Natalya's Birthday at the Waterpark

It's Natalya's birthday and, as we did last year, we headed up to the indoor waterpark in Duluth for the celebration. The reason we head here is because it's roughly equidistant travel for us, Jessica's parents, and Jessica's sister and, of course, it's warm. After opening her presents from us and her Australian grandparents at our house, we set out for Duluth just after mid-day. The weather and road conditions were fine and we made good time. We stopped at the McDonald's in North Branch because Natalya wanted to play in the indoor play area. She climbed all through it for quite some time and wasn't intimidated by the other kids as she sometimes is. In fact, I think she had a great time there.

Natalya opening her present from her Wilkes grandparents

When we got to Duluth we immediately noticed it was much busier than it had been the year before, probably because it was a Saturday night this time and because it was newly opened last year. Our room was quite a walk from the waterpark but it was all enclosed so that was OK. Jessica's folks were a little after us, followed by Mandi a few hours later.
Natalya playing with Grandpa

Natalya checking things out with grandma

Natalya and mum having a good time


We enjoyed Natalya's favorite meal of tuna casserole and then headed over to the waterpark for some fun. Being three this year Natalya could enjoy it a little more and Jessica could do a little more because she wasn't pregnant. Natalya was still a little scared of the bigger slides but found plenty to entertain herself. As you might imagine, she wasn't happy when it was time to leave, even when told there'd be cake and presents.

Natalya blowing out her candles - get ready for take-off

The familyPresent opening and the cake ceremony was suitably exciting and the days festivities wore both her and her brother out. Pierce didn't like the water much but loved grinning at all the people. After a quick breakfast it was back to the waterpark for another session, then pack up and the trip back to Plainview. No fishing for me but it was fun watching Natalya enjoy herself. The weather outside the hotel was very much below freezing and a couple of feet of snow on the ground.
The main kiddies play area


Mandi and Pierce hanging out

Natalya enjoying a slideThe basketball master

First Ice

I finally cracked and got out there. I haven't been fishing for ages so I headed out to Frontenac Pond to see how the panfish bite was going. I had a pretty bad throat infection, so rather than risk giving it to my co-workers around Christmas I elected to stay away from work to give them a break, but I was too bored to just sit around the house.

I got on the ice about lunch time and it was at least six inches thick. Snow-mobiles and four wheeler tracks were everywhere so I knew the snow was safe for me to walk on. Belle (my youngest dog) and I pulled my sled out to the first drop off and drilled a few holes. I slipped my waxworm covered jigs down the holes and began the search. After drilling several hole I finally struck a reasonable bluegill. I quickly rebaited, then waited.................and waited...................and waited. Turns out it wasn't the hot hole I'd been looking for. One of the other holes gave me some information though. There was plenty of green weed coming up.

Belle and my sled full of Goodies


I drilled plenty of holes through the afternoon but only struck five bluegill. Finally Belle and I gave it away just after 4pm. There had been nobody else on the ice all afternoon (a bad sign) and a couple of guys had just come out onto the ice to start. Still, it was a nice sunny afternoon and the dog had been in desperate need of some exercise. Not exactly a stellar afternoon of fishing but at least I'd gotten out.

A shot of the upper end of the Lake (looking North)

Fun in the snow

Well, there isn't too much going on in our lives lately as we prepare for the upcoming Christmas season and try to recover from a busy last couple of months. Lately we have gotten a reasonable amount of snow and temperatures haven't been above freezing for several weeks. Still we have gotten out and done a few things, but no fishing.

Last weekend we have a local Plainview festical called "ye olde fashioned Christmas". There were reindeer and gingerbread house competitions and many of the local businesses had small things for the kids. Santa and Mrs Claus were there of course as well as the grinch, and Natalya's favorite, Elmo. The biggest attraction was sleigh rides through some of the town streets with various exhibits. The Lutheran Church had a full sized nativity scene, complete with live animals and people. There were bell-ringers, and band, choir, snowmen, chimney sweeps and lots of people in top hats and costumes. The whole thing would have been quite delightful except we'd had heavy snow during the day but it turned to sleet during the evening hours of the festival. Still, Natalya had a great time. Pierce just stayed warm under Jessica's jacket.

Today, while I was shoveling the driveway after another snow fall, Jessica and the kids got out to play a little bit. Natalya can now use the snowshoes she got last year and has been "teaching" me. The two kids got to sled a little bit and then Natalya pulled Pierce around a bit. All in all the kids had a good time. Afterwards it was nice to relax around a warm fire though.

No Worries Dad! - Natalya Snowshoeing a snowbank

Come on Mum, this is how you do it


I think we should go this way

Poor little Pierce wasn't too sure about things but he didn't complain

Getting Started

Well, despite the best intentions it has taken me this long to start a blog. I have intended to use this forum to document the fishing and other activities I've been up to, while not filling up everyone's inboxes with often unwanted fish porn. While fishing and other outdoor stuff takes up a big part of my life, the family remains the number one priority and it would be impossible for me to exclude them.

I have enjoyed quite a few fishing trips this year, ranging from numerous local excursions, to some long distance forays. Unfortunately many of the trips weren't as successful for me this year as last year, but there was still some good fishing to be had. As I get around to it I'll begin trying to post some of my more memorable trips in chronological order, and hopefully by the end of winter, I'll be caught up and I can begin updating things as they happen.


This year saw my return home to Australia for a few weeks to visit family and try my hand at the barramundi fishing around Burketown. That was an awesome trip with highlights that transcended just the fishing. Without a doubt, that was my favorite trip of all time and I'm sure I'll enjoy jotting down the highlights here from the more detailed journal I kept. Just prior to the Australia trip saw a successful pink (humpy) salmon trip to Minnesota's north shore and a king (chinook) salmon trip to South Eastern Wisconsin in which we encountered tough conditions but still touched some fish. Crossing the Pacific back to the onset of winter took some getting used to but I managed a reasonably successful trip back to Southeastern Wisconsin for some Lake-run brown trout and coho (silver) salmon fishing.

Although it needn't be said, all of this piscatorial embellishment barely registered in light of the year's true highlight - the birth of my son, Pierce Mark Wilkes on August 15th. Now, in collaboration with his big sister Natalya and my wife Jessica, the pull of the rivers and lakes meets forceful resistance at home.

As I write this the land outside is changing. The fall runs of fish have all but ended and the fish that are entering the tributaries are doing it under a ceiling of ice. The lakes and many rivers are freezing solid and we should be walking on them in no time. Even the deer have finished rutting and are slipping away to feed up and recover from the rigors of breeding, and perhaps ponder the season of plenty that has just passed. The weekend saw our first decent snow storm of the year dumping around four or five inches of snow and sleet in our part of the state and around twenty inches of snow up north. Temperatures have been well below freezing for weeks now and this morning the temperature registered two degrees Farenheit as I drove into work at 7:30am. If this isn't winter it sure feels like it.

As for me, after shoveling the snow, I've been sitting by the fire and tying flies for one last tributary trip that we had to cancel last weekend. Now I'll just have to focus on the flies I'll need a bit later. In two weeks it's my daughter's birthday and we'll be heading up to an indoor water-park in Duluth. Although it is almost impossible I'm hoping for a miracle and somehow be able to slip away for a couple of hours and try to catch an elusive (for me at least) looper but it will be hard to pull myself away from Natalya's joyous screams and birthday revelry.

Sheboygan River, November 19th-20th 2007

After getting back from Australia only a week or so before I had just about acclimated to the colder weather, so it was time to dig right in. Jessica has been involved with a group of mothers on an internet forum for quite some time and one of the ladies from North Carolina was visiting family in Sheboygan and Jessica had been invited to visit. What a lovely coincidence! It's not too often that Jessica and I both want to visit the same location, even if the purpose of our visits don't exactly overlap. Still, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so I worked Saturday and Sunday to give me time off for the next couple of days.

Fall rainfall had been pretty non-existent in Southeastern Wisconsin and as the posts on "the steelhead site" will attest, fishing has been pretty tough as a result. Still, despite the low water the weather forecast called for light drizzle and cloudy conditions so I thought I just might have a chance at some cohos, lake-run browns and even some early steel.

The drive across took quite a while with the family along and we made it to the river a little after midday. Jessica dropped me off at the river and as I wondered down to a favorite hole I noticed another angler tied into a fish. I watched for a while and he soon landed a king that hadn't been in the river too long (well it wasn't black anyway). He didn't try to pretend it had been caught fair but from where he was standing I can only wonder how he expected not to foul fish in that run that was around ankle deep. Anyway, I happily moved along upstream to a deep hole I've always thought looks great but have never been able to pull a fish from. I've seen all manner of big fish cruising about but never tempted them to tangle with me for a few minutes.

