Fishing, Nature, Dogs: My final fieldtrip to Townsville

As some of you may know from previous posts, I study fish and do all my collecting in Townsville.
I recently had some unexpected deaths in the lab and needed to top up my fish stocks, but I was racing the clock - the wet season was rapidly approaching and would soon make it impossible to collect fish. I gave my research assistant a call (aka my dad) and within a week we were on the road to Townsville:

The first part of the drive went by without a hitch, and when darkness fell I took over the wheel for the night shift. It’s always a little hairy driving through northern NSW and central QLD during the night given the roads are plagued with maniacal kangaroos, but time was of the essence. I somehow managed to avoid any collisions with the thousand kangaroos I passed during the night, but several of these guys weren’t so lucky:

In amongst the toads there were also some cool native frogs, like this green tree frog:

And I was super psyched to see this badass crucifix frog:

But just as the sun appeared on the horizon:

My luck took a turn for the worse, and I hit three kangaroos in 15 minutes. Goddammit. The first two were only glancing blows and caused no damage (to us or to the roo), but the third wasn't so lucky:

I guess it could have been a lot worse - we could have hit one of these guys:

And ended up like this poor bastard:

My dad took over again once the sun was up, and the last part of the drive went by smoothly. However, the closer we got to Townsville, the more ominous the weather started to look:

I was getting really worried that my field site would be flooded, especially with all the reports of isolated flooding along the northeastern coast. But when we pulled into our cheap little hostel after 30 hours of driving, we were met with blue skies and sunshine:

It was about 4pm by this stage and too late to go sampling, so there was nothing else to do but head out for a flick. I rigged up the gear in record time and we headed straight to the flats at the mouth of the Ross River to have a crack at some flatties:

We started flicking around little hards and it didn’t take long before a few nice flatties hit the sand:

We also picked up a couple of tiny cod, which I was surprised to see on the flats:

But the tide was rapidly rising and we were running out of sand, so we decided to relocate to the rock wall under the bridge. I swapped my bream gear for a slightly heavier outfit (I was hoping for a barra), while my old man stuck with the light stuff. He immediately started pulling in little cod and moses perch:

Until something bigger absolutely slammed his lure and quickly bit him off. Reassured that there were some bigger fish around I persisted with the heavier gear, while dad tied on a double clutch. A few casts later his reel was screaming again and a nice barra around the 60-70cm mark came flying out of the water. Somehow my dad’s 6lb leader held true, and he got it right to his feet before it gave one more lunge and won it’s freedom. That's what ya get for using 6lb leader ya goose. My Dad re-rigged and caught some more small stuff including this little barracuda:

But we had no other big hits, and as the sun disappeared and the sky filled with bats:

We decided to call it a night. The next day we were up before the sun and after getting all the gear organized, we were on our way to my sampling site at Alligator Creek. I had all my fingers crossed that it hadn’t flooded but when we got there and saw all the new vegetation (this area is usually brown and dry):

I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact that the wet season had arrived. But when we made our way to the actual river bed, I was surprised to see that it was still dry:

In fact, it was drier than I’d ever seen it, and all my sample sites from the last couple of years had dried up. I guess there had been a little bit of recent rain in the area – enough to trigger some new plant growth – but not enough to fill the flood plain. Now I had a new problem - where the hell would I collect fish? We started exploring and after bashing our way over some pretty rough terrain:

We eventually found a couple of likely looking water holes:

And thankfully, they were full of fish. This included the usual native by-catch of gudgeons, rainbows and glassfish:

The noxious Mozambique mouthbrooder; first photo = juvenile, second = adult:

Plenty of cool invertebrates like this water scorpion:

And thankfully, my study species – the humble guppy:

We spent the next three days sampling in this area but on the afternoon of the third day, the fish literally ran out. We decided to wait until the next day to find a new sampling site, and spend the last couple of hours of light having a flick in a likely looking pool we’d discovered earlier in the week:

This pool was only tiny, but I was hoping there might be a few hungry barra or tarpon stranded in it. I tied on a sugapen while my dad went with a little X-55, and first cast I landed this tiny spangled perch:

We caught a few of these aggressive little guys before my dad hooked into something a little more substantial, and after a short fight this guy popped up:

A beaut little jungle perch – a bit of a surprise but we weren't complaining. A couple of casts later my Dad’s lure was belted, and after a couple of seconds of screaming drag the hooks pulled, revealing some seriously bent trebles. After my dad pulled the hooks on a third good fish in the space of about 15 minutes I reluctantly swapped my surface lure for a shallow diver, and it didn’t take me long before I came up solid:

A nice tarpon – not the barra I was hoping for, but beggars can't be choosers right? By this stage the sun was quickly disappearing and we had a long walk ahead of us, so we decided to call it quits.

