Hot Fishing Down Under
By
James A. Fennell
It's hot, I don't mean the hot associated with wading a
saltwater flat in any of the warmer latitudes, I mean breath
catching, lung burning hot. The lack of humidity on the Fitzroy
river in Queensland, Australia, and the dry heat blown in from
the parched cattle country surrounding it in late October creates
an effect much like wading in a blast furnace. The Fitzroy, between
Rockhampton and the Pacific, is a wicked muddy river.
Fitzroy’s dark water is churned by tidal shifts twice a day and
is definitely not conducive to sight fishing. The heat,
occasional mosquitoes large enough to wear a collar and an absolutely
fearless fly that insists on getting behind your glasses and
nesting in your eyelashes, makes a late afternoon outing work.
Standing at the edge of a bluff overlooking the river, I swat at
a particularly offensive fly before seeking shade under a small
tree growing nearby and consider the time I’ve invested
exploring part of this river.
I've spent the past several days drifting between Darwin and
Gladstone and parts in between, working out the details for an extended
flyfishing trip scheduled during February and April next season.
Most of my time had been spent getting background information on
local fishing waters, types of fishing tackle used, etc. Because
of the fantastic opportunities Australia offers, I expected to
find many flyfishers plying its productive waters. Not to imply
that they don't exist, there are many good anglers around and the
long rod appears to find it's fair share of followers. Most of
the flyfishers in this area, however, tend to focus on the Great
Barrier Reef and many of the outstanding saltwater fishing areas
along this beautiful coast. At least that's the impression I had
after talking with friendly people at some of the local Tackle
Shops, Marinas Operators and the like.
I don't begrudge them this at all, in fact, I fully intend to
take advantage of the Big Reef and several other prime locations
as well, but presently, I'm focusing on the backwaters, the out
of the way places that offer a unique approach to flyfishing.
While Rockhampton is a charming little town and I had been
staying there for a couple of days I must admit that I had no intention
of looking at the Fitzroy river during this trip. However, I had
stopped for gas, Petrol, as the Aussie's say, on the outskirts of
Rockhampton and happened to see a couple of snapshots prominently
displayed near the door depicting proud anglers posing with
several very large fish. "Barramundi," the attendant
volunteered when he saw my interest, then seemed surprised that I
was familiar with this tough game fish. "Most Yank's don't
know much about Australia, mate," he quickly volunteered
with a smile. We talked for a few minutes and I learned that the
Fitzroy River produces many large Barramundi each season, then
managed to secure directions to a local Tackle Shop, aptly named
Barra Jack's and a nearby Marina on the river itself.
A stop at Barra Jack's yielded a couple of well tied local
deer hair poppers and some welcome advice from several occupants,
which included the news that a recreational fishing license is
not required anywhere in Queensland. I took the time to view many
photographs of shop patrons displaying several species of salt
and freshwater game fish, many of which were photographs of large
Barramundi, a couple were large enough to cause real excitement.
As it was late afternoon I spent some time cruising along the
river front near this charming town. There are a couple of good
boat launch points in Rockhampton, although the ramps are fairly
steep and at low tide require adequate vehicle power to scramble
back up. The drop off at the end of these ramps appears to be
fairly steep also, as one poor soul I witnessed, his fishing vest
absolutely festooned with electronic gadgets and sporting a sleek
fishing craft found out. He stepped off the end of the ramp
without checking the water depth. This can be tough on your
cellular phone, especially if you end up dropping out of sight
with your phone in tow. In passing, I'll say this, should you
drop yourself complete with cellular phone in the water, clean
the phone as thoroughly as possible with fresh water without
submerging it, then simply let it dry. Chances are it will still
work. Of course, if you try to use the phone before it dries you
are most likely performing an excellent warranty test.
After returning to my room for a refreshing shower, I had an
excellent steak, not surprising, as Rockhampton is touted as the "Beef
Capital of Australia," then spent some time pouring over a
topographical map of the area. While this part of flyfishing can
be tedious at times, a little research tends to go a long way.
