Friedrich Nietzsche traces the origin of bad
conscience to an anthropological leap in pre-history, from the long period of
hunting/gathering to settled, agrarian social groups. The human organism, its instincts shaped by the </span><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: 36pt;">hunting/gathering</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> style
of life, was used to expending its energy in hunting and pursuing prey, taking
long walks gathering, living from day to day. Such hunter/gatherers, when moved to agrarian conditions,
would be akin to placing a free and wild dingo into a suburban backyard. The instincts useful to hunting and
gathering of course, taking countless millennia to perfect, could not adjust
quickly to agrarian lifestyles, even though consciousness could. Hence Nietzsche contends that these
unexpended instincts turned inwards, hunting the very human organism itself,
creating a conscience to hunt consciousness. Indeed, one need merely consider the degree of cruelty upon
oneself and others that the moral religious conscience takes pleasure in. There are forms of cruelty that affirm
life and forms that degrade life: cruelty has a way of orientating us towards
other beings, opening their being to us in a unique manner. For cruelty is a force subjugating
another force, taking pleasure in this subjugation, and the more equal these
forces are the more fully one force must disclose and give recognition to that
which struggles against it. Hence
the Hegelian master cannot recognise himself in the slave whom he subjugates,
the slave giving no resistance. To
give ‘recognition to’ is to acknowledge the independence of another. Hence those forces which most resist
each other are most independent in their beings, yet this independence can only
be recognised by the intimate contiguity of struggle with the most equal. Cruelty gives the least recognition of
the independence of a thing’s being when the relation between a subjugating and
subjugated force are most utterly unequal. For an industrial fishing vessel, each fish is merely a
market value, a commodity, the independent being of a fish hardly recognised as
anything other than an economic resource.
The stakes between boat, long line and fish are hideously unequal, and
the ‘consumer’, eating dinner after another long day sitting in the office, is
completely alienated from the living being of the fish and its death. On the other hand the catch and release
angler, using finesse fishing tackle, has an intimate relation with his or her
quarry, just as humans have for most of history when hunting. The technology the angler uses only
makes the fight between the angler and fish more dramatic, equal and intimately
experienced. Using lures means the
fish is caught whilst itself intent on consuming a smaller prey. It comes as no surprise that much
Japanese fishing tackle, the best designed in the world, carries connotations
of the Samurai tradition. Indeed,
one series of reels, designed by Yuki Ito, the founder of the aesthetically
orientated tackle brand Megabass, has etched into their spools the characters </span><i style="text-indent: 36pt;">Ki Shu Bu Shin</i><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">, which translate as </span><i style="text-indent: 36pt;">Hand of the Devil, Buddha heart</i><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">:
although this fishing tackle gives you the power of a devil’s hand, do not
forget your compassion. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.megabass.co.jp/products/images/kirisame_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.megabass.co.jp/products/images/kirisame_main.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Megabass Kirisame... JDM angling aesthetic ecstasy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
The catch and release angler, without a bad conscience,
releases his or her fish as a sign of respect, an acknowledgment of the fish’s
life, its fight and its capacity to grow and breed. If a sacrifice takes place, it is the amount of money and
time expended upon an activity that, if one refuses to kill and keep fish,
provides no economic return, no <i>causa
finalis</i> subordinated to utility.
In this way the sports angler is not dissimilar to an artist, creating
aesthetic situations in beautiful locations where one can experience anew ones
relation to the world, nature and to the being of things that inhabit such
environments. But where they
differ is that, whilst the experience of the creative artist generally leads to
the memento-mori of a finished art object, the experience of the angler and his
prized quarry is, apart from a photo, mutable: it returns back into the mystery
of the Being that gave it birth just as the glimmer of a released fish returns
to a river’s depth, as lost to time and the clarity of memory as a wisp of
cloud reflected atop a babbling stream. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjz1B0w9C_MbzYGkeU-vliXj5XHzWShFvkJ4c42Uo-km5tLXahdOyyKhAjqMvGnvOOImqou9OoFdwIyV1Dc5MzANkfLYNPQua5WBxLVa0B0QGdd13aqTES6jIBTfPUBugD7cUzyc22E2S/s1600/DSCN6823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjz1B0w9C_MbzYGkeU-vliXj5XHzWShFvkJ4c42Uo-km5tLXahdOyyKhAjqMvGnvOOImqou9OoFdwIyV1Dc5MzANkfLYNPQua5WBxLVa0B0QGdd13aqTES6jIBTfPUBugD7cUzyc22E2S/s320/DSCN6823.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another New Zealand river...<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR5Z_DKvuxLsUREtMtOgXY9rj-C7E61cFEBJqJX5rqYuCYgpoit9fKHj-nW6d7Gu2tNa-IcZR02EO0qkFGIYE2Xbbsi7LRCS749W3HPJqgyML3DWpmVIxJk3Bmj2oWRv3mKAyn3xvJ1qRk/s1600/philophotos1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR5Z_DKvuxLsUREtMtOgXY9rj-C7E61cFEBJqJX5rqYuCYgpoit9fKHj-nW6d7Gu2tNa-IcZR02EO0qkFGIYE2Xbbsi7LRCS749W3HPJqgyML3DWpmVIxJk3Bmj2oWRv3mKAyn3xvJ1qRk/s320/philophotos1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A lovely little brown trout from an Otways stream, Victoria</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
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<!--EndFragment-->The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-87032798970085915592013-03-22T07:36:00.000-07:002013-03-22T07:36:10.254-07:00Another Drive Through Kakadu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSd36U6jb9SEM2loQllkUuxZQHaZD3SBYfAe20gFiON1el_zsLgPSqLjSA4lm6erhE0aVO4cI8h2Ew3RueeSC2XgnoQzCuJG3zRE4aJtCS41XIVj9XD3b47IMEVUQlM_sEHRLKeFgIutC/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSd36U6jb9SEM2loQllkUuxZQHaZD3SBYfAe20gFiON1el_zsLgPSqLjSA4lm6erhE0aVO4cI8h2Ew3RueeSC2XgnoQzCuJG3zRE4aJtCS41XIVj9XD3b47IMEVUQlM_sEHRLKeFgIutC/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1314.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I must admit I am a little dumbfounded as to where all the barra must presently be. This time last year I was averaging between 20 and 30 barramundi a day in the streams of Kakadu. But last year it rained. Last year there was a wet season and a run-off. This year... disappointment. And already the spear grass is seeding into its tri-coloured displays. The dragonflies that mark the dry's beginning are emerging. Perhaps - hopefully, indeed - all this is wrong, and something resembling a wet, even just a few days in a row of heavy rain, will arrive. But as it stands... one must content oneself with the plentiful tarpon. As to the latter, if I was living anywhere else, especially in the Southern states, and I could go fishing and catch 20 leaping, tough scrapping game fish in beautiful streams on trout gear, I would call it a mighty good session. Maybe we come to expect too much in the NT. Or, more likely, big barra are a fantastic fish to catch... when they are about!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkPBKKaNQxVpIduuWMcbZdR0XhzhQatjVY9dYNw_7UpqZlK-CA99XwKC8obSLkX-2aUX4qyppI4o-m-LQm_zPb6T-9mYet0DH9_k6q93nDdDw1wu19ivOQnhDJUn8CVHUXba0BoIXc_IE/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkPBKKaNQxVpIduuWMcbZdR0XhzhQatjVY9dYNw_7UpqZlK-CA99XwKC8obSLkX-2aUX4qyppI4o-m-LQm_zPb6T-9mYet0DH9_k6q93nDdDw1wu19ivOQnhDJUn8CVHUXba0BoIXc_IE/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1312.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Topwater tarpon on their beloved Smith Towadi.</td></tr>
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My first stop on my drive to the '3 Bridges' and back was Scott's Creek. There had been a few spots of rain in the preceeding days, and after losing 4 barra there a week ago - 3 quickly to thickly matted reed beds; and a good fish that sliced my leader with its sharp gill plate - I had high hopes. But the water wasn't quite so high. In fact, it had dropped by at least 20cm. Where I hoped to cast for barra with some heavier tackle, there now lurked only fully exposed, thick beds of reeds. But below the crossing were tarpon.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crossing at Scott's creek, with not as much water as should be there...</td></tr>
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So I started out with my 2 - 4lb Daiko Elzarle matched to a 1000 FB Stella and 4lb Untika trout braid. Quickly i found this small trout stream 'noodle' was outmatched by the power of the larger tarpon I hooked in the fast water. I could land the fish with a fight that did them all the justice they deserve... but what if I hooked a barra?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHK99Xzp2UvTeZPYVvqVk8C1iRUzaeEKiCoZSMATJP8Vcaaic4nvlR1iAkMW1I7n7buICtRuxN6wAoBnDTq7ZIWISxv6aGigBZLWtJ-Mmry0xAI0ybTCV8FQiXOxORWx5qUHcdtieP_DW0/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHK99Xzp2UvTeZPYVvqVk8C1iRUzaeEKiCoZSMATJP8Vcaaic4nvlR1iAkMW1I7n7buICtRuxN6wAoBnDTq7ZIWISxv6aGigBZLWtJ-Mmry0xAI0ybTCV8FQiXOxORWx5qUHcdtieP_DW0/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1310.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A larger tarpon on a topwater.</td></tr>
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So I upgraded to an Evergreen Kaleido Designo with 5lb Varivas Ganoa Absolute Fluorocarbon straight through. This is the best fluorocarbon line I have used - no wind knots and great abrasion resistance in a light line. It will be interesting to see how it holds up to a barra mouth.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WjRbLc21rPOAvazfS0hxanWTPM1aWFQBgPt8T_lN8DbrDfZM5nKaSfUCHLsExc9D-PYAd8rEXi1hSkXR_TO21O8V_WH_iagWD3w4zPPMXkFJe_pnRrDhYPnXE58dv1Qsrpt18N8keN0l/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WjRbLc21rPOAvazfS0hxanWTPM1aWFQBgPt8T_lN8DbrDfZM5nKaSfUCHLsExc9D-PYAd8rEXi1hSkXR_TO21O8V_WH_iagWD3w4zPPMXkFJe_pnRrDhYPnXE58dv1Qsrpt18N8keN0l/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1318.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
The tarpon were not striking at the Smith Towadi walk the dog lure as readily as during the previous week, so I tried to match the hatch - some kind of tiny fry - with this offering...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapt-4U_aLdWGGoCL4hI3IX4JUkL_p2tWSrXP83uw_eBG747DzGy-_9P7vbh0b3BEaW8ACbbh_l_4hqopXAvlIAT_P6oHj0iWZdgQmqyEQ_sM1rLiBnm9PryBs0YmpOFuHIVmN5IzS51RQ/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiapt-4U_aLdWGGoCL4hI3IX4JUkL_p2tWSrXP83uw_eBG747DzGy-_9P7vbh0b3BEaW8ACbbh_l_4hqopXAvlIAT_P6oHj0iWZdgQmqyEQ_sM1rLiBnm9PryBs0YmpOFuHIVmN5IzS51RQ/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1315.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Which the tarpon readily struck at, yet hooking them on the small jighead was a problem. Hence it was to a twister grub I turned next, on a larger hook. Which gave a better hook up rate. I would cast slightly upstream, hold the rod tip high and let the lure sink and drift down until it hit a small eddy where it would wiggle its tail in the current before being hit upon. Kind of like a lady in a Darwin bar.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhRdqbjoBFlX81DhxXaIBfkoWxDX3sQlg6FjgwAsLUJeuzWYfGY1gIvRb-V7coSl6ZbAmeMll1_zzdiDB5LWMfSeCUJdoD5BqTo4sZCct2OXlFExdq_pemXi3-T1MH-V8Kg8WpfBu9NLx/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglhRdqbjoBFlX81DhxXaIBfkoWxDX3sQlg6FjgwAsLUJeuzWYfGY1gIvRb-V7coSl6ZbAmeMll1_zzdiDB5LWMfSeCUJdoD5BqTo4sZCct2OXlFExdq_pemXi3-T1MH-V8Kg8WpfBu9NLx/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1305.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Gary Yamamoto grub...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpewEKTnj4jOr3F4r7Hgwx9uVnImzUssrYmk1hNTGAan2sKMNmTbn3xWQ66PiZg9bp7snp7cAWW3KslzwEdZQYyxzLZa3o-07Oh1JciQet18oT8YRYJ-B4lwUljklQj3JQl_y5XdrutI0v/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpewEKTnj4jOr3F4r7Hgwx9uVnImzUssrYmk1hNTGAan2sKMNmTbn3xWQ66PiZg9bp7snp7cAWW3KslzwEdZQYyxzLZa3o-07Oh1JciQet18oT8YRYJ-B4lwUljklQj3JQl_y5XdrutI0v/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1306.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Megabass grub...</td></tr>
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Then back to the Smith Towadi once more: surface fishing for tarpon is just more exciting, even if the hook up ratio is less. And I have found that larger specimens take surface lures.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3RZfMmG80SclnSQkGlS3xqxmpA1SMsIE4n7hjQ2OuQwmMJTXb_bhmmzV8buJ81Pd3FkY1G1iL0574EsfqgLv9F5qraYRZg0j868JWqlEqNNNL8l-c3WwCHbKiDQzdt71pIcL3gDCFp_O/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS3RZfMmG80SclnSQkGlS3xqxmpA1SMsIE4n7hjQ2OuQwmMJTXb_bhmmzV8buJ81Pd3FkY1G1iL0574EsfqgLv9F5qraYRZg0j868JWqlEqNNNL8l-c3WwCHbKiDQzdt71pIcL3gDCFp_O/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1311.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The little Smith Towadi claims another victim.</td></tr>
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After an hour of catching tarpon every several casts, it was towards the streams of Kakadu I drove. First stop was the East branch of the Wildman, which was flowing fast and clear. Second cast and I was attached to a solid saratoga... which I played to the bank, and then lost as I left in in the margins as I unfurled the brag-mat and got my camera ready. There goes saratoga number one.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5941NHyY5FvmdWjZN87C9BDanS1cLrdGrIHSL-2SGzLqCKEhzLnr7sUcDJyb-76yBq7Luz_EnKbWeTaA4HLlUjfgpPHCfB9WYP-4k89wLmrJvFO5AvzkwYqRBhPCEPsZ3rThrap3hIsWi/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5941NHyY5FvmdWjZN87C9BDanS1cLrdGrIHSL-2SGzLqCKEhzLnr7sUcDJyb-76yBq7Luz_EnKbWeTaA4HLlUjfgpPHCfB9WYP-4k89wLmrJvFO5AvzkwYqRBhPCEPsZ3rThrap3hIsWi/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1324.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
A short walk upstream and another 60cm saratoga was spotted. I cast the little Duo popper perfectly, and again was attached... then again stupidly lost the fish before I could get a photo. This was, unfortunately, becoming a bad habit. A change to a heavier outfit and a weedless stickbait, and I was once more hooked to something powerful in the current. A valiant... catfish. Boy these fish can pull, even if they cannot pull much affection from an angler hungry for barramundi and saratoga.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTbpMSy4P_L8N89BWnY03cFbDObdhEARPWy1QlgRvCTsYv4UzG4-0eKYz7I1NPYSmNBMdijeeELGecGLLxzVa_Md90uyv1kQ2SVlNa3V-w4TPfKBubOAPBMgfO3GrrslIeGTraXos04YP/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHTbpMSy4P_L8N89BWnY03cFbDObdhEARPWy1QlgRvCTsYv4UzG4-0eKYz7I1NPYSmNBMdijeeELGecGLLxzVa_Md90uyv1kQ2SVlNa3V-w4TPfKBubOAPBMgfO3GrrslIeGTraXos04YP/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1321.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oooo... that feels like a good fish... o god... catfish!</td></tr>
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Some mosquitoes soon after drove me off to the next stream, where I found more tarpon and a beautiful spangled grunter that sure knew how to grunt. I'm surprised the fellow didn't attract some pigs with all the noise he made.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ51kpMHhucFheSyu52QUaXUkClEsuw49SiukT_X_zyRaOPzrHrsLNUgQTLIPqXY6bNKXQUBMz8-V1SQ_oMPFi7j2PKJK9Izr0CzAoOW9LoU4QYu5B_l2wmQmnMZOOsdb4XfjOUCZ0ZdL/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ51kpMHhucFheSyu52QUaXUkClEsuw49SiukT_X_zyRaOPzrHrsLNUgQTLIPqXY6bNKXQUBMz8-V1SQ_oMPFi7j2PKJK9Izr0CzAoOW9LoU4QYu5B_l2wmQmnMZOOsdb4XfjOUCZ0ZdL/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1327.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spangler Grunter on a DUO popper. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaSldKBQy_3Q94FJ2BOCfrsy7kXKQeKjPljH-P1Rv7bPXldExCQDaa4UtraQMad4gSn25101C29-hYtm3W_PUbxaw9VsNi9REtBpyWbCcbsh8lFeqmtNm9HaGg8bvuwoaM4ypelZdV_En/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaSldKBQy_3Q94FJ2BOCfrsy7kXKQeKjPljH-P1Rv7bPXldExCQDaa4UtraQMad4gSn25101C29-hYtm3W_PUbxaw9VsNi9REtBpyWbCcbsh8lFeqmtNm9HaGg8bvuwoaM4ypelZdV_En/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1325.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pretty fish, and great fun on the right tackle in meter across top-end streams.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfoR-Ahn4QMAafy9X-hjnFUaEPhRusWrCutojLiAbfNZ1p7vzEuLAVSkL3gqtHIwN_qBTOJ4Bfd4OAfvwJOQ5DteWwHXmVwzwN5v8A3pzdrQ2fmwtavl36smlm9wSvLjTPIl99RuvvGyd/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfoR-Ahn4QMAafy9X-hjnFUaEPhRusWrCutojLiAbfNZ1p7vzEuLAVSkL3gqtHIwN_qBTOJ4Bfd4OAfvwJOQ5DteWwHXmVwzwN5v8A3pzdrQ2fmwtavl36smlm9wSvLjTPIl99RuvvGyd/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1323.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That wouldn't be another... Tarpon?</td></tr>
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Next stop was Magela Creek...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX304xfosqbQo-v1CbcLiAqLwkCSu_iMXu3nhQr3C329h8WtLWLU_bxIO8fVboD7OKff5ZEqusvOYuMtEQr4PSJZWY49Db2jvqusmQl3VZNpOPHGSCBsuC4xVjlUAVco0jzlkLFffiyIYo/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX304xfosqbQo-v1CbcLiAqLwkCSu_iMXu3nhQr3C329h8WtLWLU_bxIO8fVboD7OKff5ZEqusvOYuMtEQr4PSJZWY49Db2jvqusmQl3VZNpOPHGSCBsuC4xVjlUAVco0jzlkLFffiyIYo/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1301.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I landed a single, very golden barra of around 50cm on a Megabass X-Layer... but the camera was in the car. With camera back in hip pocket, I just could not hook-up. Interestingly, after also fishing Magela on the way home the following day, I discovered two important points. Firstly, the fish were being spooked by some of the larger lures other anglers were hurling about. They - by which I mean a school of tarpon and a few small barra - had moved upstream from where the most casts were meeting the water, sheltering between a few weed beds. They had become very flighty at the nearest splash. I noticed a similar phenomenon last year, when barra in Nourlangie Creek II were literally bolting away from white (drop-bear) Squidgy fish. Secondly, almost all the hits I had were on finesse tackle with a lighter leader (8lb Varivas Trout Fluorocarbon). I was fishing two outfits interchangeably - the heavier had 25lb Sunline Rockfish fluorocarbon leader - and the difference was very noticeable. Fish preferred the superior presentation offered by a lighter outfit. Now if these were bream in the Yarra River, such an approach goes without saying. But even in the NT certain places can see a lot of angling pressure and fish quickly wise up. As more people move to Darwin and popular angling locations meet with increased pressure, the older barra gear and big bibbed lures may not quite make the mark they once had on wild fish populations that rarely saw lures. This is certainly unfortunate, but it also necessitates a turn to a creative diversity of tactics if one wants to keep catching fish as in years past.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtL0j4sLaPay1WYizw69bQq7dkeC0XFUT6Ma_0ON5egGC5g0pqL419_qJhPzcgsL7OgN4DDzPUjRCjldlsJ01htmBglyrzxX62oMKyaCwItXOfXrZI-7XdyZJE0tsORJLFAgprM7RPnrei/s1600/P1060564.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtL0j4sLaPay1WYizw69bQq7dkeC0XFUT6Ma_0ON5egGC5g0pqL419_qJhPzcgsL7OgN4DDzPUjRCjldlsJ01htmBglyrzxX62oMKyaCwItXOfXrZI-7XdyZJE0tsORJLFAgprM7RPnrei/s320/P1060564.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What happens when there is a run-off...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nDy890ieWNq7CSpLVDrW38Lpq0tAr_pFl-wphZFqvCbCOYh5aIQLJ5YY3HCrcjCmeH3A4a_EBKxKEgdcNxxU31v69EjuGkQ3hzLmMT6JhXd4_owfutLgkHCmRPF6vxsbkppa_kG3CpEH/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4nDy890ieWNq7CSpLVDrW38Lpq0tAr_pFl-wphZFqvCbCOYh5aIQLJ5YY3HCrcjCmeH3A4a_EBKxKEgdcNxxU31v69EjuGkQ3hzLmMT6JhXd4_owfutLgkHCmRPF6vxsbkppa_kG3CpEH/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1303.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An insulting Southerner's finesse barra outfit!</td></tr>
