January 2006

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All bad things must come to an end, and it looked like January the 5^th was that day, with light winds forecast.

I left two hours earlier than I normally do, to make up for lost opportunities.

It was good to get up there and feel the wind blowing through your hair, unless you are follicle challenged (bald - or soon to be) as I am.

The lake level had risen as a result of one of the wettest years on record and as a result, some of the trailer parking area was now under water. This time of year the lake level should be down, the water warm, the weed beds well established the flylife abundant and the fish stuffing themselves ferociously with dry flies.   

But, that slight breeze, which hugged my sacred follicles, was ‘nippy’ to say the least, the water was icy, the weed beds absent, the fly life non existing and fish nowhere to be seen. This was not the screenplay I had wished for and was not a good start for the New Year, and the day. The water was still cloudy from the recent isobar jamming so the fast sinking line was the line of choice – still or should I say again?

In January, mid summer, the fast sinking line is sometimes appropriate, because the fish are deep down to escape the warm surface water, but today they were deep down due to lack of surface food or so I figured.

If I thought it would have been a ‘gum beetle day’ or a ‘dun day’ I was mistaken, it was not going to be a ‘skill day’, it would be a ‘flogging day’.

A slight SE made my mind up where I wanted to fish and as I hurried across the open water a massive tree trunk floated to an unknown destination, looking like a monstrous saltwater crocodile lurking in the water. Caution is your friend here, and it was well to keep this in mind on the return trip after dusk. 

The gale force winds of the past weeks left their tell tale behind, and had snapped many of the dead trees picture #1

Some had made it all the way into the shore picture #2, others were still thinking about it.

picture #3 

In some exposed places weed beds had been uplifted and thrown into the dead trees picture #4 and have left many a little critters, living in them, on the homeless list.

All in all it looked like the lake got a real pounding.

 The first line peeled onto the water about 10.00 am.

Despite my gloomy prognosis within half an hour I hit the first fish and a good one at that. I got a glimpse of his shiny belly, as he shot up from the depth as my leader approached the boat, hit the fly hard, rolled over and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, no hook-up. Well, that was promising never-the-less. Two more fish followed the fly in and the next one was hooked. It was a soft take and luckily he was in the net when I realized that the nymph/hook had come out of his mouth. All this in the first hour, could it get worst? YES!  

The breeze changed to 5kn northerly and the fish seem to be less interested now. I searched far and wide for the next six hours but to no avail. In all that time I must have seen 5 gum beetles and twice I saw a fish rolling to the surface to take some top food, which I presumed to be a ‘gumie’. The first time I was ‘zonkering’ and was in casting distance of the fish, and quickly offered him the ‘zonker’ which he promptly ignored.  

An hour or so later, when another fish rose, I decided to take the dry fly armaments out, but after an hour of offerings and no takers reverted back to a well proven ‘double barrel’ twin wet fly combination.

As the evening approached and the sun began to set, the warm clothes came back on. One fish hit the nymph, but felt the fly line and quickly changed his mind.

The sky displayed ominous signs of gloom picture #5 but held on long enough to be once again in awe of the beautiful heavens. picture #6 

Finally, 9hrs and 2000 casts later, after having bagged the first fish, the second one came into the net. Like the first one, it was just a fish (1 ½ lb) and like the first one his stomach was void of any tucker. It looked like he hadn’t had a decent feed for days.  

I had crisscrossed the lake and clocked up 28.5 km on the boats trip meter, it was time to go home not quite ‘blank’ but it felt a lot like it. A few ‘boaties’ were still trawling out there in the dark trying to make the best of the one day which allowed us to get safely onto the water. Because the very next day it was on again, the wind that is.

The 10^th of January was a favourable day wind wise that is and if you have fishing in mind.

Michael and I settled quickly into a bay and started fishing around noon. Temperatures were really up to dun hatching standard, but nobody told the duns. As on the previous trip, no surface food was to be had, except for the sporadic gum beetle - very occasional gum beetle that is. It meant the fish weren’t looking up. So the flogging or self mutilation continued.

