Friday afternoon I picked up my mate Lara and we started making our way towards East Gippsland. Our first stop was a river where I was hoping Lara might snag her first bass:
We started flicking around little hards and it didn’t take long before I had a hit:
Not a bass, but it’s always nice to get a fish on the board. The light was quickly fading so we headed straight to my favourite section of river:
This spot is snag city, so it’s heavy leaders and locked drags (I learnt this the hard way). I tied on the ever-faithful chubby and first cast it was whacked:
A nice bass in the mid 30s – good signs. We flicked in this area for another halfa until I heard a yell from Lara that she was on. I hurried over to find her holding on for dear life, with the biggest bass I’ve ever seen splashing around in front of her. I jumped in the river to try and land it when it gave an almighty flick and spat the hook – gutted:
This bass was every bit of 50cm, and when it hit on a locked drag and relatively heavy gear, it literally nearly pulled Lara into the river ha. We had a couple more flicks in this spot until Lara had another hit:
A pretty sad consolation prize, but it was still a new species for Lara. Luna looked as disappointed as us:
By this stage the light was quickly fading, so we decided to get back in the car and continue on to Marlo. After finding a quiet spot to set up camp:
This guy was very nearly kindling:
We hit the hay, hoping to redeem ourselves and snag some nice fish on the flats. We awoke to a beautiful sunrise:
And it didn’t take long to discover that the estuary was again full of these little bastards:
Goddam these guys are annoying, and they were in plague proportions. Look at them busting up in front of Lara:
We wandered the flats all morning, covering some serious territory with the pups in tow:
I lost count of how many of these guys we caught:
Some of the other by-catch was downright embarrassing:
Until finally Lara hooked into something with a bit of size. This fish didn’t do much besides shake its head until it was in shallows, when it suddenly took off and was peeling off line until it went slack – the 4lb leader had worn through. This was no doubt a nice flatty – lucky Luna was there with a commiseratory lick:
By this stage the sun was well and truly up, revealing a perfect morning:
But we were starving, so we made our way back to camp for a late brekky:
With the fish off the chew at Marlo, we decided to head down the road to a spot I’d never fished before - the Yeerung River:
We made our way to the flats and started flicking, and it didn’t take long for Lara to have a hit:
We soon discovered that the tiny tailor that were a pain in the ass at Marlo had been replaced by tiny salmon here – they were everywhere:
This spot had some really nice looking flats that I’m sure would hold fish:
But the tiny salmon were even more annoying than the tiny tailor, so we decided to head back to Marlo for the last couple of hours of light. After passing this dude on the road:
We made our way to the flats - and the sky was putting on a show:
We went straight to a deep channel hoping the tailor might be less prolific – nope, first cast:
We persisted through the tiny tailor when I finally hooked into something that felt a little different:
The smallest flatty in Marlo – Lando couldn’t even look at me:
We decided we’d had enough of Marlo, so after enjoying a perfect sunset:
We packed up camp and started driving. After a bit of thought I decided to head to a little estuary a couple of hours further up the coast. This spot was in a national park, so I reluctantly left the dogs with my uncle and aunty who were staying in Marlo for the week. We arrived around 11pm and were completely zonked, so we decided to sleep in the car – oh how I regret this. We woke up with the sun the next morning and I decided to move the car to a slightly more discreet location, when I heard a sickening crunch and my heart sank. I’d forgotten about the rods and reels under the car:
Both my salmon spinning outfits, and my brand spankin’ new luvias, were completely trashed. IDIOT! I consider myself a pretty smart dude, but I do some stupid f$%&ing things sometimes. Thank god the bream gear was still in the car or it would have been a complete disaster. After coming to terms with my stupidity, the prospect of fishing a new area quickly lifted my spirits:
I didn’t really know where to start, so we made our way to the beach in the gloom, which was covered in blue bottles:
And dead leather jacket:
We eventually came to the river mouth, where we found this nice little side channel:
And first cast, I had a hit:
A little trev – things were looking up. And a few casts later, Lara yelled out that she was on too:
A nice little yellowfin bream – you beaut! We fished this area for the next couple of hours, landing tailor:
Trevs:
Bream:
Pesky toads:
And a couple of beautiful whiting:
By this stage it had turned into a lovely morning:
But hunger soon got the better of us, and we headed in for lunch. It had been a ripper morning, and I’d forgotten all about the earlier disaster. Pulling the hooks on a 40cm+ trevally couldn’t even dampen my spirits. After lunch we decided to explore a bit further up the estuary:
After a bit of bush bashing, we came to this lovely spot:
I didn’t even get my lure in the water before Lara had the first fish on the bank:
A lovely flathead around the 40cm mark – dinner! And next cast, I followed it up with another:
This section of the estuary was chockas full of tiny baitfish:
And there were lots of hungry predators feasting on them. We spent the next few hours catching a steady stream of nice fish including bream:
Whiting:
Little pinkies:
HEAPS of flathead:
Even a big angry octopus:
But it wasn’t until the sun had started to set that I finally came up solid to a really good fish, and after a brilliant fight a big black bream well over the 40cm mark surfaced. I slid him gently up onto the bank where he gave one last flick, spat the lure, and disappeared back into the water – shattered. Lara yelled out that she was on to a good fish too, and I was hoping it would be another big bream – wrong:
A goddam tailor – a big school of the bastards had moved into the little cove we were fishing, and in 3 casts I lost three of my favourite, custom painted presso’s – I was filthy. When Lara got bitten off too we decided we’d had enough, and we begrudgingly called it a night. I guess it was a pretty fitting end to an absolute rollercoaster of a trip – we’d been plagued by undersize fish, lost some monsters, and demolished nearly 1k worth of fishing gear, but we’d discovered a beautiful new spot made some killer memories. Was it worth it? ...probably...ha.
Cheers!
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