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By now the sun was setting, and a day of fishing in and around Kakadu had only produced a single hooked and landed barra during a time when the barra blockbuster run-off should be reaching its apex. </div>
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I wonder what this Magela Creek resident thinks of the lack of rain?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVepMT-0z0SgcnAe7_yrpiaNNsrvnQBdVLRU5BXoRcZUH0tNypuM5UoUAkUttydRfx0eugFUs58Uu3vi0rPiI_ApBOLPBU1nPEk0xyPIUTRgNWN7vRBoHV-ShxS6o00Lu4Y4c4I2L07eb-/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVepMT-0z0SgcnAe7_yrpiaNNsrvnQBdVLRU5BXoRcZUH0tNypuM5UoUAkUttydRfx0eugFUs58Uu3vi0rPiI_ApBOLPBU1nPEk0xyPIUTRgNWN7vRBoHV-ShxS6o00Lu4Y4c4I2L07eb-/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1328.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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After setting up camp, I headed for a nightfish at the 3 Bridges: Nourlangie creek. I had a few hits on a Megabass Speed Slider using a fast walk the dog action, but no hook-ups except a several second tug-o-war with what I thought was a small freshwater crocodile that had on several casts chased my lure.</div>
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When I checked the area the next morning, I discovered that the small freshie had claws the size of my hands, and had left large belly marks and what looked light egg-diggings in the sand... I was quickly out of there, not wanting angry-protective-mother saltie snapping at my tackle... It was back to Magela Creek, where I hooked one more small barra, watched other anglers scare the crap out of the tarpon, and continued to wonder at the absence of a wet season and the lack of a run-off. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9YihIXHJjl86yOT7NA4mGtXKHjNCkXasqnRPjmrvg41dJPg6E70-Ci-pbkqQ1eJy3gnlIXoytCXa3x6H6Celf5l29bPWa_pqJniFwsewBKm2ohU9qH96QS3gRPGryPrqvwuB-r8VT46G/s1600/Tue+Mar+21+1329.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9YihIXHJjl86yOT7NA4mGtXKHjNCkXasqnRPjmrvg41dJPg6E70-Ci-pbkqQ1eJy3gnlIXoytCXa3x6H6Celf5l29bPWa_pqJniFwsewBKm2ohU9qH96QS3gRPGryPrqvwuB-r8VT46G/s320/Tue+Mar+21+1329.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Two days and a night fishing in Kakadu, and all I can state is where the hell are all the NT's barramundi? Perhaps I should start heading West instead of East and explore the Daly River region's land-based offerings.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">30 cm of water over the Magela Creek crossing, and falling. Wet Season anyone?</td></tr>
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-32846497394709769512013-03-14T06:54:00.004-07:002013-03-14T07:01:43.457-07:00Darwin and the Milkfish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJG88xz6hrbPOruvUKLr36N4QddWM1MxkbKjEKckHTo8988Y5YumW3tsua8PSN8lAcQO2FFvChDCuD6ScQ4wyEiDf1mVn06qPCOcro97laBTD5jmiVAenwbuUAAZ4nSkKveJHq-go4njfm/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJG88xz6hrbPOruvUKLr36N4QddWM1MxkbKjEKckHTo8988Y5YumW3tsua8PSN8lAcQO2FFvChDCuD6ScQ4wyEiDf1mVn06qPCOcro97laBTD5jmiVAenwbuUAAZ4nSkKveJHq-go4njfm/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera08.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I had two milkfish sessions after work last week. Not wanting to peeve anyone off by giving away co-ordinates of a certain not so secret 'secret spot', milkfish are verging on being a plentiful sport-angling target in Darwin Harbour, and could perhaps pull all except larger pelagics like tuna backwards in a power tug-o-war. Pound for pound they put any barra to shame.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KzDCpNPXv9tP1QdvYSMZWjRDuUrHU7-4e-ebhjT9yWdfINeM9-C8IoekdIPaOdblN7SQjhOngCGZOuHy_Nu8WYbdpQfoTzoLKOnMFWC7w2OmMieAo0WnZmEmp9lAgcGi_Wm2y2kfLcfb/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KzDCpNPXv9tP1QdvYSMZWjRDuUrHU7-4e-ebhjT9yWdfINeM9-C8IoekdIPaOdblN7SQjhOngCGZOuHy_Nu8WYbdpQfoTzoLKOnMFWC7w2OmMieAo0WnZmEmp9lAgcGi_Wm2y2kfLcfb/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera09.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Milkie puts a bend in a 6 - 12 lb Loomis NRX </td></tr>
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I have had big milkfish strip towards 100 yards of line off a spool in around 10 seconds, then begin leaping several feet out of the water. Like bonefish, milkfish use speed as their main weapon of defence against larger predators. Unlike bonefish, who are at times opportunistic feeders on shallow flats and will hence take a baitfish imitation, milkfish are almost completely vegetarian, preferring algae to tasty flesh. I had one chase a very small paddletailed plastic last year, but using a 1000 sized reel with only 90 meters of line on the shallow spool, i decided to keep the $60 worth of braid on the reel, so jerked the lure away as quickly as I could.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdvDN97NSYR4Dj3KyollnuIN7ssGuRQi-XGpWYO_olA7AoZdGQepJVQQUOX_b4HBXFLmn3HUEjKa59SJoNEOecrUYU1F6YTrVjLUBRcgRGSEdgDKE5tjBuQyV5NYDljLZSxyqu75T2God/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdvDN97NSYR4Dj3KyollnuIN7ssGuRQi-XGpWYO_olA7AoZdGQepJVQQUOX_b4HBXFLmn3HUEjKa59SJoNEOecrUYU1F6YTrVjLUBRcgRGSEdgDKE5tjBuQyV5NYDljLZSxyqu75T2God/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying to get a fish back into the water ASAP... Action!</td></tr>
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Last week I hooked four milkfish - three on the first afternoon, one on the second evening. I am having a quite successful streak with losing big fish of late in circumstances where it is not quite my fault... or so I must tell myself! The first three fish were all lost to leader abrasion thanks to oyster encrusted rocks. I was using a suppler 25lb fluoro leader (Varivas Seabass) than my usual choice, hoping this suppleness would lead to better presentation of my milkfish bait of choice: one dollar loaves of white sandwich bread from Coles. The presentation was better, hence the three hook-ups, but at this particular spot the milkfish tend to run between 50 - 100 yards and then arc into the shore, after which one must fight them back across rocks. If you put the rod low at an angle, pressuring them towards the shoreline they are speeding towards, they will often swim in the opposite direction into deeper, clear water... but the ploy failed me on this occasion, and each time a fish arced towards the shore, my line fell limp. Nonetheless, I landed 2 extra large diamond scaled mullet, my lovely mistress landed another hefty slab of mullet, and a friend landed a very amply sized giant herring that danced across the surface all the way to shore.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpbmIUs-o5d8glz0WufKqTbkzYz2HBjr-8h5P-oNk3tAxJWQlc8HeXFIg2WkyCnIwZI15yLiAOn7vMLvwFeZ2_DLcKS34gEWWCRaHDoMcLvnOJoI3I3_qMRaUDFppEkR4mcKbXKL_Dxu9/s1600/milkkkkfish+related7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpbmIUs-o5d8glz0WufKqTbkzYz2HBjr-8h5P-oNk3tAxJWQlc8HeXFIg2WkyCnIwZI15yLiAOn7vMLvwFeZ2_DLcKS34gEWWCRaHDoMcLvnOJoI3I3_qMRaUDFppEkR4mcKbXKL_Dxu9/s320/milkkkkfish+related7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big Diamond Scaled Mullet are hefty fish, and can even get airborne on the end of a line!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicq52BO5RI3RDlvNGVHff8LADpGIJx8jZKYf8knm-DmAIwKiG8TB_uvjfkwkjHlYH7UeI8bY4_XG71vcmz4upqCrYJMbDak9dzobtQnBoJcdhUDKQIGKgYP7cgdEayLd9nrqef-b_KpVwv/s1600/P1070384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicq52BO5RI3RDlvNGVHff8LADpGIJx8jZKYf8knm-DmAIwKiG8TB_uvjfkwkjHlYH7UeI8bY4_XG71vcmz4upqCrYJMbDak9dzobtQnBoJcdhUDKQIGKgYP7cgdEayLd9nrqef-b_KpVwv/s320/P1070384.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy dancer: a Giant Herring on a Bomber and a happy angler's grin.</td></tr>
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The following day I switched to 30lb leader, and although fewer fish showed up, I hooked a fish that appeared well over a meter. After it took two long runs, I thought I had the fish fought, slowly zagging left to right only 10 meters from shore. I had loosened the drag of my 2500 Stella, loaded with 16lb Varivas Seabass PE, and was holding my rod tip high, just in case the fish decided on one last sprint from so close to shore. Then the line fell limp.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50QUPyNiIeP9PGqDruprJly0zkrcgbRr3FRQXi8ERpamUQhP_TNlXMkl1nEpIiiuTDEuT7kI02wtvYnwN2wh2rvVpAqgsQi_CWX6zd59mMtyGCyWytNSZ79EvKoyoMG3MBOYVVtqHQzam/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50QUPyNiIeP9PGqDruprJly0zkrcgbRr3FRQXi8ERpamUQhP_TNlXMkl1nEpIiiuTDEuT7kI02wtvYnwN2wh2rvVpAqgsQi_CWX6zd59mMtyGCyWytNSZ79EvKoyoMG3MBOYVVtqHQzam/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera06.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first (landed) Darwin Milkfish - from Cullen Bay Rockwall</td></tr>
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Oddly, losing the biggest milkfish I have so far hooked, I wasn't as devastated as I may have expected: I had fought the fish well on 16lb braid and a 5-12lb rod, and I really seemed to have the silver vegan monster beaten. The hook had come lose, which is not out of the ordinary with milkfish: they have tiny mouths for their size, so I use at largest a size 4 hook, but generally a size 6 to 8 hook. Still, a photo would have been nice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIkh6d4QSve5WDlJB_8U6npoKA3W3WxfbCCEUlAylhgsWK7Pvh_TjoiKN5mZAj4_K7Z-GVvd3yzYhTtfzC4217PZnSEdLc2FmBHFApYtM7FqDXfordzsfyWbEHrMXvCO8jmAr95WYt3_h/s1600/mulkfush1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIkh6d4QSve5WDlJB_8U6npoKA3W3WxfbCCEUlAylhgsWK7Pvh_TjoiKN5mZAj4_K7Z-GVvd3yzYhTtfzC4217PZnSEdLc2FmBHFApYtM7FqDXfordzsfyWbEHrMXvCO8jmAr95WYt3_h/s320/mulkfush1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The writing desk before a milkfish session. Four loaves are standard.</td></tr>
