I’ve recently been suffering from a bout of Fish Pox. This is an affliction suffered by even the best of anglers from time to time. 

It can sometimes be induced by not fishing enough, but in this case it was quite the opposite. 

It’s been many years since I’ve suffered bad fishing luck such as this, and I hope I’ve shaken it off, but you just never know with these things. I haven’t killed an albatross, walked under a ladder, nor had a black cat cross my path.

Perhaps the only way to make a complete recovery is to fish more often, for greater reward?

In the past four weeks, I have dragged every lure known to mankind through the blue marlin grounds of the Gold Coast and Fraser Island. I have run slashers, splashers, poppers, divers, slices, dices, skirts, wobblers, plastics and ploppers of every variation of size and colour, all while cruising the magnificent Whitsundays and Hervey Bay. 

Luckily, the coast of Queensland is such a beautiful part of the world that, while I was a bit disappointed and frustrated with my (lack of) angling prowess, I wouldn’t have missed it for all the tea in China. 

My failures had me reflecting on how valuable local knowledge can be. I’m sure there were plenty of fish there, just none with my name indelibly stamped on their foreheads.

It seems you go through stages of bad luck in fishing. The bloke in the other boat or sitting next to you on the pier gets all the action, while you’re left holding an empty net. 

This is where local knowledge and communication really helps and 

if all else fails, hop aboard a local fishing charter to find out where you are going wrong. Tackle shop attendants can be full of helpful information, too – it’s in their best interests for you to succeed and come back for more supplies.

ONE TEAM, ONE DREAM 

Teamwork, with planned objectives, is especially important. At one stage of our Whitsundays trip, I had just finished placing a spread of lures and securing the rods for an anticipated strike from a pelagic speed demon, when a large school of tuna erupted in front of the boat. 

Ripper, we’re in with a chance at last – or so I thought. My captain stopped the boat and wandered down from the flybridge demanding a casting outfit and lure to throw at the erupting surface action. 

“What the hell do you reckon these lures out the back are there for, mate? They aren’t gonna swim on their own!” I bellowed back in my wildest Bear-like tone. 

He returned to the flybridge with his tail between his legs, but I think the torrent of abuse must have scared every fish in the Whitsundays island chain, as we didn’t get another chance. 

We could have taken this failure to heart, if we weren’t having so much fun on some of the most beautiful waters in the world!

PROMISING SETUP

I said goodbye to that motoryacht to instead hunt the blue marlin that were in full swing off the Gold Coast. 

Together with two well-known fishing identities, we had it all - a magnificently fitted-out 51ft gameboat with all of the latest tackle, equipment and electronics, plus a spread of lures worth more than most people’s boat. And all laid out on a picture-perfect day with just enough roll to keep the lures popping and casting an enticing trail. 

There were two other boats nearby and wouldn’t you know it – they both hooked up while we got doughnuts!

I started writing this article while trolling once more for blue marlin on the 150-700m drop-off out from Fraser Island, in yet another attempt to snag some success on a 30ft flybridge cruiser with an experienced captain.  

There were reports of fish everywhere in the preceding days, one boat reporting an impressive 12 shots in a single outing on these big blue beasties. 

On our first day out, we raised three beauties into our trail of lures and teasers, hooking and fighting two of them in gut-wrenching battles that both ended in disappointment for my shipmates. 

BEAR ON STRIKE

It was my turn on strike the next day, and I donned the full harness and rod bucket, full of anticipation. 

We trolled from early morning until mid-afternoon, when an active and inquisitive fish finally appeared in our trail, bill slashing at every morsel in the spread. 

My excitement hit fever pitch as the lit-up billfish swerved from side to side, lunging at every lure and crashing the teasers. 

It smashed our lures for what seemed an eternity – in reality probably only a couple of minutes - but unfortunately the pox struck again and the beautiful fish returned to the depths, untroubled by our hooks.

THE TIDE TURNS

I flew home on Melbourne Cup eve, content with the shenanigans of three weeks’ travels, and having experienced some amazing coastal sights, sounds, flora and fauna. 

I was keen to examine the weather forecast for Cup day, which is traditionally a great start to the Melbourne snapper run. The 30kt squalls were due to drop slightly the next day, with a rising barometer and high tide change at 3.30pm. It smelt like perfect rough-water snapper conditions to me!

I hurriedly prepared the boat and collected gear from all over town. At one stage I almost cancelled the trip, given I was so unprepared. Yet eventually, we launched our trailer boat at Patterson River and punched out through the sizable waves. 

The anchor was finally set on a favourite reef and out went the baits. I was fishing with last season’s lines, traces, knots and hooks, so I had little trust in my gear. Unperturbed, we set the rods and spread some berley. 

As soon as I could get some hooks into a frozen silver whiting bait, out it went. The whiting bait was still mid-water when it was scoffed by an obviously sizable fish that screamed off 150m of line on its first run. 

The fish gave me buggery, but eventually I turned its head on the light drag. It displayed little of the telltale head shakes of a big red snapper. 

I was calling it for a gummy shark or maybe a mulloway due to the strong lunging fight that took me from one side of the boat to another. Meanwhile, my knees were knocking in anticipation, remembering my run of bad luck and poor preparation.

So I screamed in ecstasy when the big crimson and silver flanks of a very large snapper finally rose from the depths! 

As the huge fish saw the boat and its eager occupants, he took a last lunge for life with the drag set even lighter in preparation. Eventually, the big red beastie rose again, exhausted, and my mate Zac was waiting with the landing net.

A 9.5kg snapper slapped onto the deck, while I jumped for joy, hooted and hollered and kissed my mate in the throes of angling utopia. 

A 20lb snapper is truly a lifelong achievement in my waters, and this one went 21lbs. It’s certainly one fish I will remember for a lifetime. 

What’s really amazing is how the failures of past weeks paled into total insignificance with a great capture like this beautiful big red snapper. I turned from a heel to a hero in one totally unprepared outing – let’s hope my luck has returned. It’s certainly not from lack of effort! 

Category: Unknown
Written: Sun 01 Jan 2017
Printed: January, 2017
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