MID COAST BAPTISM

by Kurt Edwards

I made my way down the chute which is at a fair angle but figured if need be I could scuttle back up quick time and get clear. As it was the water slopped over the edge and I lifted the rod. Not this time. I looked back down the ledge and checked the swell. It was still ok. Another slop and I tried again. The fish balanced precariously on the edge before dropping down into the water. I thought if only I could get the right wave. At that moment I saw one pop up about 10m from the bottom of the chute where I was standing. The wave was coming in low but fast. I had a split second to make the decision get out of there but I made the wrong choice, hesitated and looked back at the fish which had just been picked up by the wave. I only had time to get one step up the chute not the five or six that would have seen me over the top and in relative safety. The wave took me from behind and pushed me forward. I reached out and struggled for a hand hold. By this stage the water had got the better of me, although I had a hand hold my feet were no longer grounded. I watched as the water raced up to the top of the chute and then pull back, accelerating down on me with the angle of the rock. It came back and hit me about four feet deep with more momentum than I cared to think about. I had just let go of the rod and hung on with both hands. No chance; the water pulled me over the edge without checking. I swam down and got clear surfacing about twenty feet from the ledge. A safe enough distance but I wanted a little more so floating on my back I took three or four strokes in a sort of an inverted breast stroke.

It was about this time that the gravity of the situation dawned on me. I still had movement in all my limbs my breathing was fine. I figured I was doing well considering I had just run down the cheese grater. I saw movement on the rock as the other two anglers saw me and yelled out to Shad. It seemed that he knew what was going on so there wasn’t much point in me yelling out and carrying on. I had a couple of minutes to asses the situation. My first concern was the current. A set had come in and I was getting pulled around a bit but it wasn’t strong enough to present a problem.

At that point I realised that I had the rod in my hand. With absolute clarity I recall having a bit of a chuckle thinking if this all turned to sh#t I must still have had some reflex. I had grabbed the rod while I was under. Looking after the gear first in the most dire of circumstance. It might make a good story for Shad to tell my old man before he broke the news. I looked back up at the ledge thinking it appeared quite different from this angle and for the first time thought “You’re in a bit of a situation here chap. How’s this one going to work out?” Escape plan, I had two options. Option one; try and get out where I went in. Option two; swim a couple of k’s around the two points to the north in some seriously shark infested water with failing light no doubt bleeding profusely from numerous abrasions. I opted for the former.

Shad had just got to the point on the ledge closest to me and was feeding out the gaff. It looked far too short. I yelled to him to get a rope and set about getting in a bit closer. At this stage I had to let the rod go to use both arms to swim, I said my goodbyes and let it sink. With the Mac still attached and bleeding from the gill it wasn’t a hard decision. I managed to get in closer to the ledge and Shad had got back with the rope. I picked a wave and powered in as it washed up. I grabbed a hold with both hands. Shad didn’t bother throwing the rope it was fairly obvious I had picked the wrong one. I felt the water pull me. There was no way I was going to hold. I pushed off with both legs dropped about 10 feet and went under. Same as before I thought “Get deep, swim wide” It worked and I surfaced clear. Shad was yelling something but I couldn’t hear. Another set had come in and it was getting a bit hectic. I could feel my right shoe was loose so I went under and retied the lace. By this stage I was tiring fast and contemplating letting my jacket go. I had wanted to keep it on as it would provide me a bit of protection from the grate. I tried to swim back in but there was too much drag. I let the jacket go and struck out for the ledge. Shad was signaling for me to hurry and I noticed that we had got the lull he had been waiting for. Without the jacket I made good progress and caught the rope just after it hit the water. I got a foot hold on the cunjie and with one hand grip on the rock and the rope in my right Shad managed to take the weight as the water rolled off my back. This in itself was no small effort as I’m 6ft 4 and weigh ninety five kilos, plus the suck, the lad did well! I got three steps up the chute and safe.

