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!
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