It reminded me of one of my favourite office posters:  

And flogging, what flogging it was. Late in the afternoon, on a lee shoreline black spinners started to hatch, finally the flogging came to an end. Even if the fish appeared ‘tiddlers’ it was a welcome break from pounding the sinking line.

Just as I explained the life cycle of spinners to Michael, he looked up and pointed out that both my flies had submerged. Too late, by the time I straightened the line, it was all over – rover. The first strike for the day and I’d lost it.  

The occasional rise still kept our interest going and out of nowhere a fish took one of  my flies, or so I thought. As I straightened the rod, he took off like a proverbial steam train and in no time showed me what he was made off. Two cartwheels and I could see the stuffhe was made off, I also could see the backing coming up on my reel. Luckily he fancied his escape into the open lake instead of the trees. Just in case he changed his mind, I turned ‘cyclops’ around and followed him. First I couldn’t quite understand how he managed to pull that much line out and resisted any attempt to pump him in. The only logical explanation was that he was false hooked.

And sure enough, after, what seemed to be 10 min of straining tippet, leader and knots, he succumbed and as Picture #7shows he somehow managed to get himself hooked on top of the dorsal fin, leaving him all his manoeuvrability and power to fight.

He was just short of 3lb picture #8.

As it happened, the only fish of the day, which made him more than welcome on board.

 The 17^th of January was another promising day and again Michael and I took the opportunity to fill up the deep freezer. That was the plan anyway.  

The wind was not the ‘light and variable’ as we were promised before we left, but a stiff northerly breeze or 15 kn with white horses riding the waves. We quickly cut across to the south side of the islands, expecting a dun or two or some black spinners or gum beetle.  

The temperatures had risen over the last few days as a result of the summer having finally come to Tasmania probably on Friday between 11.30 and 15.14 hrs.

I was determined to fish dry no matter what. So a tandem dun and a gum beetle imitation was the first choice. The dry fly artillery is so much kinder to the back, arms and wrist but puts more stain on the eyes, as concentration is vital.  

We searched for the illusive fish while ‘cyclops’ kept us in about 2m water depth. This allowed us to cast into the shallows to port, 2m dead ahead and 3m depth to starboard.  As we ever so slowly moved along close to the shore line. We saw a fish working within a meter from the shoreline. He was taking black spinners and was a repetitive feeder. In the excitement I misjudged the distance and lined him, only with the leader mind you but that was the end of that.  

The next fish took the dry and straightened the line, but got off. Did I lift too quickly? – not!

The next fish took the dry and straightened the line, but got off. Did I lift too slowly? – not! 

The next fish took the dry and straightened the line, but got off. Did I lift too quickly? – not!

The next fish took the dry and straightened the line, but got off. Did I lift too slowly? – not! 

NO, this is not a literary speech impediment!

Not one, not two, not three, but four fish lost on the dry. That’s enough to bite into your own bum, but flexibility is a problem at the best of times, specially at my age.  

All were good size fish, because all were long enough on the hook for me to ‘feel’ their size.

It was time to change tactics.

Evening approached and the floating line and the ‘ole’ nymph was called to be on duty.

 By the time we decided to call it a day, two fish were on board, ah, the ‘ole’ nymph seldom fails. More about nymph ‘take away’ is in my book.

Summer really came in the last week of January. It got so hot that at 15.58hrs I put on some shorts, just kidding. Temperatures were recorded 15⁰C above normal and reached 40⁰C.

The eve before Australia day the TV weather indicated variable 10. That’s my kind of weather forecast. All was set for a trip for two. 

Caution is your friend, and pre- Caution is his brother. So the first call before breakfast goes to Brendan at the weather bureau.

At 08.21hrs the remote station at Liaweene already read 18 kts gusting 24 kts ‘and it is not going to improve’. So Australia day here we come – NOT. 

Garden work and tennis what a penalty as the northerly freshened up to 35 kts or more and by evening the sky was hazy from the Victorian Bush fires some 400 km away. picture #9

It creates beautiful yet eerie sunsets picture #10 of the kind you might see in winter when back-burning is in vogue.

Well, the deep freezer remains vacant. Hopefully February will change all that.

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