We left my place at lunchtime last Friday and were at the flats with a couple of hours of light left:
I tied on a double clutch while my old man went with the ever faithful chubby, and it didn’t take long before I had a hit:
This was the smallest tailor I’ve ever seen, and we quickly discovered that the system was absolutely chockas with these little guys. I caught close to a dozen before I finally had a decent hit:
A nice bream around the 30cm mark - not a bad way to start the trip. I had a couple more bumps and it didn't take long for my Dad to ditch his chubby and tie on a double clutch too. We flogged the water for another 45 mins or so with nothing but tiny tailor coming to the banks, but just as we were considering calling it a night my dad came up solid:
Not big, but his first bream on a lure. You beauty! By the time I’d taken a couple of snaps the light was fading:
So we decided to call it a night. After a good nights sleep we were back on the flats before the sun was up and conditions were perfect:
I tied on a bent while my mate Alex went with a double clutch and Dad a chubby minnow. The fishing was slow to begin with but just as the sun popped its head over the trees:
Alex had a hit:
Another tailor. We were hoping they’d disappeared over night, but if anything they became even more ravenous throughout the day. After releasing a few of these pesky critters Alex finally had a hit from something a little bigger:
And we landed our first bream of the morning. Only a little fella, but a good sign. We made our way up to the shallower flats and I swapped to a cranka minnow, which was belted second cast:
A nice yellowfin in the mid 30s. It didn’t take my old man long to switch to a shallow diver too, and after a couple of casts his colt minnow was hammered by a good fish:
You ripper! A really nice fish in the mid 30s – dad was stoked. We continued flicking in this area for another hour but all we could manage was more little tailor and an XL mullet that pulled the hooks at my Dad's feet (dang). Oh well, at least Louie was enjoying the flats:
We decided to head back for lunch and after polishing off some tasty fish and chips, we went back to flats and started tossing around various deeper diving cranks and minnows. And first cast these guys started annoying us again:
The fishing was extremely slow, and as the afternoon wore on we covered some serious territory. Poor Louie had to do a heap of swimming as we waded across the deeper channels – the poor thing was exhausted by the end of the day:
We eventually came to a really nice looking piece of water, and lying on the sand was this big girl (she would have been around the 60cm mark):
No idea how she died – hopefully not at the hands of an irresponsible angler. As much as I’d rather not see a big dead flatty, it did give us hope that they were in the right area. But after flogging the water for the best part of 3 hours, we had nothing but tiny tailor to show for our effort. We were just considering heading home when my old man finally came up solid. A big dead weight with headshakes – finally we’d found our target! Judging by the bend in my Dad’s rod this was a big fish, but just as it started to peel some line the hooks pulled. Shit! We flogged this bit of water for the next half an hour but couldn’t entice another bite – it just wasn’t our day. As the sun started to drop we decided to call it a day and when I bought my lure in I noticed something on my front treble:
The smallest flatty in the history of the world. How’s that for salt in the wound (it's actually a species of goby, but a flatty is more poetic). Oh well, at least Dad and caught that elusive first bream on an artificial - I told ya bream take lures!
Cheers!
