From: "kevin long"
Subject: Fishing today -- 05Dec08 -- one of the best
Date: Friday, 5 December 2008 4:17 PM
It was a bit of a toss-up last night whether a Sunshine Beach launch was viable, so we agreed to meet at the Sunshine Beach Surf Club carpark at 0430 this morning where we could check out conditions and then move on to (a) the more sheltered Middle Groyne or (b) back to bed if the weather proved unsuitable for any launch place. Jaro, Harry, Steve & Charles (a duo), and I were the likely starters. At 0430 all except the duo were at the car park, examining the sea as the ambient light steadily improved with the earth's rotation. We three called it for a "Go" from Sunshine Beach and I agreed to wait a further 5 minutes to see if the absent parties would turn up. When they hadn't shown after a few minutes I followed Jaro and Harry down to the Doggie Beach (the northern end of Sunshine Beach) carpark. Charles & Steven, you missed a great trip.
0451hrs 05Dec08. Jaro waits his chance to pick a gap in the shore break.
Harry got away cleanly followed by Jaro, also cleanly, while I, last to launch, made a bit of a goose of myself by allowing the yak to get caught in the back surge before I was aboard. It was swirled sideways, hit by a small wave and rolled. At this time I was standing thigh deep in the surge, still holding on to the front carry handle. The yak was then hit by a slightly larger wave and pushed violently toward the beach, dragging me to my knees so that I was now chest deep. Fervently hoping that my mates hadn't seen this amateur performance, I scrambled back to the beach, righted the yak, tidied up a little and then went straight back into the fray, this time getting aboard earlier and thus establishing better control at a time when it's needed and getting a clean launch.
We are all GPS equipped and so were each clear to choose an individual destination on the massive Sunshine Reef which extends for many kilometres north-south, with the closest part around 2km from our launch point. On my previous trip out here I'd found, with the sonar, and marked, using GPS, a nice patch of reef only 1.7km east of the beach. I headed for that while my fishing mates departed for who knows where, but much further out than I.
As I paddled toward my mark I watched the sonar display the depth. About 1.4km out it was 27m and then suddenly the water started to become shallower, and right on target, the unmistakeable lumps and bumps of reef started to show up on the sonar, with a depth of around 20-24m. By this time, Jaro and Harry were out of sight to the east but I opted to stick with my plan, figuring that I may as well start fishing here as I really wanted to find out how this patch of reef, relatively close to shore, ticked.
I deployed a large whole fish bait on a "Spaniard Special" on the heavy trailing outfit and then fished with my second outfit, in the usual reef fashion, with a soft plastic and 1/4oz jig head (heavier than my usual 1/8oz for the greater depth). I'd just settled down into my routine when local kayak fishing identity Bill Watson hove into view, paddling directly toward me from the north. He'd presumably launched at his usual spot on Main Beach in the dark and by now had already been paddling for at least one hour. We exchanged greetings and on he went. Now there were four kayak fishermen out here and only one power boat.
Before long, the GPS revealed that I was drifting quite rapidly (~1kph at least) toward the south, and this despite a 5 knot SE breeze. As a consequence of this combination of current and breeze, the 1/4oz jig head was staying down near the bottom much longer than if there were no current so I happily took advantage of this situation, just drifting along and enjoying the scenery. On about my third cast and about 30 minutes after starting to fish I had a sudden strike on the jig and the yak was forcibly rotated by the fish as it surged off against the drag. This felt like a good snapper and I was just settling in to the struggle when the line went slack. The jig was gone -- possibly as a result of a faulty knot or abrasion by the teeth of the snapper. Anyway, that happens a lot in fishing. I re-rigged and continued. Then, my Spaniard Special on the trailing outfit snagged up. I busted it off and decided to rerig that outfit with a 1/2oz jig head and the same sort of soft plastic as on my casting outfit.
By now I'd drifted around 1km from my original mark so I opted to return and do the drift again, with better knowledge now of prevailing current. To do this I needed to paddle north and in doing so the strength of the current was made more obvious because I was making barely 5kph over the ground whereas I normally can easily sustain 6kph in neutral water. By 0645-ish I was back at the start of my intended drift. I deployed both outfits in the usual way and pondered the possibility that today was going to be fishless, as I'd only had one strike so far and had been unable to attract even a tiny reefie. My reverie was rudely interrupted by the scream of the ratchet of the trailing outfit. With the casting outfit in my right hand, I reached around behind me with my left, picked up the other rod and struck at the fish which was desperately trying to take the rod and reel with him into Davy Jones' Locker. So now I had this fish firmly hooked, signalled by the strong runs and surges transmitted through the rod. I then became aware that the rod in my right hand was also coming under pressure. Uh oh, double hook-up! Although my little kayak is quite well set up I had some difficulty getting the rod in my right hand securely into a rod holder while I dealt with the other, first strike fish, whose rod was still desperately grasped in my left hand. Having at last secured the second rod, I settled in to fighting the fish on the first and soon up popped a solid snapper, which was hurriedly gaffed and dropped into the footwell where my feet held it down. I could now turn my attention to the other rod, whose hooked fish had cooperatively chosen to take the line out away from the other fish. So soon, again, another solid snapper dropped into the footwell. My score had gone from zero to two in five minutes.