I swung streamers down and across then switched to nymphs all with the same result. I headed upstream through the shallows and there were a few fresh redds but I couldn't see any fish on them. Mostly I saw old redds abandoned by the dead kings strewn along the bank. My plan was to walk upstream towards the Kohler property in the hopes that the low water might
expose some holding water that would be overlooked by anglers fishing their traditional spots. Unfortunately I came across only a couple of reasonable riffles and the rest was junky water. On one redd there was a salmon on it but he'd been in the river a while. I slipped over to slip my Moal leech past him and he refused it each of at least a dozen times. Finally, I let it dead drift and stop in front of him, first two feet in front, then about a foot and finally about six inches. I swear he moved forward and slurped up the fly but I was too slow on the uptake. It took another few casts before I got a similar drift on him and again he gently moved across and forward to sip the stationary fly. I set the hook and he slowly pulled forward in the usual zombie way of a stale old fish. The only time he showed some life was when he noticed me perched over him leaning my paws in to grab him. Finally though he had enough life in him to pull the hook and, although you always want to land a fish if you think it might be your only chance for the trip, I wasn't going to loose sleep over a half dead salmon.

I walked clear into Kohler property and sighted very few fish. I did hook a nice smallmouth bass that had vivid colors - almost tiger-like but that was it. With the heavy cloud cover it got dark quickly and I made my way back downstream. The fisherman I'd noticed when I first arrived was still working a group of nervous kings as night fell. I talked to him as I waited for Jessica's return and he informed me he'd caught three fresh kings and a 32 inch steelhead during the day. If he did I congratulate him!

It was nice to have a nice hotel room to return to, full of family and that was something I'm not used to when in Sheboygan. Normally my buddy Ted and I stay at another motel but because we had the dogs with us we needed a pet friendly place. Turns out this place also had a heated pool and hot tub, which was awesome for those aching shoulder and back muscles (funny how I don't remember those muscles getting sore when the fishing is good). We had it all to ourselves that evening.

Jessica and Natalya swimming in the pool

Little Pierce hanging out with DadAh, the hot tub! Picture me in the far corner and that's how I spent a big chunk of the evening
Next morning I was on the river early with a new plan. With the water being so lo I intended to fish downstream. I began at the same hole as the day before and after a half hour or so nymphing I hooked into a king that tried to put on a show but just couldn't. I never saw the fish so I can't tell for sure but I suspect he might have been foul hooked. After ten minutes or so the hook pulled and I was once again fishless.

I headed downstream and noticed a lot of fresh, large redds. There were a few fish about but they were spooky. Mostly I just saw tired old kings but a few cohos were about. When I got to a favorite hole I saw a huge brown actively working on a shallow redd. The fish was chrome and was every bit of 30 inches and then some. When it would quiver it's back came out of the water and it wouldn't have taken much to snag it but I also noticed another "smaller" brown zipping in and out from the surrounding fast water and occasionally bumping the spawner. My heart raced and I felt I had a good chance at that fish. A few drifts later and the fly stopped. Amazingly when the big fish wasn't quivering I couldn't really see it, even in the shallow water so I didn't see how or where the fly lodged on the fish. Either way the chrome monster was hooked and just from the fight I could tell the fish wasn't hooked in the mouth. I cursed myself as I waded through the holding water trying to get to the fish on the end of my line. If nothing else it would be a beautiful fish for a photo. Fittingly though, this fish also came undone after a few minutes.

While I was fighting the fish an older gentleman wondered down to check things out. He must have lived locally and claimed to have fished every day in the fall. The largest brown he'd caught had been a 39 inch fish (and I believe him) and he'd said he'd caught at least one fish everyday this fall. We spoke at length after I busted off the large buck and he provided me a lot of insight about the river. He fished the tail-out above me hooked into a large brown on a green caddis but, as he'd mentioned previously, they just weren't taking well this morning.

I went back to working my spot, as I tried to think of a new plan after busting up the redd by taking off the spawner. Suddenly I noticed the same fish I'd been targeting slip up onto the redd. I could identify him by the white mark on his forehead. As soon as I got a drift with two feet of him he zoomed over and smashed my (you guessed it) green caddis. He screamed off upstream, then downstream jumping once and then again. Unfortunately the second time he jumped he had already liberated himself from my line (damn fluorocarbon knot strength) and I was left flabbergasted. That was not a pleasant feeling. The fish turned out to also be in the 30 inch class but was darker than the earlier spawner. Perhaps this fish had been in the river and feeding on eggs for a while. Either way he was gone. I watched other fish dance around the darker holding water but by this time the sun had peeked over the trees and I couldn't entice another strike.

