Subject: Fishing today, 21Jan09 -- part one
Date: Wednesday, 21 January 2009 12:27 PM
0420 this morning. I was at home in the kitchen having just eaten my weetbix -- breakfast of champions, don't you know. It was still dark outside, I was just putting on sunscreen to keep my youthful looks when I heard the rain start. Bugger, I thought will the others show up?
We expected four starters, Steve, Jaro, Jim and I, but only three of us fronted. Turned out later that Steve had actually put his alarm on for 4.00pm. They're tricky devices these electronic alarms! Anyway, there we three were at the car park with just enough light to see that the surf zone transit would be interesting. We demurred for a while then thought what the hell, doesn't look too bad once you get through. Jim, usually a regular with our little group, was going offshore for the first time in several months after recovering from a push bike prang which left him with a badly broken collarbone and seven broken ribs. he opted to go on the east side of the groyne and Jaro and I headed for the western side.
Middle Groyne, western side, 0515 hrs today. Pic fuzzy because of low light levels. My yak, left, and Jaro's, right.
All three of us got out without difficulty. Certainly Jaro and I were surprised at how easy our transit was. Jim joined us "out the back'" a few minutes later and Jaro welcomed him back to yak fishing with a welcome radio call - very apt, I thought.
By 0534, I was off, setting course for Jew Shoal, some 3.5km distant in the ocean haze to the north. Jaro followed a couple of minutes later and Jim a few minutes after him. The going was OK if a little up and down, as you'd expect, and the breeze was quite finicky, sometimes coming from the west and sometimes from the north. I'd opted to troll a single lure, one which had been on many journeys with me and had hooked an array of pelagics and was now on its third set of hooks. My casting rod was in the rod holder, rigged up with a slug ready to cast to schools of feeding pelagics we happened upon.
By 0600 I was about 500m south of one of my marks at Jew Shoal and heading toward it when I noticed a huge flock of birds on the horizon, perhaps 1 km away. They were bunched very tightly, low on the water and were wheeling around as if they were caught in a whirlwind. I brought this to Jaro's attention, by radio, then pushed on toward the feeding frenzy. By this time the breeze had increased and was coming from the north so we were punching right into it. Jaro was about 100-150m behind and to my left when suddenly my trolling reel, an ancient ABU10000C which I've owned since the 1970s, screamed as line was stripped from the spool in a powerful run. As soon as I picked up the rod I could tell that this fish had a bit of weight in it. This impression was confirmed with another powerful run, toward the west, as Jaro paddled past me about 50m away. At that time I didn't know that Jaro was trolling two outfits but I soon found out because my fish had taken my lure and attached line right across, and under, the path of Jaro's two lures -- he'd travelled past me a minute or so after I'd first hooked up. My heart sank as I put pressure on the fish and found first one, then the second of Jaro's lures running up my line, which was still taut and connected to the strong running fish. Fortunately Jaro slowed and then stopped which made it easier for me to disengage his lures, but he did end up with a bit of a tangle -- always a risk when trolling two lures, I reckon. Thanks for stopping mate, and sorry that my action may have contributed to your line tangle. Anyway back to my fish, which was still full of fight. After several more minutes I got a look at him as he swept under the yak in the clear blue water and powered off again on another strong run. Cripes -- a bloody great Spaniard!
Shortly the fish was tiring, as you would be if you'd been towing me around in my yak, which he had been. For some reason, the best fish always seem to come into gaffing position on my left side, which is not my best for decisively and accurately placing the gaff. This one was no different. He circled on the left side of the yak, thrusting along with that huge powerful tail but eventually I left-hand gaffed him and briefly held his head out of the water to an admiring gasp from Jaro, who was close enough to see the action. It was only when I held him on the gaff that I realised that this was a more substantial fish than any other I'd recently caught. And when I started to drag his body over the side of the yak and into the footwell I realised that this fish would not be an easy fit. My first action was to get his head, with lure firmly clamped between its fiercesome jaws, down to between my feet (glad I wear dive boottees) while I manoeuvred the tail to under my chin. This accomplished, I turned my attention to tail roping the monster, all the time coping with muscular flexing of that magnificent body (the fish's, not mine) as the fish objected to the strange environment in which it found itself. My tail rope secured, I opted to just hold my prize in position while it gradually faded from this life. This took some ten minutes, during which I also tidied up a bit -- you know, untangling things, getting the gaff back into its secure storage location, and getting the rod back into its holder on the back deck, taking a photo with one hand.
This is how it looked from my point of view -- the camera couldn't fit it all in. The gaff can still be seen in the head, and the lure can be seen protruding from the jaws whose teeth would easily take off a finger if you carelessly put it in there.
After ten minutes or so I judged that the mackerel I'd caught was no longer with us and thus safe to handle a little less carefully. With some difficulty in the choppy, rolling, conditions I manoeuvred the fish through 180 degrees into a head to stern direction and, opening the fish box door on my left side, started pushing him in, head first. I'm gonna need a bigger yak, I thought, when he was half way in. Eventually the pointy nose of the fish came up hard against the stern end of the fish box. Shit, there was still 30cm of fish or so to go! I'd earlier decided that, even though there were probably heaps of more fish around, there was no point in continuing to fish and therefore I jury-rigged a new, bigger tie-down for the fish box lid (to secure the fish better in the event of a roll-over coming through the surf) and packed up my gear for the return to the beach.
My journey back was uneventful and in quite pleasant conditions with a following sea and northerly breeze and overcast. And before long I was doing battle with the surf monster on the western side of the groyne, to come up trumps with a nice wave which took me right in to the beach. Yee Ha!
I took great pleasure in dragging the spaniard from the fish box while several early beach goers stood around with lower jaws dragging on the sand. A nice bikini-clad lady on the beach agreed to take my pic with my camera just after landing.
0728hrs, Immediately after landing. Note that the tail rope is still on the fish and is attached to the yak which is out of the pic
On the measure mat. He went just under 1.3m -- probably 12-13kg.
How did Jim and Jaro fare? Part 2 to come later. And I got some video of my pals conquering the surf.
What a wonderful day!
Kev
Red & Yellow Espri, black paddle
VHF channel 09 or 22 (if alone), Call Sign: sunshiner
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