We got back up high as fast as I could move and Bakes set about ripping strips off the sheet I had used to wrap the rods to bind my hands. I took off my wet shirt and put my vest on, the water was warm but I started to cool down fast once the adrenalin dissipated. We took stock of the injuries I lost a fair amount of bark and was bleeding from both knees down. I had some fairly deep gashes in the palms of my hands which were going to make life a little interesting for the next few days but all up the damage was minimal. Shad bound my hands up and we started packing up.

It was then that I realised my car keys were in my jacket pocket. This would present a fairly serious problem. One of the blokes that we were fishing with offered to help anyway he could which was well appreciated by Shad and myself. He returned to his gear but not before noticing my jacket floating on the wash line about 70m north of where I had left it. Shad tied an 80 gram Raider onto the bottom of the jigs and I tried to jag the jacket on the retrieve. With poor light I wasn’t able to get a visual on it and gave up after a dozen casts. I did however manage to hook a few slimies which for once was not appreciated. The bloke who had offered us assistance said that he was leaving as he wanted to walk out with a bit of light but would wait for us on the beach. We said our goodbyes and I walked back to where Shad was packing up the gear. By this stage I was stiffening up quickly and not looking forward to the walk out. With a little discussion we decided to leave the bait pool and burley bucket as we would return in the morning and pick it up. We made our way slowly north towards the dodge. Watching a set come through we picked our moment and scurried over the low ground and up the ledge. By the time we got around the corner and into relative safety we had lost all light and were operating on head lamps alone.

As we walked further around I noticed a couple of lights and wondered whether one of those lights belonged to a mate I was supposed to catch up with that weekend. I got a bit of a silhouette and the shape fitted the bill. “Is that Shane”… “What”… “I said is that Shane”… “Yeah mate” …“it’s Kurt, how are you doing?” By this stage he had picked me up in his headlamp and seen I was wet and a little bashed up. “Was that you that went in”… “Yeah”…I got a little bit of a dressing down which was more out of concern than anything else. Then he proceeded to tell me I owed him a slab of beer. I thought this was a little cheeky and got a puzzled look from Shad. Shane then asked if I had lost a black Columbia jacket.

He knew too much, maybe I had reason to be down a case of beer. Shane and Neil then went on to tell us how they had hooked a Mac not long ago and it had come to the gaff with my jacket wrapped around its head. Shane then reached down picked up the jacket and passed it to me. I undid the zip on the right hand pocket and with a look of astonishment produced my car keys. We had a bit of a chat and I said we would meet them in the car park as I wanted to get out before I seized up. It turned out our mate from around the corner had told them how an angler had been washed in. He had got out a little worse for wear but had lost a rod and his jacket. This had taken place just after they picked up the now infamous Mac Tuna. I had also walked straight past the boys before first light that morning.

Shad and I walked out in much better spirits. It had been an interesting day and we were both exhausted when we put our packs down next to the Ute. Shad opened up the car and got my jumper out so my body temp wouldn’t crash after the walk out. Bakes packed the gear into the back of the truck and I got the heater going. After catching up with the boys we made the short trip into town and picked up a couple of beers which were well appreciated after what had been an unforgettable day. Lights out…

The next morning we slept in as planned. The sun was high when I woke and it looked as though the weather had turned it on for us. After a quick stock take of my injuries I was happy to find I had better movement than expected. I got up and removed my sun glasses from the breast pocket of my jacket which Shad had hung on the roof racks to dry. Unbelievable I thought. The jacket even smelt of Mac slime. After Bakes had brewed the coffee we discussed the day’s battle plan. It was decided we would forgo the mid morning recce we had planned and hike out at two for an afternoon assault. The bait pool and other gear we had left on the ledge would just have to take its chances with the punters.

We set up on the beach in the lee and I made some way toward cleaning and dressing the abrasions I had suffered the previous day. I was glad for the medical kit in the car and the elasticized sock Shad had brought in case his knee played up served well to cover the dressings on my hands. We had lunch then rearranged the kit.