A successful outcome of a double hook up -- two different rods. Note that both fish were taken on the same type of soft plastic.
Jaro had been asking me by radio how things were going and before this capture I'd expressed optimism that this reef area would produce fish. So now it was with great pleasure that I called him up and told him that I'd found The Spot, caught two snapper, and what's more I'd marked it on the GPS, yet another action I'd been taking while fighting two fish simultaneously. Who said men can't handle multi tasking? Jaro, still fishless, quite reasonably opted to head for my position. As I'd drifted several hundred metres from the place of first hook up until I was all tidied up with fish photographed, stowed etc I offered Jaro the opportunity of following me to my new mark and again he accepted.
Having arrived at the new mark, Jaro now marked the spot on his GPS and we started another drift quite close together. Shortly afterward, I got another strike and, before Jaro's eyes, fought and boated another fat snapper. Jaro's blood was now up. And shortly afterward he hooked a fish which stripped a lot of line off against the drag but then self-released without being sighted. Oh, the language!
A somewhat bloodied snapper, number three of the morning for me. 0736 hrs.
Harry, meanwhile, still out of sight to the east reported by radio that he'd caught and released an undersize Maori Cod and shortly afterward a 50cm mac tuna (a very small tuna by our standards). This latter was destined to be cut up as bait as Harry, at this stage, was still a devotee of the use of flesh bait, rather than artificial bait, which Jaro and I were using.
Boaties (this includes kayakers) out at Sunshine Reef in the early morning have a splendid view of the nearby coastline. To the east and north there is nothing but ocean, next stop South America. To the west, however, the village of Sunshine Beach nestles in the morning sun on the southern fringe of the Noosa National Park. See what I mean:
Above, Jaro, still fishless and still smiling at 0844 this morning, 2km off Sunshine Beach, the beach and village in the background.
Below, Harry at 0848 this morning, also fishless, who'd opted to join Jaro and me on our secret drift.
Enough of views, back to the fishing. As noted above, Harry had joined us shortly after 0830, not long after I'd boated a fourth snapper. Now it was Jaro's turn. His customary YYYEEESSS, announced a hookup. I watched with pleasure as he boated a nice fat snapper. It seemed that he'd only just got that fish bagged when he also got a double hookup. He rightly set about dominating the fish on his trailing rig first as it was giving him considerable curry. And shortly afterward he boated a BEWDY! in his words. I could see from my vantage point around 100 metres away that it was indeed a good fish. He then turned his attention to his other outfit, boated the snapper on it and then magnanimously released it on the basis that it was not quite the size he was after (although of legal length).
It was about now that Harry, still fishing with bait and fishless, took the pledge. He ceremonially tossed his pilchards and mac tuna fillets away exclaiming that he was never going to use flesh bait again. He then withdrew from some dark corner of his yak a packet of soft plastics, blessed them and started impaling them on jig hooks. Will Harry now catch a fish? Read on.
Shortly afterward Jaro was in again. He now had three snapper, one of which was pretty big, in his bag. Harry comes up on the radio, announcing that the soft plastics have changed his life and that unfortunately he needs gaffing practice as the snapper he hooked immediately after switching to soft plastics (SPs) released itself yak-side. Jaro and I feel for him. But all was not lost. Again Harry comes up on the radio announcing the capture of a decent snapper. These SPs work, eh?
Jaro bags a fourth snapper. Now Jaro and I have four each, and have dropped a couple and Harry has a nice keeper. Time to turn for home and to face up to the Sunshine Beach shore break, which gets pretty fierce at times. We paddle in together, while talking on the radio with Steve, a Sunshine Beach resident and one of our regular kayak fishos, just flown in on the overnight flight from Singapore. He goes down to the beach to guide us to the best landing spots, which are best viewed from the beach side as the nuances of the waves are difficult to read from the ocean side. Harry goes in first and does a great job. Steps out onto the sand with dry feet. My turn now. I'm an old hand at this and I know this shore break well. Even so, everything is stowed and strapped down. I pick a wave, let it slide under me, then go like a scalded cat for the beach, Steve and Harry watching carefully, hoping to pick up a few pointers on beach entry methods. They do, I get clobbered by a following wave and end up in the drink. No harm is done and I drag my bedraggled carcass and my yak up the beach. Jaro is sitting out the back watching all this but finally starts his run. We three stand on the beach with cameras ready. He does a great job, allowing the yak to gently broach on a small wave then stepping out into knee deep water on the ocean side of the yak just before the next wave hits.
We measure and photograph the fish and agree: what a great day.
Above, Harry's snapper, just over 53cm.
Below, my take home catch.
Above, Jaro caught the best fish of the day. A very fat 62cm snapper.
Below, the three of us, from left, Harry, me, Jaro, display our respective catches. On Sunshine Beach, with National Park in the background. Wow!
Thanks for organizing, Jaro. Let's go again soon.
Kev
Red & Yellow Espri, black paddle
VHF channel 09 or 22 (if alone), Call Sign: sunshiner