The next morning we started our search for a new sampling area by heading to the Alice River, which I’d heard held a reasonable population of guppies. This river alternated between thick, swampy pools:

And shallow, sandy riffles only a few inches deep:

Fortunately both of these habitats held guppies, but they were in low numbers and sampling was a pain in the ass. This area was also home to some angry horses who really didn't like the look of me:

There were also butterflies everywhere. Check this funky dude - the markings on the wings are meant to look like a second head to confuse predators:

Unfortunately any slightly deeper water was full to the brim with Mozambique mouthbrooders. The river bed was dotted with their nests (the males dig a big hole where the females lay their eggs, then guard them aggressively until they hatch). God I hate these guys:

But despite these obstacles, we managed to fill our quota of fish over the next three days - thank god!

By this stage we were exhausted (it’s bloody hard work trudging several kilometres through thick bush carrying eskies full of fish) and covered in horrible blisters and mozzie bites:

And multiple nasty scratches (everything is prickly up there):

But all week we’d been thinking about those lost Barra at the river, so when we finished sampling on the afternoon of the 6th day, we went straight back to the bridge. I again took down the heavier gear, while my dad stuck with the bream gear – but this time with a 30lb bite leader tied onto the end of his 6lb leader. And as always, the little cod and moses perch started annoying us straight away:

Check the baitfish down this greedy guy’s throat:

After about an hour of flicking my dad’s reel started screaming again and it didn’t take long before another nice barra cleared the water, pulling the hooks on the first jump. Goddamit! Again I hadn’t had a touch on the barra gear (they seemed to like the small lures) and just as the sun was going down, my dad came up solid again. This was another nice fish, and after a great fight including some awesome acrobatics, we finally managed to slip it up onto the rocks:

You beauty! By this stage the sun had gone and we were getting eaten alive by mozzies, so we decided to head home on a high. The next day was our last in Townsville and with our sampling finished we wanted to do some exploring. After a bit of reconnaissance work on google maps we decided to head down to Ayr and fish the Burdekin River. We arrived in Ayr around midday and after stopping for a quick lunch (look at the size of this bloody burger!):

We headed down to the river. And it looked mint:

This part of the river was a lot bigger than I expected, but there was a nice drop off close to the bank that felt very fishy. There were also heaps of mudskippers and fiddler crabs, which are a sign of a healthy environment:

Again I opted for my heavier outfit (I don't know why, I hadn't had a sniff all trip) while my dad stuck with his bream outfit, and it didn’t take long before he had a solid hit that pulled the hooks. Good signs! Over the next hour my dad managed to pull the hooks on two solid barra around the 60-70cm mark, while again I didn’t get a touch on the bigger lures. Eventually my old man managed to keep the hooks in something, and after a ripper fight up popped this beauty:

A diamond trevally – not a barra, but a wicked fish. The next hour was fairly quiet (excluding a 45 minute fight my dad had with a foul hooked stingray that ended with him losing his favourite lure...ha):

Until the sun started to drop, and I FINALLY came up solid on the heavy gear:

…to a tiny little GT - you're joking right?! Over the next half an hour we landed a few of these guys (they give a really good account of themselves – especially on bream gear):

Until I FINALLY hooked into something a lot bigger. I fought this guy for a few seconds until he started thrashing around on the surface, throwing the hooks. I can’t be certain, but I’m fairly sure it was a big barra – dang. Two casts later I came up solid again to another good fish, and after a really solid fight this guy hit the sand (modelled beautifully by my old man):

A nice consolation prize – these GTs certainly punch above their weight – but not what I was hoping for. By this stage the sun had nearly disappeared and the magpie geese were heading to roost:

So we decided to head home. It had been a great little session and with a little bit of luck, it might have been something pretty damn special. But I guess that’s what keeps us going back aye?

The next morning we were up with the sun and after packing the car, we started the long journey home (it was blissfully uneventful excluding the masses of cattle that kept clogging up the roads):

It had been a gruelling but successful trip, and I’m a little sad that it will be my last sampling trip to this area (barring any disasters in the lab). Quick shout out to my old man who, at 60 years old, does it all. From bush bashing all day through rough terrain: