In what I think is a Gashes first, we set off on our second trip in the same month. Just two weeks after a sea weeded out Coorong trip, and we were off to old favourite Hillocks, to see what the many rock ledges and beaches could throw up.
Will was an unfortunate late withdrawal, but we still had a decent group of people heading over. New Kym, Sally, Harry, Sani and I were all set to arrive on Anzac day, and Matt and Sarah followed on Friday night. With the best camp spot at Hillocks now blocked off, I thought we'd head the other way and camp above Treasure Cove. The benefit of this spot being we could head out for a rock fish in the mornings without having to get in the car and drive.
We arrived at out spot, with perfect weather shining above. We overlooked the cove, and saw our fishing spot getting drowned by waves. We called that a low tide fishing spot instead, and sat back for the first of many beers.
Overlooking the water, beer in hand, and sun shining above made it very, very hard to motivate to get up and go anywhere, but Kym and I eventually settled on going for a quick walk along the cliffs to suss out a potential spot to throw a line in. With a few likely locations in mind, we went to gather some gear, and the ladies, and soon made our way down to a nice rock ledge. We passed some other fisherman on the way who'd caught a few salmon trout, so things looked good.
It didn't take long at all for Kym to hook into a decent size tommy, and before long he had a handful of them in the bucket. I switched over to a float and hooked a couple more, but blunt hooks were causing many drop offs. Soon enough, we saw Harry strolling along the rocks, correctly guessing which way to walk in order to find us.
The tommies went off the bite a bit, so we decided to move back towards camp and fish another ledge. With not much light left before sunset, we cast out a few baits and sat back and waited.
Kym had a pilchard under a float and a decent sized salmon snaffled it. It put up a great fight on some light gear and was awesome to watch cruising back and forth along the rock wall. Kym managed to get it up on the rocks though and it was in the esky soon after, as we headed back to camp to get the fire going.
After a fairly large night around the camp fire it was slow going in the morning. I got up and woke Harry up (by his own request) and we stumbled down to the nearby rock ledge. The target was squid, tommies or snook, but with the action slow, we soon succumbed to sore heads and were laid back on the rocks. Kym, mistakenly thinking he was missing out on a big fishing session came down soon after, but on the incoming tide we didn't have much time - with a tommy landed each, we headed back up to camp.
It was a slow day for fishing, and soon enough we were back around the fire, and Matt and Sarah were pulling in to camp.
The next morning we headed to the rock ledges we'd tried on the first day, but no tommies were about - so we casted out some big baits hoping for a few more salmon of the variety Kym had hooked on day 1. No salmon came to the party... but floats were going under indicating some squid having a munch. Matt nearly managed to get one up just on hooks, so I put a jag under a float, and Kym and Sally both cast out squid jags for retrieves.
Sally and I both hooked on to squid, but both had the squid drop off without getting it up onto the rocks. Sally then repeated the act with a squirt of ink flying up, but no squid following.
It was a frantic little session which yielded absolutely nothing, and soon the squid disappeared again, and hunger pains set in - so back to camp for lunch was the decision.
The afternoon plan was to head down to our old favourite spot on Salmon Beach, which thanks to the owners blocking off the road, now involves a 600 metre walk before climbing down the goat track. Once at the top of the cliff, we saw some other people fishing in our usual spot, but we thought it was worth a walk down anyway to see how we went. All the guys cast out and sat back to await the action.
It took a while before my rod had a solid bite, and I hooked into something large. It made a big run sideways along the gutter before a massive wave crashed down on it and whatever it was, got free from my hooks.
Another beer cracked, and a new bait out in the water, we waited some more. Again, I hooked on and this time wound in a small salmon. I followed up with two more small salmon and Kym had a very worried look of "I just lost the Gashes" on his face - but my 3 salmon were probably only equal in weight to his one, and he had caught many more tommies. Perhaps one more salmon would do it, and I was the only one getting bites. We sat back to crack our last beer and realised that Harry had made a fatal error in calculations regarding beach beer supplies. Some one had to go without. Kym went to rebait, so I took that as him volunteering himself to not have one.
