This spot can sometimes be an absolute bitch to fish as it is often very weedy, and if this combines with a large swell it can be almost impossible to keep a bait in the water. And unfortunately, the boys found this out the hard way:
We arrived just on high tide and we spent the first hour of our session hauling in big clumps of weed. Gummy fishing was just like I remembered – it was cold, wet, and bloody frustrating. No wonder I gave it up. And the crabs were out in force making a mess of our baitst:
We considered moving spots but I knew that if we just stuck it out and waited for the tide to recede a bit, the swell would die down and the weed would disappear. And sure enough, it did. So I chucked on a fresh salmon fillet:
And before I even had a chance to bait up my second rod, something snaffled it. After a really solid fight up popped this beauty:
A nice little gummy around the 6-7kg mark – not a bad way to start the night. So after a few quick snaps we let him go and got our baits back in the water, and it didn’t take long before one of my rods buckled over again. After a couple of solid runs I was bitten off, and over the next hour this same thing happened 5 times. I was certain of the culprit - a dirty big giller. Frustrating is an understatement. But eventually something different grabbed my bait, and up popped a nice pinky:
Not much of a fish, but it was nice to get something to the sand. Before I could my bait back out, my other rod buckled over. This felt like another giller *sigh*, But when I got it near the shore, it went absolutely nuts. It jumped out of the water 3-4 times and thrashed around on the surface for a good 2-3 minutes before screaming off on one of the quickest runs I’ve ever experienced. It peeled off a hundred metres of braid in no time at all and when I finally turned it and started getting some line back, it went slack – bitten off again. Dang. I’m not going to speculate too much about what it was, but I have my suspicions. By this stage the persistent rain had soaked through my numerous layers of clothing, we were running out of bait:
And poor Louie'd had enough:
So we made the long trek back to the car and went home with our tails somewhat between our legs. This trip reminded why I don't fish for gummies anymore – I was soaking wet, cold, tired, I stunk like bait, I had a boot full of gear to clean when I got home, and I’d spent the majority of my night tying new rigs. I've already started planning my next trip.
Cheers!
