Bloody slow at Marlo

Last Friday I was hanging for a fish, so I gave my mate Alex a call, chucked Luna in the car, and made the long drive down the Marlo:



We arrived with a couple of hours of light left, and although the sun was out, it was bloody freezing and blowing a gale:



To make matters worse, we made our way down to the flats and were greeted with this green, filamentous algae:



Has anyone else seen this down here before? Usually this is a sign of a nutrient spike in the water, so hopefully the system gets a good flush soon. Anyway, we started having a flick and started foul hooking heaps of these little shrimp:



Lots of bait = lots of fish, right? Wrong. Two hours later, the only fish that had hit the sand was this guy:



Usually when the toads are aggressive and hitting lures it generally means other fish are feeding too, but not this time. Ah well, at least Luna was enjoying herself:





And as always, the sunset was spot on:



We headed back to the car a little surprised at the lack of action, but certain we'd make up for it the next day. We were on the flats before the sun and conditions looked perfect:



We decided to fish a little drop off where the receding tide had revealed a number of flathead lies:



We started flicking surface lures around and despite seeing a few swirls and boils, we couldn’t entice a strike. Lucky the sunrise was nice because we couldn't catch a cold:



As the sun rose higher I decided to switch to a deeper diver, and it didn’t take long before I was on:



A nice bream in the low 30s – thank god! I had another solid hit a couple of casts later for no hook up, before it went quiet again. We wandered the flats for the next couple of hours covering some serious ground, when out of desperation I tied on a chubby. And couple of casts later I was on:



A nice flatty spot on 50cm. Ahh the faithful chubby, how many times have you saved me from a fishless session. By this stage it was almost high tide, and the beach we had been wandering on was now completely under water:



This meant we had to do some serious wading to get back to dry land, and we weren’t the only ones caught out by the big tide:



Poor Luna had to do a heap of swimming:



And reed-bashing:



And by the time we made it back to dry land, the poor thing was exhausted:



By this stage it was late morning and I had to be on the road by midday, so Alex decided to tie on a bent minnow in a last ditch effort to catch his first bream on surface. And almost straight away he had a hit. After his second missed hit I decided to tie on a bent too, and it didn’t take long before I was on:



A nice, healthy bream in the low 30s. And next cast, Alex's bent was absolutely crunched! This was obviously a good fish, and after a really solid fight a beautiful yellowfin around the 40cm mark popped up. Maz was absolutely stoked - not only was it his first fish on surface, it was a cracker to boot! As I was getting the camera out, Maz decided to give the bream a quick rinse in the shallows. It gave a little kick and Maz let it swim off, grabbing the line, only to watch his prize bream disappear back into the depths with the lure still in its mouth - the lure clip had come undone. Behold a broken man:



This was devastating for Maz on several levels – not only was it his first bream on surface, it would have probably beaten his PB of 39cm (we never got to measure it), it might have been his first 40, and it swam away with his favourite, custom coloured 86mm bent. Pisser ha.

Cheers!

East Gippy brutes

On Friday afternoon I made a hasty exit from uni and started the long trip down to Tamboon for a weekend of fishing and camping with my old man and good mate Pistol. We arrived late Friday night and after a restless night in the car, Pistol was waiting for us with his boat before the sun was up (you need to take a short boat ride to this campsite):



The plan was to head to the campsite, drop our stuff off, eat a little breakfast, then fish the day away. But once we were on the water we just couldn’t help ourselves, and Pistol suggested we have a quick flick at one of his favourite bream spots on the way:



And it didn’t take long before he was on the board:



A nice bream in the mid 30s – not a bad way to start the day. And a couple of casts later, he had another – this one in the high 30s:



Pistol proceeded to catch another nice bream and give us a thorough bream fishing lesson in the process, while all I could manage was this tiny perch:



Just as we were considering heading in for some breakfast, my rod buckled over and up popped this beauty:



40cm to the tip, - a great way to open up the account. With that we decided it was time to head to camp, and my dad and I were greeted with a classic Pistol campsite complete with solar panels, a refrigerator, LED lights, a nifty little kitchen, a warm fire and a huge 5-man tent - how bloody good's this:



We ate a hasty breakfast and were back on the water in record time, and it didn’t take long for the fish to start hitting the deck. Pistol and I got the ball rolling with a couple of mid-high 30s bream:




I was giving my dad a bit of stick about his fishless morning when his reel started screaming, and he shut me up with this brute:



Just on 40cm, but super thick and in great condition. This was easily my dad’s pb bream on a lure and he was stoked. We spent the next couple of hours moving around with a steady stream of mid-high 30’s fish hitting the deck, with a few nice flatties in the low-mid 50s thrown in for good measure (we kept a couple for dins):



Before deciding to head in for lunch:



Although the fishing wasn’t quite as hot as my previous trip down here with Pistol, it had still been a great session, especially considering it was freezing cold and blowing 25-30knots. After warming up by the fire we headed to a new spot where Pistol and I had success the previous year:



And it didn’t take long before my old man had the first fish in the boat:



Another nice bream in the high 30s. Over the next hour my dad proceeded to give us a fishing lesson, landing 7-8 nice fish all in the high 30s. Pistol was also landing a steady stream of bream:



While all I could catch were small bloody flathead:



And tiny bream:



Just as we were considering making a move, my dad’s lure was absolutely hammered and after a really solid fight, this monster popped up:



It went 44cm to the tip and was my dad’s new PB - you couldn't wipe the smile off the smug bastard's face. We caught a steady stream of fish for the remainder of the afternoon before heading back in for a dinner of fresh flathead and veggies (cheers Pistol, you do a mean fish fillet):



After a few glasses of red and a bit of banter we decided to call it a night. It had been a ripper day despite the weather, and in the space of a few hours my dad had quadrupled the number of bream he’s ever caught on a lure. To say he was pleased with himself is an understatement. The next morning we were up with the sun and greeted with a beautiful sunrise:



We decided to head to Pistol’s favourite big bream spot (we couldn’t fish it the previous day as it was just too windy):



We drifted along this beach in 1-1.5m of water and the fish started rolling in. My dad again had the magic touch, landing 2-3 fish to our one:




But it didn’t take long before Pistol got in on the act with this beautiful 41cm fish:



And next cast, he landed another – this time 42cm:



Two 40s in two casts – can’t complain about that! We landed a steady stream of fish throughout the morning:




Including several double hook-ups:



And a few really nice flatties in the high 50s and low 60s:




When we decided to do one last drift before heading in. I decided to tie on something a little bigger (a jackall squirrel) in hope of snagging a bigger bream, and first cast I was on:



To a tiny flathead. Pistol and dad landed a couple of nice bream and I was just considering changing lures when my rod buckled over. I initially called this for a big flatty but after a ripping fight, up popped this guy:



He went 43cm (1cm shy of my old man’s – much to his delight):



And was one of the thickest, widest bream I’ve seen. By this stage the clouds had cleared and revealed a beautiful day, but we had a campsite to pack up, and although the fishing was hot, we reluctantly headed in. It was a brilliant way to finish the morning session, and a great way to finish the trip. A massive thanks to Pistol for taking my old man and I out – you da man.

Cheers!