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For those eager to battle one of these magnificent vegetarian athletes, there are a few basic pointers I can give to help make it happen. Firstly, bring at least 4 loaves of bread, and burley constantly. I have tried a double method of using moist breadcrumbs, which you squeeze into a ball and let sink, as well as torn up slices of white sandwich loaf on the surface. This certainly attracts more fish, as well as other species like pikey bream and golden trevally, but it means that the fish feeding is not concentrated on the surface. So now I just tear inch square sections of sandwich bread. The burleying must be constant to attract and hold a school of fish, who will follow the trail back to the source, where you'll have your bait!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp5xXA4XQQkMJQa8xR5aXN_l0xe8gqBhGtl4aOrcZ6ATp9KTHk05Slw5DVKOETYGSPKJCraEaF5CRiNXf1NgyR9B-FRgWcFlFmbdvfxv97x-0kBjGWcVzToK7dz7jhUKjKqoiAuk9KLUZ6/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp5xXA4XQQkMJQa8xR5aXN_l0xe8gqBhGtl4aOrcZ6ATp9KTHk05Slw5DVKOETYGSPKJCraEaF5CRiNXf1NgyR9B-FRgWcFlFmbdvfxv97x-0kBjGWcVzToK7dz7jhUKjKqoiAuk9KLUZ6/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera12.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheat.</td></tr>
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Secondly, as I stated earlier, milkfish have small mouths. A trick I like is to make your bread piece smaller than the sections you are tearing off. A milkfish will choose a more mouth-sized section of bread over a larger piece. My technique, again, is to get a one inch square section of bread - not crust, which will break off the hook - and to gently fold it with enough pressure at the folded end to hold the two folds together, You want the bread to float and remain fluffy. Pass the hook through this folded corner, and it should stay on. Quickly and gently dip it in water to partially wet it for some casting weight. As soon as the bread starts sinking, replace it. Don't forget to bring some quality polaroids, as milkfishing means sightfishing, watching your bread bait like and osprey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCdYPsJfZC6vdKOGji4_D6Z8iwv7LGekaOfKeIeWAkloP87TyhcqAORKyCfoyAxAiuKhfn3u0kiEKMb4FG2-ns4EjaPGpB26oikdLz_GCLsPoiVcssdfxa91Ayb5S_Th_YpGJ5PYHq5QS/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHCdYPsJfZC6vdKOGji4_D6Z8iwv7LGekaOfKeIeWAkloP87TyhcqAORKyCfoyAxAiuKhfn3u0kiEKMb4FG2-ns4EjaPGpB26oikdLz_GCLsPoiVcssdfxa91Ayb5S_Th_YpGJ5PYHq5QS/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera11.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Decoy single lure hook.</td></tr>
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Lastly, hook size and leader material is very important. Milkfish have excellent vision, and regularly will suspiciously pass up an 'unnatural' looking piece of bread, a very visible leader and a larger hook. My hooks of choice are Decoy single lure hooks in the equivalent of size 6, which are very sharp and strong hooks. I am yet to have one bend on a fish. Leader material should be fluorocarbon or, if you can get away with it in the absence of oysters and sharp rocks, a high-flotation quality nylon. If fishing from a boat in clear water, you could use as light a leader as you liked for the toothless mouths of milkfish (from a boat I'd be using 6 to 8lb fluoro straight through on a 2500 sized real and a 7 ft, 4 - 8 lb rod, making sure I had at least 200 yards of line on the spool). But, unfortunately, from the shore there are too many abrasion hazards when battling such powerful fish, so heavier leaders are necessary.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrKhvnK9zFFxEP8f3MIhUmfEK-9CcCQ0LxtF-vRyws-bVQArwjCeIDzCvu1b2n0JPldoVHlkl0PjtyrPX0W-tI0LG_kC-G8RfzUj9dsIK9B0ui_zgAdBrq5vYbPdBP5wT-rQkPiGG4qsQu/s1600/milfish+related1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrKhvnK9zFFxEP8f3MIhUmfEK-9CcCQ0LxtF-vRyws-bVQArwjCeIDzCvu1b2n0JPldoVHlkl0PjtyrPX0W-tI0LG_kC-G8RfzUj9dsIK9B0ui_zgAdBrq5vYbPdBP5wT-rQkPiGG4qsQu/s320/milfish+related1.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This meter fish was taken on a Zenaq Seabass rod with a Daiwa 3012 Hyper Exist and 30lb braid after losing a fish on lighter tackle. Outgunned!</td></tr>
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A good place to begin any milkfish hunt is from the end of the Cullen Bay rockwall an hour either side of high tide. I have also seen them off east point, and along a few Darwin beaches and sandflats.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlH3tgpsolAdFxW3oQStg4lmm3gPG_MKqOxjeEYajzlwDDo3JHxQJFnBa8ivp_OgDcm8zV5MAo0c6ICDB1s02Ng20s27S0NxhKbaeCJD_kxglFsXxvCUqmC1weqcs_Oo6vCvtJB-G9nyq/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTlH3tgpsolAdFxW3oQStg4lmm3gPG_MKqOxjeEYajzlwDDo3JHxQJFnBa8ivp_OgDcm8zV5MAo0c6ICDB1s02Ng20s27S0NxhKbaeCJD_kxglFsXxvCUqmC1weqcs_Oo6vCvtJB-G9nyq/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera07.jpg" width="140" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Put some shoulder into it...</td></tr>
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Here are a few shots of other species you can expect to catch when fishing bread on the surface while chasing milkies!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZDmcnwQ5Hri_9vUB8Wkcvhz_pXk9UVTGK-Z3R-UAa_L6xjGifpMWpOUVucMnDXSYH1BeI5SlEO9jZUhkcm8mNhyphenhyphen0CagTZA5Zlnee3o-dMsEiOjL0kQDPIZOwhktqkKcV-y2gLtdgdIHl/s1600/milfish+related2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZDmcnwQ5Hri_9vUB8Wkcvhz_pXk9UVTGK-Z3R-UAa_L6xjGifpMWpOUVucMnDXSYH1BeI5SlEO9jZUhkcm8mNhyphenhyphen0CagTZA5Zlnee3o-dMsEiOjL0kQDPIZOwhktqkKcV-y2gLtdgdIHl/s320/milfish+related2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pikey Bream, like all bream, are bread junkies.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB94tnK_nDsudd2hE-zG2Wj0HOZyQiaI6NdSQvkKJg7f8tMB5hjqCtO7KcydXwCmod0aYU4v9MUuPHxu3ZhITc6qJxSGAlkVXo_lWRjwpdM9LksfNTj-zoU4S5KtJGCG9hQ2OIIqUc3OIZ/s1600/milfish+related3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB94tnK_nDsudd2hE-zG2Wj0HOZyQiaI6NdSQvkKJg7f8tMB5hjqCtO7KcydXwCmod0aYU4v9MUuPHxu3ZhITc6qJxSGAlkVXo_lWRjwpdM9LksfNTj-zoU4S5KtJGCG9hQ2OIIqUc3OIZ/s320/milfish+related3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mullet...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_Rdr_rOsZq1NUmYwpHikmS7WY5DKqjyCSn2zsifKA7UpqLvxe7NohS7iyxzVdeqBcdtpZJaedxsuMUWHUOV1SZdCNOei-RPV_fA3lx49-KHa3BTA7U3y-R-oIgKeEFC9GI-wmaqbVUoo/s1600/milfish+related6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR_Rdr_rOsZq1NUmYwpHikmS7WY5DKqjyCSn2zsifKA7UpqLvxe7NohS7iyxzVdeqBcdtpZJaedxsuMUWHUOV1SZdCNOei-RPV_fA3lx49-KHa3BTA7U3y-R-oIgKeEFC9GI-wmaqbVUoo/s320/milfish+related6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">.telluM</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIam_AnLYX-sVbJcnTYSgH_PQNArkmhghwELvzu5A3YI9ihijXO1Tql5YFgGsfeU1vJGDSgCxXjvjbqngtPHkQGV53m_DtKwoP8aM4UB4-Ptq3nR6btC0u9883aBp7cHu4h2vl2Q2EH5sw/s1600/milfish+related5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIam_AnLYX-sVbJcnTYSgH_PQNArkmhghwELvzu5A3YI9ihijXO1Tql5YFgGsfeU1vJGDSgCxXjvjbqngtPHkQGV53m_DtKwoP8aM4UB4-Ptq3nR6btC0u9883aBp7cHu4h2vl2Q2EH5sw/s320/milfish+related5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This batfish gave an awesome scrap on 12lb PE, a 2000s Stella and a Breambuster Ultra-Finesse.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewolv0-XXxorzTA9QmXJThBkmja9I51LP6D_AwBXmxbNPahjXZ5RPE0FZ00dCA0r0gKBBgUAGwFhR6azdoZIsAL-HAtZw_bewIuwOk2WTFmRC9KKzuZS3goYzzD3Cp64aPzXlIK0xSDET/s1600/milfish+related4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewolv0-XXxorzTA9QmXJThBkmja9I51LP6D_AwBXmxbNPahjXZ5RPE0FZ00dCA0r0gKBBgUAGwFhR6azdoZIsAL-HAtZw_bewIuwOk2WTFmRC9KKzuZS3goYzzD3Cp64aPzXlIK0xSDET/s320/milfish+related4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mulletbuster...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Lq85AHyrYjeE5aPpoVoahrlftoGQdSBc-YVKutjuTSF1mwhIl4qTUQk7h8w8mU1gJkO8sAx2PMYEa1mubNhiZjIWvNxbGiMaev7Ehi_oy6PDXDuCBnWoiCjzpEAr05t6La6l7TsOUhPn/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Lq85AHyrYjeE5aPpoVoahrlftoGQdSBc-YVKutjuTSF1mwhIl4qTUQk7h8w8mU1gJkO8sAx2PMYEa1mubNhiZjIWvNxbGiMaev7Ehi_oy6PDXDuCBnWoiCjzpEAr05t6La6l7TsOUhPn/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cullen Bay rockwall Mullet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqcj7cKmnvJMvil8mcOdnC7vZVuMuLgFPSAwAQCNV5ieYkIe2PgVpwhk9PrE_sDNqeI4O7-LahjqDlQkFlynjUSFleRGCGyfXUKet-J-fCUf5180nDlZFsmRN-pw7OFtoilrUMb7viqb6/s1600/milkfishing+and+ephermera03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqcj7cKmnvJMvil8mcOdnC7vZVuMuLgFPSAwAQCNV5ieYkIe2PgVpwhk9PrE_sDNqeI4O7-LahjqDlQkFlynjUSFleRGCGyfXUKet-J-fCUf5180nDlZFsmRN-pw7OFtoilrUMb7viqb6/s320/milkfishing+and+ephermera03.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Golden Trevally enjoy a bit of white sandwich loaf. On this occasion I caught three decent trevors on bread off the surface. </td></tr>
