March 2^nd was the day to be up at the lakes. Arthur’s here we come. Wise from the last two trips we went later in the day and did not hit the water until 14.30 hrs. That was sensible as it turned out. Not a fish in cooee.

Time-out to test drive the NIKON D70s Picture #1 and Picture #2.  

The day was beautiful, a gentle breeze at first and an opportunity to poke around in this bay and that, cruising along various shores.

Again, as a result of the last days fishing in February, there was no point in using the dry so the wet with a sinking bead head nymph at the point and a cat fur fly above it were my flies of choice. Some people might wonder what logic it is to have a small nymph chasing a cat fur fly 3 times its size.

You are assuming that fish have logic, WRONG, fish have instinct, maybe, but can not logically think, otherwise one would never catch one.

Not long after I started to fish, I had a good tug near a tree stump. Well that was a good omen, I gave the position a little rest and cast back again, this time the other side of the tree and was rewarded with a good boil. Out came the dry fly, but the fish couldn’t care less about it.  

Unfortunately that was the highlight for the next 4 hrs. The northerly breeze persisted and after having canvassed all last week’s haunts, it was back at the south side of Brazendale Island. Towards eight o’clock a few fish broke the surface, mopping up whatever there was on scarce surface food. Two fish of about 2 lb each, one on the nymph the other on the cat fur fly came on board – empty stomach.  

Several boils and a couple of tiddlers which were returned saw us through for the day. Picture #3

 I was desperate to get another days fishing in, knowing that the Commonwealth Games were starting soon. Hell, one’s got to cheer the team. Every TV viewer counts, right?  

The general consent backed up my own experience; Arthur’s Lake was not fishing very well and had not been for months. Some would go as far as to say that it was the worst season ever. I thought last season was the worst ever, but it looked like this “worst ever” record was going to be broken in 2006. It got much more ‘worserer’. I wondered how much more ‘worserer’ it would be next year. If it got worst than more ‘worserer’ we might as well eat meat until it got much more ‘betterer’.  

The plan was to fish Wednesday 8^th of March Little Pine Lagoon one of Tasmania’s best known prime fly fishing lakes; restricted to fly fishing only - Bag limit 5.  

Reports had it that the black spinners were abundant but fish were not taking them.

Fish wet and about one meter deep, my mate ‘MH’ told me, ‘I bagged out’ he said ‘and they were all good fish’.  

Well we were going to meet up at Little Pine Lagoon with two boats, but checking the weather report and the small craft alert. Picture #4 I wasn’t a glutton for punishment. And since I have the luxury to be selective, I chickened out.  

As it turned out Tuesday the 7^th was a rough old day leading right into Wednesday. That night I received a phone call from ‘MH’. White caps greeted them upon their arrival and amongst snow bearing clouds they called it quits after only an hours fishing and went back to Arthur’s. Although somewhat sheltered, they abandoned fishing altogether early afternoon as the wind relentlessly kept pounding them. Good choice Whisperer I thought.

I have said it before, and I say it again, I fish if the weather is shitty and the fish are biting, I fish if the weather is good and the fish are not biting, but I refuse to fish if the weather is shitty and the fish are not biting. This was one of those occasions. 

The deep freezer had still vacancies for the winter provisions and with the Commonwealths Games starting next week I suffered some self-inflicted panic attacks. 

Still, not one for making the wrong decision I called Brendan the weather guru at 07.00 hr on Wednesday morning and there was no good news. One cold front chasing the next allowing only a few hours relief where the wind would drop to 10 kt at dusk and dawn on Thursday, only to take it’s revenge for the next few days, well into the weekend and beyond. So, reluctantly, I unhooked the boat and put the 4WD back into the garage.

Come Friday morning I had that urge again, you know that midlife crisis feeling, when you think if I don’t go fishing today I’ll die. Women have that same feeling only, ‘if I don’t get a new pair of shoes today I’ll die.

At 08.00 I conferred with Brendan, and the news was good. I pulled out at 09.30 hrs, complete with sandwiches and painted with sunscreen lotion.