Personally, I find that a trip to unfamiliar territory and firsthand
research will pay big dividends on future flyfishing jaunts to
that area. If possible, even if I intend to hire local talent to act
as a guide, I try to study the area I'll be fishing as much as
possible. While most of the out of the way places I trek through don't
lend themselves to much of anything at all and very rarely to
quality flyfishing guides, I believe this rule applies to most fishing
situations. The cost of quality equipment, transportation,
lodging and all the other fees involved in spending time on the water
dictate at least some effort be spent researching unfamiliar
areas.
This may be the most important thing I learned during graduate
school, notwithstanding the obscene amount of money I poured into
tuition, the odds are good that none of my professors thought one
of their students might spend an inordinate amount of time
applying graduate research to catch more fish. You see, education
does pay off.
The Fitzroy river bisects Rockhampton, a town of approximately
65,000, roughly in half. The river flows generally northwest to
southeast and leaves Rockhampton behind while skirting the
southern side of Mount Archer. After a short turn towards the mountain
the brown river bends back towards the the east holding a
relatively straight course until it nears sea level on its twenty-five
odd mile trek to the Pacific where it empties into Keppel Bay.
The closer the river gets to the sea the more the transition to a
tidal estuary is noticeable. There are heavy mangrove swamps,
complete with saltwater crocodiles and all the other goodies to
be found in mangrove waters of this region.
Let me take a moment and point out something, if excitement is
a necessary ingredient for your flyfishing expeditions as it is for
mine, walking along the edge of a muddy river while blind casting
for Barramundi and perpetually scanning for large saltwater crocs
will deliver it! Most locals that I talked with all indicated the
danger from crocodiles this far south was minimal. While crocs do
exist in these waters and I did see a couple, the danger is
reported to be very low. The prudent angler will exercise
caution, and fighting large fish while standing hip deep in tepid
brown water definitely isn't smart. I kept reminding myself as I
safely prowled the edge of the river that the danger was reported
as minimal, obviously I hoped the crocs had been informed of
their role in this game. Minimal crocodile activity is all I care
to take. While this trip had been aimed more at collecting
information than anything else, I did manage to catch a couple of
Barramundi, the largest maybe in the 10-12 lbs class. Barramundi
tend to be very aggressive and from what I have experienced their
feeding patterns are akin to freshwater Black Bass in many
respects. While certainly no expert on this tenacious and
opportunistic feeder, lengthy conversations with excellent
anglers who have made the pursuit of Barramundi a life long quest
do support my limited observations. Smashing attacks on large
surface poppers sure to destroy even the most carefully tied
flies, coupled with very strong, though generally short runs,
makes one think of south Georgia swamps and hulking Black Bass.
Unfortunately, only another Barramundi could consider this
species handsome, from the tip of it’s strong snout to the
end of it’s broad tail everything about the Barramundi
suggests a no nonsense approach to survival. Beauty has no place
here.
The flies are at me again, rousing me from my reflection on
the events of the past couple of days. I've carefully studied the river
around Rockhampton and out toward the ocean for a good distance
an effort that should make my return trips to this area much more
enjoyable. Swatting at the flies again, I make one more mark on
my map, a promising rock outcrop near some thick brush where the
water runs smooth and deep. Slowly closing my eyes for a moment,
I breathe deeply, inhaling the essence of all that surrounds me,
blotting out the buzz of insects, the minor irritation of sweat
following the path of least resistance down my back. The shadows
are longer now, the day inevitably coming to an end as I
carefully stow my battered pack rod, put away my reel and tackle,
wipe the sweat from my eyes and start the hike back upstream. I
hate to move on, but I'll be back next season...
Saltwater Crocodiles are never to be trifled with.
They are extremely aggressive and are known maneaters.
While many parts of Australia have no crocodile population,
exercise extreme caution. There are two basic rules I’d
recommend, talk with the local authorities of the area you plan
to visit and follow their advice. I understand it is possible to
purchase crocodile insurance while in some parts of Australia,
that alone speaks volumes about the risk.