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-28004077729410080612013-03-10T22:43:00.002-07:002013-03-10T22:43:31.987-07:00Culvert Catfish...I arrived by bicycle at this not-so-secret Darwin culvert last week when the tides were not so large... and an hour after high tide. With very little water, I had a single hit from a little barra on the harbour side of the bridge, then crossed the road for the following, an almighty... catfish! Fish at this spot always enjoy a flesh coloured One-Up Shad!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5qGqQdxUNC8tcH_WBMRl4FEFY9AGeed1ID5fl4oFinkXCuRXrI5DXRO6Qy72C-a7YHKDRjIYtYk_0QihOMPnnCVnM9gYk_DIbcycPEycNoH3TrU4f1C5u1Mi5SRfu_TpY8JtYQr-Zf2M/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5qGqQdxUNC8tcH_WBMRl4FEFY9AGeed1ID5fl4oFinkXCuRXrI5DXRO6Qy72C-a7YHKDRjIYtYk_0QihOMPnnCVnM9gYk_DIbcycPEycNoH3TrU4f1C5u1Mi5SRfu_TpY8JtYQr-Zf2M/s320/march+5th+photoeseses02.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-80879830318231895312013-03-09T09:43:00.003-08:002013-03-09T09:43:39.692-08:00Sawfish by Squidgy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwE_qevsKHPPA_kcPhN0kgHIK2iVRJBshj68Ug-kWCO31bnGM-7OGpsVPRrXzSRhMj1ib8Ou7lX03T1S4WRhbHjKAV1esEaI5ttO-_cZ9Ownq6pxaDrksalH1ZYCmoXx5svG4V7XocyYN/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwE_qevsKHPPA_kcPhN0kgHIK2iVRJBshj68Ug-kWCO31bnGM-7OGpsVPRrXzSRhMj1ib8Ou7lX03T1S4WRhbHjKAV1esEaI5ttO-_cZ9Ownq6pxaDrksalH1ZYCmoXx5svG4V7XocyYN/s320/march+5th+photoeseses21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It was good to see the East Alligator in flood, even if it makes my usual techniques for fishing Cahills Crossing quite useless. After a few casts with larger hardbodies and heavier jigheads with only a single knock from a fish, I called it quits to return to Magela creek for a few tarpon. But then I saw something in the shallows. Casting at it, it swung its toothy head frantically from left to right. Within a second it had its mouth over the lure. Somehow it failed to hook up. But second cast with the squidgy, the prey followed the slow retrieve, swung at it again, and I was solidly hooked up to...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBK-rzwlcx_ESKTUC6yb-hF9zig7uVp814R9DnRVZoM22JE83vqBkVgGKUN0Jazd_0cVj6Vbm1llbCTJbR4Nvjs_iidry8LOKIOf_s8qQMXOMMD6psMO97zEibWbxreSFYKlbo9Hq7US2y/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBK-rzwlcx_ESKTUC6yb-hF9zig7uVp814R9DnRVZoM22JE83vqBkVgGKUN0Jazd_0cVj6Vbm1llbCTJbR4Nvjs_iidry8LOKIOf_s8qQMXOMMD6psMO97zEibWbxreSFYKlbo9Hq7US2y/s320/march+5th+photoeseses11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
A sawfish. I had to hold it's saw-snout down with a gentle but firm shoe to unhook the odd creature, which was promptly released. So now I've caught an eagle ray and a sawfish on soft plastics!<br />
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-75376496179136550032013-03-09T09:31:00.002-08:002013-03-09T09:31:28.112-08:00Sleepy Cod in Sleepy Water<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9TiPG8E0ZQVU99N_eYyozUrRxTcIcK7uHKWoICKVxXoLb_bu7S1oWlWrQuOPmlCLF06Yxmzbo87JKz__clXIXJaaXhgJ3X21tpHV_7luP86RChRTEMjqepig_pBKAfTMjFXJG_1iB6ay/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9TiPG8E0ZQVU99N_eYyozUrRxTcIcK7uHKWoICKVxXoLb_bu7S1oWlWrQuOPmlCLF06Yxmzbo87JKz__clXIXJaaXhgJ3X21tpHV_7luP86RChRTEMjqepig_pBKAfTMjFXJG_1iB6ay/s320/march+5th+photoeseses13.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Driving by this drying creek-bed pool, I saw a shiver of surface movement. Perhaps a barra had decided to give up on any real run-off, and took the opportunity to edge upstream when this creek was more than a trickle for a short time recently.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvp6DCo1MgoB2ry1j9RX2LXiDFZiGNWPTTQ3EBV8tqPRjBEY1lvKPMe_zKfXiy2MovW5OWgVunCrhU5nRlmWpWCoK4Fgo2570O1vg3bCaodGzf8QJktuS80his66BLZ6kUkB1A6ZF7wtQO/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvp6DCo1MgoB2ry1j9RX2LXiDFZiGNWPTTQ3EBV8tqPRjBEY1lvKPMe_zKfXiy2MovW5OWgVunCrhU5nRlmWpWCoK4Fgo2570O1vg3bCaodGzf8QJktuS80his66BLZ6kUkB1A6ZF7wtQO/s320/march+5th+photoeseses07.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
Second cast and I had a solid hit. A few casts later, something small and silver followed.<br />
And then a decent hook up while slow rolling the Tiny Megabass Xlayer close to the bottom.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityV-jAAFMzW-2DnOn0lcCD0-ppbb-j8PgMUY4oCQ3O50r71KOQw2rauXpehAbBtlnYo0cldkX0LrWMTd9mpzkrIRll894E5seYCiXTHUZoonTYxxTiwiq-Xyn8_fNzAOzrMwr9x1iA_D-/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEityV-jAAFMzW-2DnOn0lcCD0-ppbb-j8PgMUY4oCQ3O50r71KOQw2rauXpehAbBtlnYo0cldkX0LrWMTd9mpzkrIRll894E5seYCiXTHUZoonTYxxTiwiq-Xyn8_fNzAOzrMwr9x1iA_D-/s320/march+5th+photoeseses14.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
I always enjoy catching sleepy cod. This one was particularly lazy. But the colour on its fins was surprisingly vibrant.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiTyLkuvvxUd0SKrCTGuKbseVoeFcPoQnQ-SewJ34n2VArInsydwmeoXfWZeef_oUbBD__wguDolWNpHL-tKjZGirtivFewLd4Dv7QguhdA4ztE42GbQfUPVG3zkgEuwyhLPp94jRigvF/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiTyLkuvvxUd0SKrCTGuKbseVoeFcPoQnQ-SewJ34n2VArInsydwmeoXfWZeef_oUbBD__wguDolWNpHL-tKjZGirtivFewLd4Dv7QguhdA4ztE42GbQfUPVG3zkgEuwyhLPp94jRigvF/s320/march+5th+photoeseses16.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTq3RBqFQO0WqBCAhWdhamba9rInak4mDKi5ncHrCO8v-XNekLet-QQBGCxKzr_x2sULKtg4NZUU4wHx_jq2THtUXCzz0IayLAxkKdhQi_QOAY13YMFGl39X7fmOVJXMBHGq9rE1qq1Dq/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTq3RBqFQO0WqBCAhWdhamba9rInak4mDKi5ncHrCO8v-XNekLet-QQBGCxKzr_x2sULKtg4NZUU4wHx_jq2THtUXCzz0IayLAxkKdhQi_QOAY13YMFGl39X7fmOVJXMBHGq9rE1qq1Dq/s320/march+5th+photoeseses15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And last cast, switching over to a popper, a dwarven slab of archer fish.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHYd-tJxsh5DO5-EPbhS1PYKHnTdM9cQJMrMgYOigd29mlNx5ETlGb3tLZpbZQ1saqUDUrXA4z5yPiYLxdKJYagSUIWJYbvzbYyt9vHGZTjztwwIPSZUI8afjFAonbAEHddoi4cCYyd3w/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMHYd-tJxsh5DO5-EPbhS1PYKHnTdM9cQJMrMgYOigd29mlNx5ETlGb3tLZpbZQ1saqUDUrXA4z5yPiYLxdKJYagSUIWJYbvzbYyt9vHGZTjztwwIPSZUI8afjFAonbAEHddoi4cCYyd3w/s320/march+5th+photoeseses20.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
One of the wonderful things about the NT is being able to stop by a puddle like this and catch exotic fish without another human being anywhere nearby.The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-16156958390568143212013-03-09T09:16:00.000-08:002013-03-09T09:16:15.516-08:00No Barra But Tarpon...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL0ut3emauJrJG2bqUPOne_H-gS5hlxcdpd3ccSJcS4R40Zfp5SRBDisqIW2Xm75oodwsJ3CXIwvt3cpOnVimf2D7SDfyxZl2yoGwy4vHsBtGbJr9zbSEqIE8qrUT8BrUS_oSpRPpzRnR8/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL0ut3emauJrJG2bqUPOne_H-gS5hlxcdpd3ccSJcS4R40Zfp5SRBDisqIW2Xm75oodwsJ3CXIwvt3cpOnVimf2D7SDfyxZl2yoGwy4vHsBtGbJr9zbSEqIE8qrUT8BrUS_oSpRPpzRnR8/s320/march+5th+photoeseses10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A quick trip to Kadadu and Shady Camp, and not a single barra caught. I must admit I am a little confused as to where the barramundi are biding their time, hoping like I for a run-off that perhaps has ran away. I hardly even saw any barra, and heard not a single boof in two nights. But there were tarpon. Everywhere.</div>
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This shallow little stream was perfect to trip a few tiny surface lures across - little DUO poppers and Smith Towadis.</div>
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Dragging 30 -35 cm tarpon out from beneath a snaggy bridge gave the new Evergreen Kaleido Designo a bit of a workout.</div>
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Tarpon have particularly boney mouths, and can be tricky to hook on smaller trebles. I had a night at Nourlangie Creek where I was getting hit every cast, but failed to hook anything for more than a few seconds, with each fish in turn somersaulting out of the water and spitting the little surface lures. Unfortunately that was all they would go for, seeming to be feeding on insects alighting upon the surface (they went crazy for little cicada patterns). I think it didn't quite help running braid through the Designo rod and using short leaders because, expecting a possible barra, i was using 20lb Sunline Rockfish Fluoro for abrasion resistance, which of course meant that the leader knot was too big to cast through the small guides of the rod tip. The Designo Mach S1 is rated 2-6lb, but has a very substantial amount of butt strength and a super fast action with a solid tip. It can flick the lightest, unweighted plastics with amazing precision. But it is designed to be used with fluoro and nylon lines. First thing I did upon returning to Darwin was order some quality 5lb fluoro for the next small stream adventure.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMA6PgmR1Wzel3T3hWUnIcmIl37f8SaanwUlv0zp9iY1w2DtETnvc2BpbZJ9TsNCBNNnIhjohHl5LoBeEJ0bz4I5hgzOtpfGGYrdz1uS_3bLhp83i6mCYCajyQ0qlA-jzqCOOOO3eHVEt/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMA6PgmR1Wzel3T3hWUnIcmIl37f8SaanwUlv0zp9iY1w2DtETnvc2BpbZJ9TsNCBNNnIhjohHl5LoBeEJ0bz4I5hgzOtpfGGYrdz1uS_3bLhp83i6mCYCajyQ0qlA-jzqCOOOO3eHVEt/s320/march+5th+photoeseses22.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I caught tarpon in almost every little stream and water containing culvert. But I wanted a barra, so it was off to the Shady Camp barrage again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IFgNt9E4AnwDW0EQnBB0ygfdz6UGE4miFj-qt18q1RuEXqBhNbRRIhgUcVu3N02C1cckGgy3TqiVk6oOr7xv_fl2_9dAnnHMYjqTPXud1PclcWlQOdh0p92-NQtdh0ezulH0dTmxsx1b/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2IFgNt9E4AnwDW0EQnBB0ygfdz6UGE4miFj-qt18q1RuEXqBhNbRRIhgUcVu3N02C1cckGgy3TqiVk6oOr7xv_fl2_9dAnnHMYjqTPXud1PclcWlQOdh0p92-NQtdh0ezulH0dTmxsx1b/s320/march+5th+photoeseses24.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Big tides and more crocs than I have seen for a while. Fishing alone off the barrage at night, I had to shoo a 3.5 meter critter away with a big stick when it took the liberty of trying to sneak up behind me on the barrage. I was surrounded by crocs on every side. They seemed as hopeful for barra at high tide as I, and there were quite a few territorial fights. But neither I nor the crocs caught a barra that night. Strange days. But in the morning, there were tarpon every cast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1_P1gshzPEcaAOkgSHLOUZUUhqs_iiqJnmoDCOzJV9mIrCwM_PSI4VN7rtvNx2GMu-MgFqk3ektJek2sKfISc2_s9llF5qZlMaL7HU5gXYxIeo3ojvsy5yumLArtnPBdy_HRgMb12HW9/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1_P1gshzPEcaAOkgSHLOUZUUhqs_iiqJnmoDCOzJV9mIrCwM_PSI4VN7rtvNx2GMu-MgFqk3ektJek2sKfISc2_s9llF5qZlMaL7HU5gXYxIeo3ojvsy5yumLArtnPBdy_HRgMb12HW9/s320/march+5th+photoeseses25.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha57xPmT8u9bca3dfysmvLCR1j5UdKBf1lnPSkcEa7LGlOwDPD_Wr4m43xmaXA4xtqeRhJH1TElGynZh2L4Z2Jf3WMCGdakDMT87dGc0mulW4Suew3ZCQgRhW61hrVIvNOq98VT3ys6eOZ/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha57xPmT8u9bca3dfysmvLCR1j5UdKBf1lnPSkcEa7LGlOwDPD_Wr4m43xmaXA4xtqeRhJH1TElGynZh2L4Z2Jf3WMCGdakDMT87dGc0mulW4Suew3ZCQgRhW61hrVIvNOq98VT3ys6eOZ/s320/march+5th+photoeseses26.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgd5qVLoe65ER1ZG2wxO005Tg2qZmIFiDaRQ9NxtZChGmQfdzJP0WGkYwXqCfZr893JGhkJrzsU-g5jdVG14OtoCWUjRSpxWrEqWILiONx2bjytZmaBwh4AfF9pIqAHR0tThnNWFLMI-uB/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgd5qVLoe65ER1ZG2wxO005Tg2qZmIFiDaRQ9NxtZChGmQfdzJP0WGkYwXqCfZr893JGhkJrzsU-g5jdVG14OtoCWUjRSpxWrEqWILiONx2bjytZmaBwh4AfF9pIqAHR0tThnNWFLMI-uB/s320/march+5th+photoeseses27.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