Little Pine Lagoon is an extra 30 km or 30 min drive from Arthur’s. I fished it twice before, 25 years ago (and that is another story for another day – campfire chat?) and 8 years ago.  

Little Pine Lagoon is an open water, meaning there no sheltered or tree lined shores. Picture #5 Unlike Arthur’s it is mostly shallow, as the name lagoon implies except where the old river bed was. Picture #6 It is full with weed and not very deep as the Picture of the depth sounder shows. Picture #7

Weed is good for the fish, they’ve got something to hide in, but bad for Cyclops as I soon found out  Picture #8.

Weed is good for the fish, they’ve got plenty of food, but bad for the fly fisher, as the fish will dive down deep into the weed and a 4 lb trout can bring a 10 lb weed bed with it and you better have a tippet to allow for it.

Weed is good for fish but bad for the flies, as after every cast you need to clean the weed of the flies. Picture #9 

I could not have picked a better day, weather wise, and soon got on with fishing. I was warned that the water was ‘latté’ as Picture #8 shows so the flies needed to be big and fuzzy. I figured if fish can’t see them, they have to ‘hear’ them going past.

 The grassy shorelines of the Lagoon are ideally suited for shore based fly fishing, given the fly fisher plenty of casting room and easy walking. For some reason or another, I was the only fly fisher on the lagoon. No boat, no shore based fly fisher I could see through the binoculars. Maybe everybody knew something I didn’t know and it took me two hours to find out – the fish weren’t biting.

You have two choices in life, you can deal with the situation or you can wallow in self-pity. Bye-Bye Lagoon Picture #10 I had to go past Arthur’s pump house by 200m on the way home, so there were two options, either catch no fish in Little Pine or catch no fish in Arthur’s.

I decided to go to Arthur’s and ‘do something about it’. I figured if I catch nothing at Arthur’s it was because of the fish, and not because of lack of local knowledge at Little Pine Lagoon. The first line rolled out at about 15.00hrs at the south end of Brazendale Island. Ultra fast sinking and deep, very deep. Very deep means also you pay the ultimate price. Two snags, two tippets and four flies later, I had my first fish though, a nice 2 pounder but it appeared he was not taking the fly deep down but close to the surface. Another fish followed in and yet another fish aggressively tackled the fly, all this close to the top. I changed to the floating line with the weighted nymph and the cat fur fly, which was still attached from the previous outing.

Hugging the shoreline, I maintained a water depth under the boat of about 2m and cast alternatively either side of the boat. The wind freshened a bit and it was time to put a wind cheater on. What to do with the fly-line? Wind it in? – Na, leave it in the boat? – NA, cast it out and let if drift? – Yea. No sooner had I laid the line on the water and bent down to grab my jacket, the reel started to un-spool at great knots.

A nice 2 ½ lb fish taken the nymph and for once the hook had done it’s job. As a matter of routine I had loosened the brake before laying the rod down, otherwise the rod would have gone overboard. No I’m not kidding, last time this happened to me, when I still had my Zodiac; I had tied up to a tree to have some tucker. The rod was lying on the floor but the tip with the fly was hanging overboard next to the engine. Just when I closed the lunchbox, the rod and reel disappeared overboard. I just managed to lunge myself to the back, and put my arm up to my elbow in the water to grab the sinking rod. A nice 2 lb brown had taken my woolly bugger II and nearly cost me a few hundred bucks in rod, reel and line. I learned my lesson then, and have never forgotten it.

At the end of a 2km drift, I had five nice fish in the boat, ranging from 2lb to 2 ¾ lb. Picture # 11. All fish had a minimal amount of food in their stomach.  

A quick and desperate trip to Arthur’s on March 15^th yielded just one fish, but a nice fish. Picture #12 As the Melbourne tram was lowered into the MCG arena at the Commonwealth Games I was coming down the mountain at Poatina.  So, Commonwealth Games, here we come.  

Well at the beginning of week two of the Games there this massive high coming across the big bay.  This was not to be missed, Games or not Games.  

I teamed up with Steve (13) and we decided to fish Lake St Clair.

