MID COAST BAPTISM

by Kurt Edwards

With the sun past its zenith we donned the packs and once again headed up baker breaker hill. This time he wasn’t the only one suffering by the time we reached the top. We made good time and were soon off the beach and onto the rock. As expected the first spots were well occupied so we stayed high and watched a few sets pass before running the gauntlet onto the front ledge.

There were two groups on the rock, one at southern point and the other fishing the middle of the ledge. We decided to fish the northern end inside the point as it would provide some good high ground and keep our lines out of the way of the other anglers. We put the packs down and set off to reclaim what was left of the gear we had abandoned the night before. I spotted the bait pool in the middle of the ledge not quite where we had left it. We said hello to the blokes fishing there and continued south. My bucket was on the southern tip of the ledge. After exchanging pleasantries I asked if the bucket was there when they arrived. The bloke handed it to me a little lighter but still containing the long handled serving spoon I use for flicking the burley out. I figured their using the burley was fair enough as I was glad to have the kit back. I thanked the chap as Shad noticed one of their party fishing from the wall south of the chute where I had run into trouble the day before. My jaw dropped, he had nowhere to turn if a good wave came through and the tide was rising. Bakes cautioned the bloke who had returned the bucket to me and he signaled his mate to come in. Then he spotted the fresh tat on Shad’s calf. “Where‘d you get you’re art done bro?” I took this as my queue to exit as I wasn’t feeling overly social and didn’t have the stomach to watch the guy on the wall because he hadn’t even shortened his line.

Shad had spent half a day in the tattoo studio before I picked him up on Friday.

I left Shad with it and moved back up the ledge to strike up a conversation with the boy’s fishing the centre. The bloke told me he had heard about our misfortune, it wasn’t hard to pick who I was from the compression bandage around my knee. I told him we were fine and thanked him for his concern. He said he had moved the pool because it had nearly been washed off that morning. “I patched the hole in it as well.” Now I was starting to get happy. “Champion.” I replied. Shad had finished trading battle scars with the fellow down the ledge so we made our way back up to our packs.

All I was missing was my bait net. I rigged up the bait rod and Shad went for water.

The bait fishing was hard; a dozen casts one bait jig and still nothing. Around five minutes later I got connected. It didn’t feel like a slimy I was thinking more along the lines of a blurter. I got lower on the ledge and lifted the fish out of the water. It was a big Cowanyong. Not quite what I wanted but it went in the pool just in case.

Five fruitless casts later Shad pinned it and sent it back in. The little bugger did what the Cowey folk often do, he resisted the wash and headed straight back under the ledge. Not what I had in mind. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts at getting him to swim wide we decided it was a waste of time. The fish just couldn’t be educated. Another ten minutes on the bait rod and I felt something much better. The line cut across the surface as I brought the fish in close. Three Slimys, much better fair. I got down low again, carefully lifted them out of the water and climbed back up to the pool. I popped the hooks without handling the fish and went for another bucket of water.

We had decided to bucket water from the rock pool in the centre of the platform because our rope was just a little short for where we were fishing and the sea was still lively. As I came back the guy who fixed my pool asked if I had also left a bait net. I started smiling. “Thanks mate” and Shad ran down and picked it up. I glanced back over my shoulder just in time to see a very large wave come through at the southern end of the ledge. Shad’s new mate threw us a look that said his friend had already got out of the way and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I recaptured a bait and pinned it in the shoulder while still in the net. As we had run out of black and red balloons he was sent seaward under the “Pink Perpetrator”, so named after its resemblance in colour to the bait stealing Squire of Lake Macquarie.

This little fellow was much better behaved. The current was running to the north and with us being right in close to the northern point sent our bait straight out into “Tuna Territory”. It didn’t take long and the line started peeling off the reel under shads thumb. He waited the obligatory period and pushed the lever forward to strike. Leaning back into it the tip registered a small head shake but no run. The fish came in with little resistance before letting go 50m out. We got the bait back stunned but kicking. He had a V shaped laceration across the top of his head, small Bonito.

The next bait caught the slip stream heading out along the point and made it to the edge of the wash just as the local contingency of Gar leapt clear of the surface. Again the reel came to life. I was looking on with a bit of a sly smile as Shad picked his moment. He had pulled hooks on the last four fish, excluding the XXL oversized Sambo that had smashed his slimy coming out of the water like a second class Billfish the day before. The fish was that greedy it had even managed to gut hook itself despite the octopus circle, and as a result found itself in the burley bucket. Shad had changed to a #7 Big Gun in protest.

For the sergeants part he came up solid but lost little line. The fish arced south but was out gunned by the 30 LBG stick. Back in the centre of the platform and down on the lower ledge Shad found himself with one more than slightly paranoid gaff man. “I’ll keep an eye on the water you keep one on the fish.” I said. Bakes called me down when he had its head clear. The hook went in and I pulled the 7.5Kg Mac over the edge. I took a couple of pics for Shads fridge and we set about getting another bait out.