There were also quite a few fish carcasses floating around from recent rain, washed dead and free from what were evaporating billabongs.<br />
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I thought I'd try a tiny trout lure I brought back from Japan, which the tarpon indeed seemed to like... but hooking them on the single trout hook was a different matter.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghv2Uyf40J1BOJ19zbMvqddCnqRSbNg2a-B_BpmNtCMLLnxhRPY7qQhfezqj5WFSk9T_TTlWyeWKF9Bm1i1C0mH2Z7isXYl-PmXVAC78n25t09ozND2rC5KFQJoOmpgz8pHJdlGiW46TLM/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghv2Uyf40J1BOJ19zbMvqddCnqRSbNg2a-B_BpmNtCMLLnxhRPY7qQhfezqj5WFSk9T_TTlWyeWKF9Bm1i1C0mH2Z7isXYl-PmXVAC78n25t09ozND2rC5KFQJoOmpgz8pHJdlGiW46TLM/s320/march+5th+photoeseses30.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
So I finally went back to the trusty old Squidgy shad in drop bear white, and hooked almost every strike after that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0F0VclRBLPfwoxU8fLUyt6f7cZGsKzd-xQEJS_6eJEpWxNdndoTZsaueMk2HoQb8z3UxwUT39PcbMp3zbAkyzqaR0BkPbS4ZeodVfeTC6IBn8uapiSgRfu5Cp5jOeQCBBTodH12eQo2eE/s1600/march+5th+photoeseses29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0F0VclRBLPfwoxU8fLUyt6f7cZGsKzd-xQEJS_6eJEpWxNdndoTZsaueMk2HoQb8z3UxwUT39PcbMp3zbAkyzqaR0BkPbS4ZeodVfeTC6IBn8uapiSgRfu5Cp5jOeQCBBTodH12eQo2eE/s320/march+5th+photoeseses29.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Here is the surgery I perform to rig these lures weedless. Fancy times!<br />
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And another shot of the new Evergreen rod, colour matched to a Daiwa TD-Z Type R+. I can't wait to run some fluoro through it!<br />
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-55264737942838826762013-02-17T06:03:00.000-08:002013-02-17T06:10:57.963-08:00More Of the Small From Darwin Shores.It occurred to me this afternoon that some of the most rewarding fishing experiences are not the times when one bags out on big fish - although we certainly all hope for that - but when, instead, the fishing is hard going; the fish seem to have either shut down, or else there are just not many specimens about. On these occasions an angler must have recourse to every ounce of fishing ingenuity to tempt something to gobble a lure... not to forget a healthy dose of stubbornness. Finally, after trying every conceivable technique, lure and colour for an hour or three, gritting teeth and refusing to let the sea win, the effort pays off with a fish or two. Such ordeals, with the hard-earned reward at the end, are what fishing is all about for me. It is where one really learns <i>how</i> to catch fish - listening to the particularity of ones location and really working with ones angling skill-set - such that one can, eventually, catch at least one fish every time one goes fishing. <br />
Suddenly that little rock cod that is an annoyance on a day when barra are rolling around in the shallows and snapping at plastic paddle tails becomes a piece of gold whose measure is sweat and effort in an angling desert. What makes a good angler is not, as the common belief runs, patience. Rather, it is a lack of patience, a stubborn desire to not leave without a fish, sensitivity to the fishing location and frantic experimentation. Well... we must tell ourselves such things: there is always a smidgeon of luck involved.<br />
So here are some photos from just such a session.<br />
First up was a little fingermark, just after a fellow angler - who had done quite well the day before - gave up. The sun was beating down and the fish just were not playing ball. But I wasn't letting this work-free day slip away so readily without a damn fish, so I kept plugging away, changing lure every few casts. The fingermark slipped from my hands as I poised the iPhone for a snap... I am still getting the hang of just hanging onto wet fish whilst standing in water and twisting a camera phone in my other hand. So here is a flick of the first of a few cod on a Megabass X-layer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2ABvm6CEA037oGxboDp0yBUV2vYL1a-rb6_EHEZGbaDVjVWUNHdbfMRR8W6fBTV5h-KYohTU7KWjWP5PsIl4iYPk1Fs3itn4-HlIsGMMrTmkYBGlwEvp6Nd68MqiUR7pVJ05L4ppG_k9/s1600/feb15th+20135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF2ABvm6CEA037oGxboDp0yBUV2vYL1a-rb6_EHEZGbaDVjVWUNHdbfMRR8W6fBTV5h-KYohTU7KWjWP5PsIl4iYPk1Fs3itn4-HlIsGMMrTmkYBGlwEvp6Nd68MqiUR7pVJ05L4ppG_k9/s320/feb15th+20135.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Then this little fella jumped on the X-layer, a lure almost the same length as the creature's ambitious body. I'll have to do a bit of research into what the hell it is. It had poisonous looking spikes under its jaw, and a mouth of boney plates that could crush shell: I was silly enough to let it clamp down on my finger for a second. An anime escapee perhaps? A finned and scaled peg fallen to water from a washing line?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9bOhp-vBGNhwpN9r9MJja0YBZWG1FiyAIV2VjXoV47NsJLHGHjwnTcIKodvXMawKR-iu0RdQI_lMYBL13-f55ZCItQjIDQRq6MPEtMkZQizqhwG_mCCP_Zzy7D4-rG3i5Ssbmfmk-mHx/s1600/feb15th+20136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9bOhp-vBGNhwpN9r9MJja0YBZWG1FiyAIV2VjXoV47NsJLHGHjwnTcIKodvXMawKR-iu0RdQI_lMYBL13-f55ZCItQjIDQRq6MPEtMkZQizqhwG_mCCP_Zzy7D4-rG3i5Ssbmfmk-mHx/s320/feb15th+20136.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Take me to your leader..."; bad pun.</td></tr>
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Then a surprise catfish on my favourite flats barra coloured medium sized minnow. Gold and red-ish.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_CTpz7Y0I8WJxkiqpqDCacV9XPxD4N4CgbDNNIcMBq-WlIY4zQDWdwXJSV3fl4AF5nvd5sAzl6q2bsmmi7Ahx3y023wBB9vpoe1efeSPfgQ7fqi2kLxQdTu9ucs0GYbDRRqPyLGymkT3S/s1600/IMG_2119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_CTpz7Y0I8WJxkiqpqDCacV9XPxD4N4CgbDNNIcMBq-WlIY4zQDWdwXJSV3fl4AF5nvd5sAzl6q2bsmmi7Ahx3y023wBB9vpoe1efeSPfgQ7fqi2kLxQdTu9ucs0GYbDRRqPyLGymkT3S/s320/IMG_2119.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smith make beautiful lures for beautiful fish. What lovely eyes you have!</td></tr>
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These catfish sure know how to take drag. I was hoping it was going to flash a bit of silver, then leap and show itself as a decent barra. But beggars can't be choosy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_Ojg9zmZTIiLvlWJ1U2SG7Yu8SNT-FvBSv2TrgIcn1gYQFImcrFbXx-HmCuiKxfF6hR39Iq7iBDTmlAyxlwXqK3Ml2XMBQs-xNSiBQiBGsF5EszqKk_qKkcS_dJmtv77hFgND84G-5EK/s1600/IMG_2121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6_Ojg9zmZTIiLvlWJ1U2SG7Yu8SNT-FvBSv2TrgIcn1gYQFImcrFbXx-HmCuiKxfF6hR39Iq7iBDTmlAyxlwXqK3Ml2XMBQs-xNSiBQiBGsF5EszqKk_qKkcS_dJmtv77hFgND84G-5EK/s320/IMG_2121.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
And finally a bungy-jumper on a Megabass Flap Slap, which I hoped would imitate the herring harbour fish like to suck down at this time of the year. Instead it inspired a cod to some extreme sport.<br />
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So after sensibleness would have long called the day fish-less and settled for a beer, I managed 3 cod, that odd little plate-mouthed critter, a fingermark and a catfish. Nothing big, but persistence paid off.<br />
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Later that evening I hit 'Pond X', but didn't have to work so hard: 3 barra in an hour, plus a hatchback version of a giant herring and a tarpon.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzUVtXaVi5jEk4HRlv1O1SM8v8S5_UtB4jSkXTwe1X7huXZtVFtmuUVsSHJ-LUypZ8rfCUfAxbtGyBoln8QAnaQTKxbSCyxjPlNtDRmTXc1oraSBja0xJpXTYMoZimX7eq1cfeGockcri/s1600/feb15th+20132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpzUVtXaVi5jEk4HRlv1O1SM8v8S5_UtB4jSkXTwe1X7huXZtVFtmuUVsSHJ-LUypZ8rfCUfAxbtGyBoln8QAnaQTKxbSCyxjPlNtDRmTXc1oraSBja0xJpXTYMoZimX7eq1cfeGockcri/s320/feb15th+20132.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first barra on a Megabass Griffon. Shallow diving with a tight and frenzied wobbling action.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQG-m4Bwyn18_t1itenW6EGCKdWApuEBArNXr1nF3tXq-OoPEiw4r8MER40fEi9G20iiQ6LO23bg3Bqmz4v64Gs5hiIHPyC-otjL7PTHarUyJHIIdYb6gXCc-BYOdt_iMUWjL9nVswaJ-b/s1600/IMG_2095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQG-m4Bwyn18_t1itenW6EGCKdWApuEBArNXr1nF3tXq-OoPEiw4r8MER40fEi9G20iiQ6LO23bg3Bqmz4v64Gs5hiIHPyC-otjL7PTHarUyJHIIdYb6gXCc-BYOdt_iMUWjL9nVswaJ-b/s320/IMG_2095.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only the finest quality iPhone photography! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxR7CEk0ozdRnOaahrG-ugk4PbYsMmWniutWfZwHUsW6irK3sxYE4Y75cw82qChS40kpSx5NQgjEE19JuZ7rrkYt1rTrPx7a9dPdOu6eAqHL3LEXD1NbQ65e2e1pCsoMS7N_hjh73lWmf/s1600/feb15th+20133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxR7CEk0ozdRnOaahrG-ugk4PbYsMmWniutWfZwHUsW6irK3sxYE4Y75cw82qChS40kpSx5NQgjEE19JuZ7rrkYt1rTrPx7a9dPdOu6eAqHL3LEXD1NbQ65e2e1pCsoMS7N_hjh73lWmf/s320/feb15th+20133.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secret Megabass Barra attractor with inlaid mother of pearl... and a much tougher lure than the Vision 110. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfMJs9cNFe2lw39O9Mm40qdcE7bLmQ8WY3GbhlnksZee7xF_X8dYRPQpTvURQIwIvLepf8NZOc3_o1jtXW0HwyMLAkU68eWj7QaYOzlwNw1Un10acE9_Xt7PTMLOxwzcfYmo6Qc8tduV8/s1600/feb15th+20131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfMJs9cNFe2lw39O9Mm40qdcE7bLmQ8WY3GbhlnksZee7xF_X8dYRPQpTvURQIwIvLepf8NZOc3_o1jtXW0HwyMLAkU68eWj7QaYOzlwNw1Un10acE9_Xt7PTMLOxwzcfYmo6Qc8tduV8/s320/feb15th+20131.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tarpon had quite a few snaps at this gold Smith Camion, but only one could commit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauouNb89FzFUAd0s4QvY-xpiQzCduj1j6FVbp6ObkIv5Ve0YKc3hzl18ZX6DRPMPhXdBozga2y8bDlkoTF7NPkHQ4-mOTXZjuMMjTgVfstRE5S_r8HRf9GfgqMvga8GdvnBiTnQP0Dc4W/s1600/IMG_2128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgauouNb89FzFUAd0s4QvY-xpiQzCduj1j6FVbp6ObkIv5Ve0YKc3hzl18ZX6DRPMPhXdBozga2y8bDlkoTF7NPkHQ4-mOTXZjuMMjTgVfstRE5S_r8HRf9GfgqMvga8GdvnBiTnQP0Dc4W/s320/IMG_2128.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Folks up North seem to call these herring Ladyfish. I guess fisherman get lonely too.<br />