The sun set, and we called it a night on the beach fishing. Kym still held a slender lead, put perhaps a morning fish might change things. Unfortunately for me, the next morning I got up and saw some fisherman down on the rocks below camp, and then all round laziness from all elected that we'd pack up and head home. Kym takes home his first Gashes!
After many months without throwing a line in, the planets finally aligned and we were able to organise a quick get away. The Coorong had been getting solid reports of Mulloway catches all summer, and although those reports had dried up, we had to get down and try it out before it got too cold.
We aired down and hit the beach around 11am, and soon found a massive wash out which meant driving down near the water's edge. I held my breath and put the foot down and we got through unscathed. After that it was pretty easy driving, but no gutter formations got out interest enough to set up camp, so we plowed on past Tea Tree Crossing.
At around the 5km mark, we finally hit upon a nice patch of water, with a cut out in the dunes to get camp set up and we pulled in and quickly cracked open the first beer of the trip, at 5 minutes before noon. We gave a call to Will, who was heading up later that day and let him know where we were, and warned him of the beach conditions at 42 Mile.
After just a couple of casts, we found a bit of seaweed causing problems, and sat back to have a few more beers and cook up some lunch. The fishing didn't get any easier through the afternoon with a large swell breaking right on the shore, and masses of sea weed getting tangled up in our lines.
Will turned up soon after and since we hadn't unpacked much gear, we decided to move further up the beach in hope that the weed wouldn't be else where. We travelled a further 15 kms or so before settling on a new gutter.
Things looked good when on our first cast, both Kym D and myself were soon winding in a nice little Elephant Shark.
Not very long after, Will too had an Elephant Shark on the sand. It was getting late, and the sun was low in the sky, so hopes were up for a good session, but the weed was rolling back in again, making life difficult.
Despite being one of the warmest evenings I've experienced at Salt Creek, we got a fire cranking and settled in for a few night beers, and the keenest of us even cracked open the glow sticks. This keenness didn't last too long though as the weed continued to be a nuisance. Not before Kym A had landed his first ever Elephant Shark though!
The next day was weed, weed and more weed. I managed to get another Elephant, and a small, undersized mulloway, but they were the only fish landed for the whole day. The weather was still great though, so much sitting about sinking cans of beer was done (so, really, not a lot different to normal).
It was another fine night, but the seaweed made any attempt of a night fish not doable. We woke up early to some light rain, and still no improvement in the sea weed department - so I was handed rare Gashes victory.
Back to 4 people, and the comfort of 2 cars for this years Far West Coast adventure - Myself, Will, Kym, and "new" Kym (Kym D for this story).
After stopping off at Penong for a delicious Schnitzel at the pub, and a few local characters talking up our prospects over the next week (one referred to Mulloway's as "c*#ts", as in - "you're gonna catch a big c*#t!") our hopes were high, and we set off on the last part of the journey to Scotts Beach.
Scotts had it's usual deep gutters and excellent looking water, but not the black schools in the water that we'd hoped to see. Having wasted many hours bait fishing for salmon in the gutters in previous years, we went off in search of schools, and ended up at the ledge. The ledge was quiet though, and we instead decided to try the deep gutter on Scotts after all, and set up camp. Things were promising when my first cast landed a Salmon, but it was all quiet from then on, and we soon called it a night after a long day.
The following day, we again searched for Salmon, desperately needing a few for bait before heading off to the dog fence. A great looking gutter at Mexican hat provided nothing and soon we returned to the rock ledges of Fowlers Point to berley up for some small fish. Instead of small fish though, a school of good sized salmon came swimming through, and Kym D who was persistently flicking lures out on his small rod, hooked up instantly. Will had a lure out in the water in no time at all and within a minute we had 2 good salmon up on the rocks. I hooked on myself, only for my lure to bust off as I was lifting the fish up onto the rocks.
