February 2005
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Picture #4
Picture #5
Picture #6
Picture #7
… and tomorrow we’re expecting winds light to variable up to 10 knots the TV weatherman said. It was Sunday night the 20th of February and I hadn’t bee out all February. I called Donger “are you free for tomorrow?” “ NO, I’ve been waiting for your call for the last few weeks” he said. He must have the onset of Alzheimer's I thought. The last few weeks were nothing but small craft alerts, fallen trees, power outages and weather you wouldn’t send the dog outside in for a crap. Fishing had just not been on the menu.
A window of opportunity just opened up which I just could not miss, I had to go and to be going by myself was not the biggest sacrifice I’ll ever made. Nothing wrong with spending a few hours solo in Gods own country.
Next morning just after 06.00 hrs I called Brendan from the local Met bureau. It took a while before he answered the phone. “Hey how’s things, have you been on the sanitary throne?” ”NO, but your phone ring has just been heard by thousands of ABC radio listeners in Tasmania” he said. “I’ve just given the early morning radio forecast” - Oops.
“TV last night predicted light to ‘variable-10’” I said, “what do YOU say?” “Light to ‘variable-10’” he said. “What direction?” “Easterly”. Could I miss a light to variable easterly? Not on your Sweet Nellie.
I pulled out about 09.30hr and went to Arthur’s Lake – again. On the way another road kill, Picture #1 this time less furry than normal, just a reminder of the bush danger, to which I allured extensively in my book in chapter VII. Last month four people were bitten in Tasmania by a tiger snake, three were handlers and one was an unfortunate ‘female person’ or ‘woman of the female gender’. (Haven’t we gone completely stupid with this political correctness?).
Arthur’s was like a mirror, conditions I don’t quite favour specially if you can see for ‘miles’ and there is no rise to be seen for ‘miles’.
First I stopped at a foam patch hoping a dun would bring up a fish or two but they had other ideas, maybe there was no food left in the foam or they picked the best bits out at the dawn breakfast. (Picture #2 & #3)
Today I fished with a handicap; my electric motor (cyclops) was in ‘hospital’. He had developed a fault in the auto pilot mode and would not compensate for wind, drift or other variables, towards the Port side. So rather than not going fishing at all, I decided to go without my ‘best associate’. Don’t know how I ever could have done without Cyclops.
After giving ‘tutra’ ample opportunity to take my dun I moved into another bay. A fish was rising just out of casting range, my casting range that is. I nevertheless ‘had a go at him’ and with double hauling the line I ‘let him have it’. Luck was on my side because the cast landed nicely and softly. He must have come up my way anyway because big rings indicated that I passed the ‘close inspection test’. He liked what he saw and what he had seen was my ExP2. (See The Trout Whisperers Fly Box # 3).
He went deep and put all his weight to good use, but not good enough.
Picture #4
One on board, it started to look good. Investigation of his stomach showed – gum beetles. Well gum beetles are fine; if they take them on top it is even more exciting. It was not long when another fish rose just out of casting range to the port side. The fly landed short but again he must have been coming my way or seen the fly drop. He took the ExP2 with gusto and the outcome was the same, two fish in the boat is better than one in the lake I’d say or is it two birds in the bush is better than one fish in the hand? Whatever! Both fish were about 2lb each.
Trout started to rise more frequently but this time I just could not reach them. I started the Yamaha up to get myself into casting position, but the big motor exhaust put them down. Going up wind and drifting toward them did not work – there was no wind and no drift.
It looked carefully at the water, black ants! They were taking black ants. Having a bet each way, I changed the shaving brush with a black ant and left the ExP2 at the point.
Frustrating when fish rise just out of casting range I needed ‘Cyclops’ to sneak up on them. Well, Brendan, where was that variable ‘10-knotter’?
If at first you don’t succeed, cheat or go and fish elsewhere! – This boy doesn’t give up easily but after another hour or so I came to the end of my cheating expertise and went 3km elsewhere into a big weedy bay.
Gum trees girthed the shoreline and in the calm warm conditions they must have had ‘crash landing on the water’ lessons. There were approximately 10,728,357 gum beetles in two possible poses on the water, face down or face up. I wasn’t going to Compete with 10.7 million gum beetles? Not on your Sweet Nelly, who is this Nelly bird anyway?
I had the feeling that the fish were feeding on top but were just too chockers with beetles to take one more. Occasionally it seemed a fish must have opened the rear ‘wast disposal valve’ to make room for one more ‘gumy’ and went back down to digest the next in line. Well, they need all they can digest with the procreation months not too fare away.
You might have seen Sir David Attenborough’s documentary showing crocs lying in the river watching thousands of wilder beasts crossing, and they are so stuffed with meat that they can’t bite off another leg.
That’s the way I saw it or that’s the way I wanted it to be. Maybe I could tempt one with a change of diet, a dun perhaps? Or should I go deep to see if I could tempt them with a wet being stripped across their nose and appeal to their ‘chasing things instinct’? This had been proven successful at other occasions so I tried both for an hour but they just could not be bothered. Another elsewhere, this time away from the big hatch where food was not so abandoned, surely some fish must be hungry elsewhere in this lake.
Brendan’s ‘variable-10’ had finally arrived and a gentle drift along a line of dead trees got me number 3 a nice 2lb-er that took me down into the weeds but finally conceded defeat. The fish had taken a dry which I had tied to imitate a dry Donger kindly had given me. A bright orange body with a black hackle and a golden pheasant tail - simple, but effective. (Picture #5).
This fish too was ‘beetled up’.
By now it was time to get the night position. (Picture #6) On a lake like Arthur’s with dead tree stumps lurking only Centimetres under the water you don’t take chances going home in the dark, driving lights or not, you can’t see them, but you can hear them as they collide with the engine leg. I have an extreme dislike sitting on a weekday in a boat with half an engine leg, trying to radio, phone or light flares when there is nobody about for ‘miles’ that could assist. Call me a sissy if you like but I prefer a warm bed.
By now the ‘variable-10’ had turned easterly – ‘on ye’ Brendan - and not having ‘cyclops’ it was best to find an easy shoreline where I just could drift without having to worry about my backcast or rocks.
As it happens the southern end of Brazendale Island gave me a parallel drift to the shoreline as the sun sets (picture #7). The ripple on the water was very forgiving and I could see the tails and dorsal fins as the fish were ‘mopping up’ their tucker and cramping the last bit in before going to bed. This was the ‘cherry on top of the ‘cream on top of the cake fishing’.
The fish were eager and determined and when the ‘variable - 10’ died down and visibility was down to: “I can’t see my boat, but I’m standing in it”, I had another 3 nice fish on board. Six fish for the day, between 2 and 2 ¼ lb each, in excellent condition, all caught on the dry and all by casting to a rising fish, it was one of those rewarding days.
The pump house lights were clearly visible in the distance and it took only a few minutes to reach the 5km to the boat ramp. It was yet another day in God’s own country and I felt privileged to have been there.
You need only two tools. WD-40 and duct tape. If it doesn't move, and it should, use WD-40. If it moves and shouldn't, use duct tape
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