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I know there are more of these giant herring around (another "Secret Spot X"...) and they are great fun on light tackle. This night they were mostly splashing about just out of casting range. I was lucky to get this on a big stickbait. For my 'tackle enthusiast problem', this is enough of an excuse to look into buying a rod just for the purpose: fishing light lures and unweighted plastics in an area where I need to cast them the better part of 40 meters while surrounded by scrub. So I've ordered this... <a href="http://translate.google.com.au/translate?hl=en&sl=ja&u=http://www.evergreen-fishing.com/goods_list/EverGreen_01088250_1.html&prev=/search%3Fq%3DTKDS-63L%2B%25E2%2580%258B%25E2%2580%258BS-1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26hs%3D9mE%26tbo%3Dd%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official&sa=X&ei=QPceUdHqCKiemQWlpoHoAQ&ved=0CDcQ7gEwAA">Evergreen Kaleido Designo</a>... a rod utterly unsuited to most Northern Australian fishing. Unless you also like chasing sooty grunter and barra in small streams!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBU38dq1ja1Cyh0AIMfRkYeJFQHI-Ec9a0cG6OIwnipFbXfqGyzk4wlUS3mj-pxqFO90TlzTalIWLY1p0HjaMFR17y-5r1kDoeO1MLCUrfcPEts39pDFcxFToA3YsOwdP4h3xvMSmYsC_O/s1600/feb15th+20134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBU38dq1ja1Cyh0AIMfRkYeJFQHI-Ec9a0cG6OIwnipFbXfqGyzk4wlUS3mj-pxqFO90TlzTalIWLY1p0HjaMFR17y-5r1kDoeO1MLCUrfcPEts39pDFcxFToA3YsOwdP4h3xvMSmYsC_O/s320/feb15th+20134.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I think someone else must have been consumed by the rubbish I have to wade through when 'Pond X' is flooded at high tide, with only a single shoe escaping the maw of rubbish and mud. A jogger hopefully.The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-13410512738324716122013-02-11T06:18:00.000-08:002013-02-11T06:18:23.687-08:00Against the Rising Wind... and Puddle X<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After the evasive drawl of returning to work for my first full week since arriving back in Australia, today I found myself finally free for a fish. Upon waking, the day was calm- though as muggy as the wet season has each day be - and in a few hours lay a low tide. Fishing the shoreline of Darwin revolves around either a low tide exposing for the angler's feet stretches of rock or sand that are usually drowned beneath a few meters of sea; or else a high tide whose flood pushes fish into places they are eager to feed. At present there is a 7 meter difference between high and low. That means 2 sessions on a work-free day!<div>
By the time I was ready to head to 'point x' - perhaps the safest bet for a barra capture near Darwin's CBD - the palm leaves were swaying in a direction I preferred not to see: 'point x' would have a milliard little brown waves slapping across its shallows, which barra do not like. So instead I drove to East Point, which has a few options somewhat away from a North West wind.</div>
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<br />This was my second session from Darwin shores in almost 4 months. I chose a location where a channel of turquoise water lay protected from the wind by an expansive bed of rocks shallowly covered. Third cast and my Fish Arrow Flash-J shad was getting niggly knocks. Next cast, this pretty little cod sucked the Flash-J down...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHIGTRn-vT72VYdzQo2YafXdBolrCNaWbgNKuGrz1YPA3hq-efSwcO85bRtu1MMd8tNYEk_b4YVP6PoNomK8aFth07OgIb08oTlTourUwf1cFHDDMj0chiVKL5mIMPk4kJjlRaSCaijK9/s1600/feb11th20121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHIGTRn-vT72VYdzQo2YafXdBolrCNaWbgNKuGrz1YPA3hq-efSwcO85bRtu1MMd8tNYEk_b4YVP6PoNomK8aFth07OgIb08oTlTourUwf1cFHDDMj0chiVKL5mIMPk4kJjlRaSCaijK9/s320/feb11th20121.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
After a few more small hits - likely from another cod - I changed location. Putting on a tiny DUO popper, what looked oddly like a fat pikey bream leapt sideways from the water, flinging the popper a few feet without getting hooked. Several casts later, another hit without a taker. The wind was growing too fierce for the popper, so I switched to a 4 inch Sawamura One Up Shad. These are perhaps my favourite paddle-tailed soft plastics: the indented mid-section gives the lure a great wobble, and the tail action is vivid enough to be felt as a pur through the rod tip. There is a groove both above and below for fishing them weedless - I like to use weedless jigheads such as the Decoy Nailbomb, which fit these plastics perfectly.<br />
Second cast with the One Up Shad and I received a solid hit as soon as it collided with the surface... but no hook set. This is what was returned to me...<br />
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One Up Shads are a rather soft bait, but whatever did this had teeth more poignant than a long tom.<br />
As the tide drove me back, the wind picked up even more, which now made feeling adequate contact with a soft plastic difficult. Using a heavier jighead in this rocky area only leads to snags. So hardbodies were the option.<br />
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This parrot fish fought like a bigger barra... for 5 seconds. An ambitious fish considering the size of the Smith lure it hit.<br />
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Half an hour of casting bigger hardbodies proved otherwise fruitless. So on went a Zipbaits Khamsin to see if any smaller fish were about. One was, but not the little fingermark or 7 inch barra I expected...<br />
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The young mackerel fought valiantly considering it was quite outgunned. Exciting to catch a mackerel on a stalwart black bream lure.<br />
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The weather kept turning worse, and with thunder and shifts of rain in the distance, I decided to have a break until high tide at 'puddle x'.</div>
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One fish that is less than a regular on the end of a Darwin angler's line - unexpectedly for those moving to Darwin from Southern states - is the mighty mangrove jack. I managed to catch only two throughout 2012, both being surprise fish when targeting other species (my few dedicated mangrove jack explorations always came back empty). One location I thought had mangrove jack potential was confirmed by Hiro, who vouches he has pulled a few out. 'Puddle x' can only viably be fished during tides over 7.2 meters. I've caught barra and tarpon there on a handful of visits. But tonight, despite arriving half an hour after high tide, the Sawamura One Up Shad gathered me something red...</div>
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Not a big fish - and I apologise for the awful, night-time iPhone shots - but this is the first Darwin mangrove jack I have caught when actually targeting them specifically. I also had 2 other jack bumps - both managed to mostly drag the lure off the jighead - and a quick barra hookup that just as quickly slipped the hook. Hopefully I can pull out a larger jack next session...</div>
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The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-243208206638836041.post-79642844705885576962013-02-05T00:34:00.001-08:002013-02-05T00:34:27.004-08:00Shady Camp when it just won't rain...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JGJwzobaCEenHBTJPkA2b5Yupo0yiNsk7Q6VTO0tXpvaIcD9AZu5wkSuPPASvUbO0St_-zsr2pk5B-X1cQiryRHSYsrIH2Aaxl5HsUIK_tV7FvH4p3OGBq_g9lHpphcHtxpPfR2uB2ai/s1600/DSCF1936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7JGJwzobaCEenHBTJPkA2b5Yupo0yiNsk7Q6VTO0tXpvaIcD9AZu5wkSuPPASvUbO0St_-zsr2pk5B-X1cQiryRHSYsrIH2Aaxl5HsUIK_tV7FvH4p3OGBq_g9lHpphcHtxpPfR2uB2ai/s320/DSCF1936.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The first time I drove to the Shady Camp barrage, I was rather unimpressed. Not being familiar with the NT's floodplains, it struck me as barren. Over the past year and a half it has proved itself a most fertile place. And with every visit the natural cast changes. Of course the agile wallabies are always there, and the boobook owls that roost in the left hand camping ground's trees. But what I really mean are those nights when, in a drizzly, light rain, green tree frogs emerge in force, clinging on every rock and low tree limb. Or when the giant stink flowers of a certain kind of yam were found beneath one of the shady old figs, bestowing in a 50 meter radius the odour of maggoty carrion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsy_XsSSymR7W29U3lyZBhxjHPTwsW4CGMmGdKBYO4hW1SWIDhK5DUGjDaEHXkh5uk8iBN7a5vdmrowBhi3aTzS4y5esS-CTmL62KGjYB4DxzGW7B5AkiKU3qcXBfZYeXCDGcNjBmkTdxk/s1600/IMG_2004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsy_XsSSymR7W29U3lyZBhxjHPTwsW4CGMmGdKBYO4hW1SWIDhK5DUGjDaEHXkh5uk8iBN7a5vdmrowBhi3aTzS4y5esS-CTmL62KGjYB4DxzGW7B5AkiKU3qcXBfZYeXCDGcNjBmkTdxk/s320/IMG_2004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Usually at this time of year the place is thick with mosquitoes: I've travelled to 25 countries, and nothing comes close to the mosquito population of Shady after rain. Few mosquitoes were there last weekend; though still enough to leave rounds of bites on whatever parts of my frame happened to press against our tent's mesh as I slept. Instead, last weekend, tiny insects were in plague proportions: minuscule moths of several varieties, miniature cockroaches, beetles of many kinds. In ears, mouths, crowding to any unfortunate light.<br />
And this fella too:<br />
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But everyone really heads to Shady Camp for the fish, fish that last weekend were unforthcoming.<br />