Over the next hour, the school came and went multiple times, and we chased them around the corner and had persistent hook ups - at first I lost two lures for a single Salmon, but evened up the ledger and then got some footage of the boys hooking on - multiple hook ups at once were a common sight.
Bait esky loaded, and spirits high, we set off back to our campsite as the sunset, and soon everyone was relaxed and sinking some beers. It was good not to have a worry about bait on the back of our minds.
As we pulled on to the Dog Fence beach the following morning, we saw more fisherman than a winter trip to the Coorong! Most were fishing the nice looking gutter closer to the entrance, so we plowed on past, and into some really soft sand, but made it through no worries. We settled on a dark looking patch of water with some reef further out, which was creating a nice channel in front of it.
After setting up the tarp for some shade and shelter from the wind, we set up the rods and all casted out a fresh slab of salmon. Before Will required his first bait change, he was hooked on to a solid fish, and before we could get the camera's organised, he was already sliding a 96cm mully up onto the sand. A bloody good start, and gave us confidence about the gutter we'd set up camp in front of!
When the excitement of that fish wore off, Kym D got out the action kite and we had some fun screwing around with that. He then attached the GoPro to it, and got some awesome footage of our camp from up in the sky:
As the sun was setting, Will hooked and landed a huge dog shark, and then again hooked on to something even larger. He called large head shakes, and then no head shakes, and then definitely headshakes. Whatever it was, it was taking line down the beach and putting up a hell of a fight.Will put a heap of pressure on his rod to steer the mully away from the reefs, and soon we spotted a silver flash in the shallows. It was a big mulloway. He played it slowly and safely and waited for the right wave to push the huge fish up the beach. I grabbed it by the gills and slid it to safety. Will saw it was wasn't any chance of getting away now and let out a woohoo. There was jumping, clapping, and probably the odd high five or two between us all as I tried to snap off a few photos. In the fading light, getting the camera to focus was proving difficult. With a mulloway already in the esky, we'd have let this one go - but given it was easily the largest fish Will had ever caught, it deserved some justice in the photos. We decided to put it in the esky as well, and find some place to freeze it until we were on our way home. I grabbed out my flash and took a few pics that will no doubt be adorning the walls in Will's house soon.
Will's big mully - ~125cm long
After the excitement of that fish, we settled down and had some glow sticks out for any night action. I had a run and pulled in a good sized stingray - but it wasn't really the prize I was after!
The next day was quiet in terms of fishing. We saw that the left side of what we thought was a long running gutter was actually reefyness causing the dark blue water. This forced us to fish about 100 metres down the beach, making fetching a beer quite a journey. We did get the beach tent out to keep the bait esky cool and fished hard all day long. The weather was fine, but the fish weren't hungry.
Will landed a monster of a Salmon during the day, which the scales weighed in at just below 3kg. I think they must be broken because it was huge! That was the only thing landed until around 5pm though, when I noticed my line a long way sideways of my rod. I picked it up to check and felt some headshakes. It was an easy battle with an already exhausted bronzy. It's good to have at least one photo holding a nice sized fish, but I would have enjoyed a better battle.
When we woke up the following day, the gutter that had produced two mulloway was looking a lot shallower - sand had filled it in on the high tide overnight and we were restricted to a much smaller area to fish. We were really keen to fish the dog fence for a full 4 nights leading into the full moon, but accepted our fate and decided to pack up camp and move on. The plan was either to move down the beach to better looking water, or head straight to Tuckamore. With so many people fishing the beach on the way out, we didn't really want to muscle in next to anyone, so radio'd to each other that we'd just keep moving to Tuckamore and set up there for the full moon.
Whilst we were kind of disappointed to be moving away, it turned out to be a blessing. As we found out from other fisherman days later, a massive storm had blown through the area that same night and wiped out multiple campsites. Three metre swells washed up the beach and moved cars parked at camp sideways and washed gear out to sea. Down at Tuckamore where we were, we had very strong winds, but other than our tarp set up flapping around keeping us awake at night, we were relatively unscathed.