(Picture #14, Picture #15, Picture #16)

Lake St Clair is a natural lake with a minimal rock dam only 50m wide and about 3m high, which raises the natural lake level by about a meter. The lake is at it’s deepest over 200m with beautiful steep shorelines and clear water, which allows you to see beer cans 4m deep. (How I hate this eco terrorism).

We arrived Monday morning and were ready to launch the boat just about 11o’clock LSC time. Lake St Clair is a beautiful location and not surprisingly listed as a World Heritage Area.   

I fished this lake once before and was enchanted by its beauty. Last time we were a party of 4 (two boats) and in 80 man/hours of fishing caught 4 fish in total.

So the lake has its challenges to put is politely. To put it impolitely, Lake St Clair can be a real bastard. None the less, we were determined to erase the bad memory, especially since Steve had fished this lake for the last 20 yrs up to six times a season and knew all the tricks in the book; Steve is considered the Guru  of Lake St Claire.

As the Monday afternoon progressed, fish started to get active, feeding on black spinners but they just seem to be tiddlers.

When Steve took the first fish on a black spinner, I laid my cast on the water and grabbed the camera to take Pictures  When I looked up, a fish had taken my dun and pulled it under, only to spit it out. That was one gone. As Steve contacted the second fish, I laid my cast on the water to take the net for him, yes you guessed it, and a fish took my dun and spat it out. That was two down and that was pretty much the end of the hatch. We fished until sunset  but could not improve on our score. Well there was always tomorrow. 

Tomorrow [Tuesday] saw us at ‘sparrows fart’ on the water. Fog gave the lake the eeriness of an Alfred Hitchcock movie and the otherwise beautiful scenery was even more spectacular. 

Picture #22, Picture #23 Picture #24 

The plan – you must have a plan – was to look out for wind lanes and stalk the rainbows feeding on smut. As it turned out, this was easier said than done. We found the wind lanes alright, we found [some] rainbows, but they had other plans. Fish [rainbows] were only occasionally poking their dorsal fin ever so gently [2mm] through the surface. It appeared that they were taking something 100mm under the top. It was just about impossible to predict which way they were going, and despite out best effort – a fly 2m either side of them – they couldn’t care less. Duns were sitting like little sail boats on the water, enjoying immunity from fish.

Come lunchtime, we decided to go for a run and enjoy the spectacular scenery of the northern part of the lake. Picture #28 After an hour or two we returned back to the Basin where we found again fish rising occasionally and intermittently. Steve took a fish while briefly polaroiding from shore.  

We needed more than “all the tricks in the book”, the book had some blank pages which somebody needs to fill in, by the looks of it, this somebody wasn’t us. By nightfall we were Steve one - Trout Whisperer nil.

When we launched the boat before dawn on Wednesday morning, that bloody sparrow was farting again. No fog today, but it was a re-run of the day before. Wind lanes yes, fish no.  

Plan B – you must have plan B.

Again, you have two choices in life, you can deal with the situation or you can wallow in self-pity. After 70 man/hours and 60km travel on water and 331 km on roads over two days we finished up with three brown about 1¾ lb each. Plan B, here we come.  

We had to go past Arthur’s pump house by 200m on the way home, so there were two options, either catch no fish in Lake St Clare or catch no fish in Arthur’s.

déjà vu all over again?  

So after Wednesday morning’s disappointment we left and headed to Arthur’s.

Arthur’s is my haunt and we soon found fish. Not all of them worth taking but at least we caught some – and released the small ones. Fish followed the flies in and on several occasions hit hard without being hooked. Funny that, it is so easy to lodge a hook on your jumper, jacket, ear or finger, but the fish seem to have a knack not to get caught if they bite in a fly.  

At days end we finished up with 9 fish, the biggest was a superb beautiful 4 ½ lb brown, which Steve got. Picture #30 and Picture #31

Still a hard days fishing but in 16 man/hours we got more fish in Arthur’s than in 70 man/hours at Lake St Clair. The total bag for the trip, 9 fish. Picture #32