The lack of a wet so far has meant the fish are yet to fire. Driving there, dreaming of all the freshly spawned fish awaiting high tide so they could slip upstream across the barrage, imagining catching those fish on the saltwater side - now released from the several month no-fishing season - I recalled the 19 fish my partner and I caught around this time last: all fish over-size, captured in under three hours by yo-yoing 4inch stickbaits in the current on bream tackle!<br />
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Arriving at the barrage, I could see that things weren't right: no-one fishing except two blokes drinking by their ute. After a chat with them - friendly old Darwin locals who recounted the 8 hour drive to Shady when they were kids - I gathered no-one had done any good despite there being 10 people fishing the high tide two hours ago. <br />
Still, fisherman not catching fish in the NT doesn't generally mean there are no fish there... one just has to have an inkling how to catch them. Well, at least that is sometimes the case.<br />
So off I tramped with a 1000 Stella and my 2lb - 6lb Millerrod Ultra Finesse Breambuster, loaded with 4lb Untika trout braid and a cast of 2 - 2.5 inch stickbaits on weedless Decoy jig heads. First cast, nothing.<br />
Second cast and i felt that familiar, lip of the barrage, rattling hit as a fish darted out to grab what it thought was a little mullet about to be sucked over by the current...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_Vo6_KHc809eh6NFb9LrBpBKinU_tYQRgmv86fr3WPuvgtH0o86QZoKRrWtzzzGIKvkGIMh1TfRldfgLhaBbB2t-IeG_mPBgDfeEvvsU6NeXVgdt5QbhCsfM30ApF1xg7szxX066Jsur/s1600/IMG_1998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih_Vo6_KHc809eh6NFb9LrBpBKinU_tYQRgmv86fr3WPuvgtH0o86QZoKRrWtzzzGIKvkGIMh1TfRldfgLhaBbB2t-IeG_mPBgDfeEvvsU6NeXVgdt5QbhCsfM30ApF1xg7szxX066Jsur/s320/IMG_1998.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OSP Mylar Minnow</td></tr>
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Third cast and so forth...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OSP Mylar Minnow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4i0gVIr1VjuJCNViQT951LNZJ5x0Mt3mV9L7G9aZSyeFyVasZHvtJSxDU2k2LYgbMUCMmj20lnN1yH4F-4zrBWmCPJhBn-KA9A_N3hl5qazmDiI6s8ABYdkTiGz3QnBnXsEZVU6lu1Yj/s1600/IMG_2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4i0gVIr1VjuJCNViQT951LNZJ5x0Mt3mV9L7G9aZSyeFyVasZHvtJSxDU2k2LYgbMUCMmj20lnN1yH4F-4zrBWmCPJhBn-KA9A_N3hl5qazmDiI6s8ABYdkTiGz3QnBnXsEZVU6lu1Yj/s320/IMG_2003.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A particularly bronze 'rat' on a Megabass Tiny XLayer</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And all the other photos were worse than this fish, caught on a Fish Arrow flash J</td></tr>
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An hour later, as the sun was setting and the mosquitoes began sticking my skin, I had landed 8 barra up to 40cm. Most people call barra this size 'rats'. There is an odd phenomenon in the barra fishing world where fisherman act as though catching small fish is a curse. I'm one of those bream and trout luring, southern weirdos who is just happy to catch any fish, and catch as many as possible. Each fish is a unit of happiness for me. As a teenage, competition match angler, I once even won a coarse angling comp by catching five galaxias smaller than my little finger, using single maggots on size 22 hooks.<br />
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The problem with this attitude towards smaller barra is that, having fished at least 3 times a week in the NT for the past year, not only do I even see anglers regularly catching any fish, let alone 'rats'; but all the bigger barra I have seen caught in the past year have really had more to do with chance than angler skill. Take a busy day at the Shady barrage for example, where you have 10 fisherman, half with wire traces, casting generally similar paddle-tailed soft plastics. Unless the fishing is particularly miserable, someone is certain to hook something and that someone will hook that something not due to a skill the 9 other anglers lack, but due to the lucklessness of an unfortunate fish that will soon be flopping amongst beers in an esky. This equates to simple statistical probability, not a skilful bending of fate to the angler's wily will.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Darwin beach 'rat' on a Bassday Sugar Minnow, 3lb fluoro, a 2lb-4lb Daiko Elize JDM trout rod and 1000 Stella.</td></tr>
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Of course there are some barra anglers who regularly catch meter plus fish. Those I know who accomplish this impressive feat have boats and go to remote, big rivers. But as to being land based, I recall days spent fishing the run-off at the three bridges in Kakadu where i would average between 30 to 50 fish of all sizes a day whilst seeing perhaps ten - if lucky - fish caught the entire day by all other anglers combined, most of whom stick to the trusty white, pre-rigged squidgy fish. They would dismissively scoff at the 'rats' I was catching, then fall silent when I battled out a 70 or 80 cm fish on what was racks-weight bream gear. As the proverb goes, you can catch a big fish on a small hook, but not a small fish on a big hook. Though I guess the logic of using heavier tackle is that you may not catch nearly as many fish as a light tackle angler, but if you hook that big one you've a much better chance of landing her. Never mind all the practice one gets playing fish on light tackle! When things are all said and done, I think the dismissal of and purported disappointment with catching 'rats' is all empty posturing, and folks are really inwardly pleased, like me, just catching any fish.<br />
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Back to Shady Camp on the weekend. After being mildy titillated by the 8 'rats' i hooked in an hour, I set my alarm to wake for the 2AM high tide. As usual I expected a few of those dirty bait fishermen to be illegally chucking their mullet off the barrage in the post-midnight hours - Fisheries really need to do something about this. But when my alarm rang, I awoke to rain, put on snooze and awoke at 9am, only 7 hours late for the night's high tide. Sure enough in the morning I found traces of the dirty baitos' illegal fishing: a big catfish half dead in the shallows that had partially dried in the sun and somehow made its way back to the water to slowly die; the usual rubbish and beers left across the barrage with hooks and tangled line; and the poor little 'rat' below that had been oddly released after probably being gut hooked. Perhaps the baitos thought it too small for eating...<br />
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By 10am I was fishing and things weren't looking good: already boats were returning. I spoke to some blokes who had been in the salt all night, resulting in just two fish. A few hours later, with only a few follows to show, I was packing up when a couple parked their car, wobbled onto the barrage and proceeded to fish. A few casts later one of them hooked a 75cm fish at her feet, casting a big pre-rigged Bozo on a wire trace. It was the first time she had ever used a lure. I felt broken, watching them kill the fish, then watching her cast at every big mullet yelling Barra, Barra. By this time things were getting crowded, so I left a few hours before high tide.<br />
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Off to nearby Stream X for a bit of fun in the fast water:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtsLmznPET6eEmpCrr-4e2Al6hSh5c77f8JmHxt1dj78xTGm20R4R_EPdyspbIWLRODoWbCPeDjIe7mAeALOBeDi3Kh5hemIfnMGkv1z1Da0s-iY2B516Tw1NPsj_TMWMQ33g2jrH2KzzW/s1600/IMG_2018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtsLmznPET6eEmpCrr-4e2Al6hSh5c77f8JmHxt1dj78xTGm20R4R_EPdyspbIWLRODoWbCPeDjIe7mAeALOBeDi3Kh5hemIfnMGkv1z1Da0s-iY2B516Tw1NPsj_TMWMQ33g2jrH2KzzW/s320/IMG_2018.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smith Camion</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFREfxfADN8tyoznOcntgYhr3Aam29HJN3sYlEa4DZ21TteRXw604ZUd13GPs9zaXNdNK9z2ceRvLvdV99NWhOEf-2DWYVVZJI98H5HY2XD5Cdk4yePaiBx2nzPzlF0-M6meQety3LtcH/s1600/IMG_2019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFREfxfADN8tyoznOcntgYhr3Aam29HJN3sYlEa4DZ21TteRXw604ZUd13GPs9zaXNdNK9z2ceRvLvdV99NWhOEf-2DWYVVZJI98H5HY2XD5Cdk4yePaiBx2nzPzlF0-M6meQety3LtcH/s320/IMG_2019.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ito Craft Emishi</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwpVRWoMxwVYlebhxH0ZECTmAdiyCAlFHQr0mvOeIc3Qz5rxIzRDZcpaycIaClcoe4RBPzMsI5Bzcn6AhNjEXYuue-73Zrw3QvTOuWa9fBPgpcYSnZSsL2whvB3A-kMHRoojR-kC_dZ2IA/s1600/IMG_2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwpVRWoMxwVYlebhxH0ZECTmAdiyCAlFHQr0mvOeIc3Qz5rxIzRDZcpaycIaClcoe4RBPzMsI5Bzcn6AhNjEXYuue-73Zrw3QvTOuWa9fBPgpcYSnZSsL2whvB3A-kMHRoojR-kC_dZ2IA/s320/IMG_2021.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duo tiny popper</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3y5eKwY1Hwp_yeGms3wGrSzjCX2toP3Dr5KdDN9pOB6ELGh7i6-fZQo_jRDeSCpNakWjGawvqrlsqFRbOhQ-yppoiCD1sI01oiRn02_wLxoH23W6tfmkofuZRz7OyBSMUi8WTxNPyDz6m/s1600/IMG_2022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3y5eKwY1Hwp_yeGms3wGrSzjCX2toP3Dr5KdDN9pOB6ELGh7i6-fZQo_jRDeSCpNakWjGawvqrlsqFRbOhQ-yppoiCD1sI01oiRn02_wLxoH23W6tfmkofuZRz7OyBSMUi8WTxNPyDz6m/s320/IMG_2022.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My biggest spotted grunter so far, taken in slower water on a Next One Drug Shad<br /></td></tr>
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After 10 tarpon, a missed barra of around 50cm and noticing the small crocodiles growing bigger as I headed upstream, then having a bolt of lightning land a few hundred meters away, we were off to the Corroboree Park Tavern for a well earned meal, then back to Darwin for work early the next day, with lightning following us the entire way.<br />
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<br />The Twilit Garble of a Wattlebird: Flight & Non-Identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15578315132915984033noreply@blogger.com0