On the way to Tuckamore, I struck some trouble on the soft sandy track on the way in, slipped off the side and getting into a precarious position. The car was very tilted to the side, and the only way out was to back up, which would result in an even larger tilt. I edged up on the max trax slightly before we decided to tow it backwards with Will's hilux. This did the trick, and we were on our way again quite soon. We hit the beach soon after, and got about 80 metres in before Will's car bogged down. It was very shell gritty, and definitely going to be too hard to proceed, so we decided to camp back at the entrance. I tried to back up along the track but the slant of the beach had me sliding towards the water, and I soon gave up hope of getting out of there without assistance. The assistance was over at Will's car, which he'd managed to turn around, but was now having trouble going forward. With a lot of max traxing, we got the car back on to firm sand, and then did the same for my own car. Everyone was pretty exhausted from digging, so we cracked a coldy and watched the surf for 10 mins, before setting up shelter once again.
One thing was immediately obvious once we started fishing - there were plague proportions of these mini-Samson looking fish (I think they're called Sea Trumpeter, but we just called them shittys - far worse than c*#ts!). They were decimating our baits, and we were requiring a new slab of salmon practically every cast. Just to ensure our baits stood no chance at all, a few sand crabs were thrown in to the mix.
In the late afternoon Will had a large hook up, and sighted a huge shark out in one of the waves but soon busted off with nothing of his rig left. He then had a huge fight with a big black ray, which took some time to get in. Turned out that it was fouled hooked in the wing which would have made things more difficult. Once he was unhooked and released, Will's rod went off, and he pulled a fresh salmon in. Handy, since our baits were getting destroyed by shitties. As night fell, the wind dropped and it was the perfect night fishing weather. We stuck at it for a little while, but only Will got a run, and pulled in a nice Gummy shark which was then cooked up for dinner. You'll note the recurring theme of this day is that Will's rods kept getting runs, whilst every other rod, did not. Actually, that's the theme of the whole week! Kym A and myself are now used to this happening, but Kym D was left shaking his head in disbelief.
Kym wondering when his rod will get a bite
The next day Will must have hooked around 4 stingrays - even they were ignoring all other baits! The most humorous part about this was when Kym D went to gaff the ray in order to pull it up the beach for unhooking. He slipped and fell as a wave came in and sprung up in a panic as a ray swam around him. It wouldn't have been funny if he got a barb in his leg, but he didn't, so it was hilarious!
Will unhappy with the attention of stingrays
It was again a beautiful night for fishing, and we gave it a few hours (it gets dark really late over there) but once again, only Will got a run, and this time bringing in a very respectable Gummy. He hooked another massive Gummy soon after but this one snapped off and we called it a night.
After a quick fish in the morning for nothing more than an undersized mulloway (finally to someone other than Will, who didn't have a rod in at the time!) we ran out of bait, so had decided to head back to Fowlers for our final two nights, to clean up and maybe have one last crack at some salmon and mulloway.
We wanted to catch some fresh salmon for bait when we got back, and then hit up one of the beaches close to Fowleys for a final day session attempting to get a Mully. Unfortunately, the salmon once again weren't coming to the party (I did land a huge squid off though, which was destined for the dinner plate), so we opted to buy some pilchards and check out a spot within the bay itself.. We drove down the beach a number of km's but with an incoming tide and the beach being quite soft up high, we decided not to risk the cars. We turned around and set off to Cabbots beach. When we got there, the water looked very choppy and weedy, and to make matters worse, we'd left the rod holders back at the caravan park.
Plan C (D? E?) was to head back to Scotts beach and flick some lures / cast small baits in the shallows and see if we could get some Whiting or Flathead for dinner. Kym D managed to hook a Flathead on a soft plastic then devastatingly lost it in the shallows. Everyone besides me caught a good sized mullet though, so we all had our contribution for dinner.
