October 2004 - The maiden trip of the season

An unexpected call on a September Saturday morning, the best I’ve had for a long time.

“Helmut, this is Bob Cooper here, you know me, we were in the Qu… fly fishing club together”.

 I instantly recognised the voice. Raucous with an English accent.

“I just want to tell you that I read your book and it is bloody marvellous”…

Bob and I had been in the same fly fishing club some years ago. We both left at different times but for the same reasons. We lost contact; we really never had one, other than knowing each other.

When he rang a week after my book “The Trout Whisperer” was launched in September 2004 to congratulate me on the book I knew immediately who he was, and I was absolutely delighted with what he had to say about my book.

Unbeknown to me, Bob lives now 20 min from me and I instantly decided to invite him to come fishing with me in ‘the trout whisperer’ - the boat- not the book.

Bob is one of those people we all like to go outdoors with, a man of my own heart, experienced bushman, non smoker, straight to the point, not a bullshit artist and a competent fly fisher who knows his stuff, his reputation is solid.

Our first preliminary fishing date fell through due to bad weather. We are both retired, so we can afford to be choosy, we don’t have to go because it is Saturday and it’s blowing like the clappers we are fair weather fly fishers. Well, there is always gardening.

The weather bureau finally confirmed that Tuesday was going to be the pick of the week, Bob arrived 5 min before mid morning, the sign of a keen fly fisher, and since we had not seen each other for some 4 years, the 50 min drive to Arthur’s Lake went quickly.   

A blue sky, variable wind 5-10 knots greeted us, just as the forecaster had predicted. It promised a pleasant day, even if the fish wouldn’t cooperate.

Bob decided to go floating line with a dognobbler, which allowed him to fish about a 1.5 m deep in the cold water. He soon drew first blood, a fingerling sized trouty thingy about twice the size of my…. , His 'dognobbler' but more enthusiastically wiggling. Bob the cradle snatcher!

Than there was nothing for the next 500 casts, long time no fish. While Bob fished a floating line with his dognobbler, I fished a sinking line with three flies, a bead head nymph at the point, a caddis fly in the middle and a bushy something at the top. After I left the flies high up in a tree – oh we don’t like them tree fish, I changed to a single Booby.

Members of my club had been at Arthur’s and advocated the use of a Booby. It is a fly with foam bug eyes, fished with a fast or ultra fast sinking line. The line is allowed to sink to the desired depth, but the booby floats higher than the line, thus avoiding being snagged in the weed.

After an hour of flogging the Booby and two sandwiches and 3 cups of coffee later, I decided to change to a Zonker. The Zonker is the opposite of a booby; it is a reasonably heavy fly even if unweighted. It should be called “the Bank Manager” as it utilises bug eyes from the chain with which the bank ties their 5cent biros securely to the branch. These chains are hard to get except in the banks, but then there are the security cameras. You pull that chain you go down the gurgler. In no time you have the SWAT team pointing guns at you.

Anyway, I divert – again. A Zonker on an ultra fast sinking line gets you deep and fast, but you have to strip in quickly or you get snagged.

This was my first trip this season and my first hit was a 'hit', a very stroppy hen fish, a smidgin over 3 lb with the Zonker firmly embedded into the scissor. He did use all of his weight to his advantage and I was lucky to hook him away from the trees. He was a beautiful well-proportioned brown, which even in the deep freezer looks good.

Bob went dry, but there was no food on the top, other than an occasional gum beetle. Not enough to bring the fish up, although we saw one rise at a distance. So the fish must be still deep. Dogknobbler back on, Bob got his first real fish, a nice 1.5lb brown in about 2m of water.

Well, eating, yapping and casting kept us busy for the next few hours while the autopilot Minn Kota pushed and pulled us through the gauntlet of trees. Late afternoon we both lost a fish each, they hit hard and seemed firmly connected, but somehow got off close to the net.  The evening rise was still to come and we hoped it would change our luck. I got a ‘just pan size’ fish to make it three for the day.

Bob had changed to twin wets and got a couple of ‘touches’ while I did get a hit on a two nymph set up, but only a hit. As the sun set in the Tasmanian sky, we made for the boat ramp where we arrived just on dark. You’ve got to be happy, a good feed, a good day in good company, life has its rewarding days.

I hope I have the pleasure of Bob’s company soon.

Helmut

I leave you with a picture of Bob and the sunset that day/night at Arthur’s Lake, Tasmania.

If you would like to contact me for comments or contributions click here: thetroutwhisperer@bigpond.com