Back at the park, we battered up our catch, and chopped up some potatoes into chips and had an awesome final meal of fish, squid, and chips. The only downer was running out of beer by about 6pm, but in hindsight, that was probably a good thing with all the packing still to be done, and a 10 hour drive ahead of us.
All in all, another great Far West trip. Three from three for legal mulloway in trips. It's pity Will has got every single one of them! Myself, I am shooting for the unwanted honour of most FWC trips without catching a legal Mulloway. Planning for 2013 will no doubt begin soon!
Two weeks ago, a quick message to Will about his availability to fish on an upcoming weekend was instantly replied to positively. The wheels were set in motion, and messages sent, and surprisingly, we soon had a big group of 6 people interested in coming. Not bad for a cold winter weekend.
At 11:30pm the night before leaving, Andy made one of his famous last minute decisions and decided to come along too. Luckily for him, Will's mate Tony was bringing his own car, which left a spare seat in Will's. So it was to be 7 blokes on one Coorong trip - the beers were set to flow.
At 8:30am Saturday morning, we pulled into Murray Bridge and met up with everyone for the final convoy down to Salt Creek, and soon we were airing down for the trip across the dunes. We heard good reports coming from further north, so spent a fair chunk of time driving up the beach, before settling on a decent looking gutter with a nearby area to set up camp.
After the long drive, the first move was to get the chairs off the roof rack, and a cold beer out of the fridge. Setting up camp and fishing rods was a distant third place for all but Will. As beer number two was being cracked open, there was some commotion coming from the beach and we looked up to see Will locked in a battle with a fish on the end of his line. We all raced over as a nice sized mulloway slid up onto the sand. It was clearly above the 75cm legal mark, but we raced off to get the measure just in case. It came in at around 80cm and was quite a fat specimen for it's size.
Not a bad result from the first cast of the trip! This had the rest of us scrambling through tackle boxes and fishing reels in order to get set up and fishing, and before long the beach was lined with rods all expectantly waiting. It took another hour and a half though before the next bit of action, and it was new comer Kym whose brand new Sensor Surf rod buckled over on to what was clearly something decent. He raced over and set the hooks in, and after a short battle, a good sized Gummy Shark was landed.
At this point we still hadn't set up camp or had anything to eat, so we broke back to camp and set up the swags, got the BBQ going, and unloaded the firewood.
The odd salmon was landed here and there, which were mostly used as fresh baits, but they weren't thick in numbers like we might have expected during winter. As the sun set, everyone gave up on the fishing, and moved back to camp to the warmth of the fire.
The following morning I awoke to a monster hangover and wrote off any chance of fishing in the morning. My decision to sleep in was worthwhile however, as when I finally got up I saw that the wind was blowing a gale and no one had landed a thing. My timing was spot on as Will pulled in a Gummy Shark of his own - the first of half a dozen or so he'd land in the next 24 hours. Unfortunately I couldn't replicate this.
The conditions were very windy, making casting hard, and keeping a line out harder. Kym managed to get a salmon, which kept Will in supply with fresh salmon fillets for bait. The gummies were lapping them up, whilst ignoring all other hooks as usual!
Tony had work commitments on Monday, so packed up and headed off soon after lunch time. The rest of us continued to fish, drink, or just generally stand around embracing the sand blasting.
As the rain started coming down hard, and our shelter long since destroyed by wind, I sat in the car watching Will's rod which was directly out in front of camp. It got a huge bite and bent forward as Will reached over to grab and strike. He turned around and looked back toward the car as if to say "this is big!" which was enough for us to get out into the rain and go have a look. Sure enough, another legal mulloway was on it's way in. Again, around the 80cm mark.
Two legal mulloway on the one Coorong trip was unprecedented until now - but within 15 minutes, that record got broken again as Will made it number 3.
Just before dark, Tony arrived back at camp. He'd managed to miss the turn off to the track behind the dunes, and got in some serious trouble on the beach as the tide was rising. He said he was stuck for a good three hours before the water actually hit his Hilux and lifted it out of the bog. With a heap of sticks from the dunes, he wedged them under the tyres and managed to get going again. He came back to camp rather than negotiate the rest of the track after dark!
The temperature dropped massively as the sun went down, and we were soon all huddled around the fire passing the port around. The radio crackled in and out of reception, but we did manage to hear the Crows get up!
The next morning Will continued his good run with a few more Gummy sharks, taking him up to 6 total, along with his 3 Mulloway. Obviously, he took home the Gashes once again in convincing fashion.
Six years ago, three fishermen set off on the inaugural "Gashes" trip and it's actually been nearly four years now that Will, Matt, and myself have battled it out alone for Gashes glory. And by battling it out, I mean drinking a lot of beer and hoping that a fish might take that bait we haven't checked for over an hour. Sani and Dana were also along for the trip in what I assume is the female version of the gashes, some kind of cooking competition.
Since the trip to Convention Beach last Easter proved popular, we set off again this year, a day early to beat the crowds and secure a good spot. That turned out to be a wise choice as camping spots close to the beach are very limited and and we were lucky to get close to the best gutter that formed on the entire stretch of sand too.
Matt must have been raring to have a fish, as it's not very often you see someone with a line in the water before Will.
That little spec on the beach is Matt - very keen to get a line out early!
The rest of us set up tents, put up the tarp for shade, and got lunch under way before setting up the rigs. I was way less prepared than normal - not even any premade rigs.
Spotlight fell off on the bumpy track
When we finally got our gear in order, Will and I set off in a direction more to the left of Matt, where a good looking gutter had formed amongst the rocks on the beach. It didn't take long for the gutter to produce, and we had a few mid sized salmon landed, and I managed to hook a decent flathead, a fish I always welcome on my hooks! (Apart from that time at Fowlers Bay when we were desperate for a salmon to use as bait)
The next morning, we awoke to strong winds, and our tarp shelter was struggling so much we opted to just take it down. Fine sand was whipping through camp and covering everything in its path making it a fairly uncomfortable day. The best place to be was actually down on the beach where the wet sand wouldn't get picked up so easy. Fishing was hard work, with massive sideways currents causing trouble.. lucky Will and his waders were nearby to rescue my line which became hooked on the rocks.
Amongst the troubles though, we did manage to land a few more salmon, some of which were kept for bait, and some which were destined for the fire that night.
The next morning, the wind had all but gone and we woke up to some stellar weather. Not having much luck on the salmon rod, I decided to chuck out the smaller rod with tiny hooks on, baited with little pieces of salmon flesh. I was quickly rewarded with a few mullet, which had Will racing back to camp to get his small rod too. We both cleaned up fish after fish of a variety of species - Mullet, Tommies, Salmon Trout and I scored another flat head too. One of the mullets was huge, measuring 35cm long and fat like a salmon.
After cooking up lunch, the Salmon decided to show up, and Will got on to them in big numbers. Our fresh mullet and tommy ruff baits were proving to be popular with many Salmon tails poking out the sand. Will even offered one to a nearby fisherman having no luck and he graciously accepted.
I hooked a big trevally on my surf rod - easily the biggest I've ever caught which I was wrapped about - but now I look at the photo, it doesn't seem as big as it did at the time.
Unusual catch on the surf rod
Matt managed to catch a large Flathead, but he took off its head before I could get a picture. The fresh baits were also popular with the local stingray population too, and at one point Will and I were both on to absolute monsters, and it is fair to say they monstered us!
Double Hookup! Me in the background with a bent rod also.
Will was first to break off with a massive CRACK sound, leaving him thinking his rod had snapped in half for a second. It was just his line though, which was now much lower on the spool.
I continued the battle with mine, but after a few minutes more, my line snapped as well, and then we had two spools in need of line replacement between us.
Will later in the trip hooked on to another sting ray, and again lost a lot of line.. this time the stingray swimming off with $50 of braid hanging out its gob. Determined not to lose this war, I switched over to my other reel loaded up with 50lb braid, and didn't have to wait long before the reel was screaming and line peeling off into the distance. I was quietly confident that this time I'd have it beached, but after ten minutes or so, the line snapped again - at least this time I got it all back, bar my leader (quite possibly my knot wasn't as good as I talked it up to be).
Defeated, I retired the 5120, and got back on to the salmon fishing - but the sting ray weren't done yet. My Penn 750ssm with 25lb mono this time cruising out to sea without slowing down. I knew this was a lost cause but picked up and started the fight regardless.. luckily the hooks pulled out quickly after and I got the whole rig back.
Cooking up a storm on the campfire
Its funny that some how I managed to not get a photo of a single salmon caught all weekend. We all got into quite a few, but Will well and truly got the most - he packed the esky before we set off home. They seemed to get bigger as the weekend rolled on too. They'd be up to 5kg by now
With Australia Day falling on the Thursday this year, a few of us got the Friday off to make an extra long weekend, and decided to head down to Yorkes. With most of the girls making the effort, it was one of our biggest attended trips in a long time. The plan was to head to Gleesons Landing, but upon arrival, we found all the good camp sites full up, leaving only some exposed sites available. With the wind blowing hard, it wasn't ideal. We'd also need to drive to any fishing destination rather than walking, so we thought instead to head up to Swincers Rock's and see what was going on there.
Swincers was empty except for one caravan, which had taken the only protected spot there. It was really windy here and no one was keen, so after some deliberation, we decided to head to the other side of the coast to the old favourite, Hillocks Drive. At least we knew there would be spots out of the wind there, even if we'd get blown off the beach fishing.
After obtaining permits and making our way along the coast searching for the best available site, Luke managed to get his car hung up on a little ridge between tracks. His rear right tyre wasn't getting any traction, so we got out to give him a push. In hindsight, just putting weight on that side of the car might have been a better option. With Andre at the back pushing, the rear wheel spun freely, until it was pretty much a burnout on dirt.. but the car edged forward before finally getting grip and lurched forward. At that same moment, Andre let out a scream and clutched his leg. We thought a small rock stung him at first, until we saw pulses of blood spurt out from his shin, and a large house brick sized rock near by. The tyre spinning had grabbed hold of this big rock and launched it out the back like one of those tennis ball serving machines.
Andre felt so nauseous from the pain, he even declined an offer of beer - and with that, all chances of him climbing down goat tracks to go fishing went out the window.
We pulled into our chosen camp site, and set up the tents, including Andre's newly purchased taj mahal sized abode, as he watched on, still in pain. I half expected him to jump up and run around once it was done.
Our Campsite - Nice and Shady!
With the wind still howling, it was a much better option to sit around camp and crack a few beers all day long. It wasn't until near sunset that I decided I'd head down to the beach to give the salmon a crack, and Luke, who had consumed a fair portion of a bottle of vodka, joined me. We made our way down the goat track to our favourite salmon location at Hillocks, and set up the rods. We both cast out, and then sat back with a few beers as the sun slowly set. Luke then decided the water looked good for a swim - despite it being rough as anything with the strong wind still strongly blowing sideways up the beach. In his drunkeness he looked like a corpse washing in and out with the tide. After an hour, I managed to get a salmon in, and as it was getting dark, shortly after we decided to head back to camp. I questioned Luke on his ability to climb back up the cliff, to which he replied "I'll be fine" and then stumbled backwards and fell into the sand. After he again rinsed him self off, we made a very shaky climb up the track, but eventually were safely back at camp.
The following morning, I was up before everyone and walking around camp with no one to talk to for awhile, so I decided I may as well hit the beach again. As I was about to leave, both Ali and Sani rose and came down with me, but the wind was blowing so fiercely, it was painful standing there as the sand punished our legs. The girls headed back to camp, and with no fish biting, and my hunger building, I followed a few baits later.
Back at camp, everyone was now up, and after some food was cooked up, a few beers were had to wash it down. As the first beer was emptied and thrown a distance away from the chairs.. it landed nearby a rock - and so a new game was born. "Beer Can Rock" we imaginatively called it - closest beer can to the rock about 6 metres away wins prestige. As a twist, if the wind blows your can away, your can no longer counts. This entertained for hours until Harry rocked up mid afternoon, followed by Matt and Sarah around dinner time. The game was still going strong, and the lead changed often as wind disrupted the cans and sometimes wiped the entire playing field clear. In the middle of the day, a small brown snaked slithered through the middle of camp, and right past my feet, which made me jump about 3 feet off my chair, it's tail disappearing into the bushes as I landed. Everyone adjusted their chairs slightly further away from the bushes after that, along with checking that all tent zips were done up.
An intense game of Beer Can Rock
Alisha displaying the "we're camped here" signal for the late comers
Again, as it approached sunset, we decided to head down for a fish, and this time it was Matt, Harry and myself. We didn't have a great deal of time before dark, and it was a solid little fishing session, as I pulled in 3 more salmon, and Matt and Harry 1 each. Harry's was quite a bit larger than the rest, probably nudging close to 3kg.
Crazy antics around camp with the nights catch
Matt and I had another morning session, and the wind had now died down, but we only got the one fish between us before becoming too hungry and deciding to head back up to camp. With the wind basically gone, back at camp was really warming up - so we decided to go off in search of a big rock pool I had heard about for a swim. As we walked over a dune on our way, without a rod between the lot of us, Matt and I spotted a suspicious looking black circle out in the water. "Couldn't be a salmon school here could it?" "does look like one" and we walked on anyway. As we got onto the beach, we saw a salmon jump out the water and then thought we have to run back to the car to get some rods. By time we got back to the school, we were boiling from the run, and probably preferring to now have a swim, but we launched out lures at this school and they just would not bite! We had about 30 casts at it each, but not even one touch, and as they moved further out we decided it just wasn't to be, and set off after the others who had walked on in search of the rock pool.
When we got there, we were greeted to a deep green water hole, with big rocks to jump off. It must have been about 12 feet deep in places. An awesome way to relax and cool down on a hot day. A few photo's were taken, and a few beers consumed, and then we made the trek back to camp.
Luke enjoying the rock pool
For the final sunset, all the guys, bar Andre, headed down to the beach in hope of another good session, but apart from Luke getting one solid bite that got off, it was all quiet, and before long we were back at camp for the final nights festivities.
Despite a reasonably late night, I was woken early by the sound of Matt heading off to go fishing - trying to nab a few salmon and steal away the Gashes no doubt. With the sun up, I wasn't likely to sleep much longer, so I set off in pursuit... and then we sat on the beach and didn't catch a thing.
Final Morning on my way to fish
And with that, we all set about packing up camp, including the humongous contraption that passes as Andre and Ali's tent, and the car was somehow loaded to the brim again, despite a few less cartons of beer in the back.
After a mostly uneventful 1.5 hours driving, I heard a flapping off some sort coming from my car. Flat tyre? Nope car is feels fine. Then BANG rear tyre explodes and all the rubber gets caught up in the wheel arch, causing the wheel to lock up and slide along until 100 metres later I finally come to a halt on the side of the road. A number of people stopped to see that we were okay, which was nice - but other than having to change a tyre in 35 degree heat in full sun, we were all fine. Finally back on the road and dripping with sweat, we stopped in at Ardrossan for an ice block, and then headed to home, wrapping up another awesome weekend.
The Gaff Ashes, or Gashes for short were made from an old wooden gaff that was burnt. The ashes are stored in a trophy that is presented to the best fisherman of each trip.
We travel all over South Australia on a regular basis, looking for the ultimate fish!