I moved up to where the older guy had fished to see what it was that made it worthwhile to him. I'd walked past it just that morning and thought nothing of it. On closer inspection the logs on the side provided good cover and a fresh redd was dug. Also, there was a deeper trough just a few feet from the redd. Above it was shallow, still water but it just goes to show you need to pay attention to details, particularly on heavily fished rivers like this one. As I watched I noticed a shadow, that divided into first two and then three. Tightly snuggled against the logs were three cohos. It looked as though the two males were sparring and I've had reasonable success targetting kings in similar situations.

It was tough going getting a good drift and this time I fouled the female. She pulled forward about twenty feet before the hook pulled. It didn't disrupt things too badly but the remaining fish slipped slowly back into the dark water behind the redd. Ten minutes or so later the pair of males were back and once I got a good drift amongst the logs the larger male moved forward opened his mouth in slow motion and almost let the fly glide into his mouth. I set the hook and the fish gave a good account of itself. Certainly a different type of fight to a king with more surface antics. The fish certainly wasn't fresh but not in bad shape and the kype was only beginning to form. Still, it was my first coho and not a bad way to start.


That gave me a sense of satisfaction but didn't take away the sting of losing that big brown. I slipped the fish back in the hopes that he'd at least get to spawn before his end and not wanting to disturb the redd too much I moved upstream. Walking streamside I noticed another polished up redd with what appeared to be a large brown actively spawning. It was very shallow water and tight casting but the large shallow redd fed into a deep still pool with overhanging branches resembling a beaver dam. I figured there just had to be a big brown or steel lying in there sipping eggs as they floated downstream. If drifted and drifted and drifted to no avail. Finally I decided to cast up behind the spawner and drift it across the shallow redd so it would drop off into the deeper stuff. First drift the line stopped in the middle of nowhere and then cut a line through the water as a fiesty fish raced off. I didn't see the fish and as I fought it I disrupted the spawner and noticed quite a contingent of smaller fish hanging about the big fish. I soon had to hand a nice little lake-run brown (there are no resident fish in this river).

Amazingly the spawner didn't leave but did become pretty spooky. I did target him and I watched as my flyline pulled through his kype and the hook lodged. A flossed fish is legally caught but to me, a fish snagged in the mouth is no less snagged than one snagged in the butt so I'll take no credit in hooking this fish. Yes, my big brown turned out to be a coho and it put up the fight you might expect from an actively spawning fish. I tightened up the drag and, fittingly, the hook pulled. A few minutes later and Jessica pulled up and we were on our way back home. All in all, not a great trip but certainly one that taught me a fair bit and fueled my fire to pursue big browns in the future.

Australia Visit - Day 20 - Goldsborough

Well, even though my flight is in a few hours, there's always time for one last fishing session. Just south of Cairns is a river that our family has fished for years and it holds many good memories for me. From the adventurous, sleep-on-rocks and chicken-crimpy-eating flyfishing treck my brother and I made to quick afternoon outings during college breaks the river has always given up fish and memories. Paul had to begin his long drive back out to Richmond so left the session to dad and I.

The best past of fishing the upper Mulgrave River is the extremely limited fishing pressure it receives. Most people in the region either fish the reef or the estuaries and almost nobody bothers with the freshwater rivers and creeks. These rivers are full of sooty grunter, jungle perch and tarpon, with the occasional small barramundi or mangrove jack. This is as close to trout fishing as it gets here, and is very similar to smallmouth bass fishing back in Minnesota. In fact, if I had to compare I'd say rivers that primarily yield sooty grunter (like the Mulgrave) are closer to nutrient-rich smallmouth rivers, whereas rivers full of jungle perch (like the Mossman) are more nutrient poor and more similar to mountain trout streams.

Anyway, as per usual, there was nobody fishing the river when we arrived. We decided to try small spinners to start with and if things looked good we'd switch to flies. The river looked as though I'd never left it, which is about the only thing that hadn't changed on the trip. There was certainly a feeling of time closing in, now that Paul was gone and knowing I had that 28 hour journey in front of me was always on my mind. Still, it was great to throw a few lures around with the old man down at his River.

One thing my father (with help from an old mate) has done is observe, and now fish, a large mayfly hatch that occurs during evening hours just prior to the wet season. The problem is, very few people fish flies here, and those that do through big whistlers and deceivers for saltwater species on 10 weight outfits. Obtaining fly tying materials and outfits to fish natural nymphs and even dries. The guys at the tackle stores just laugh when he says he needs hooks in sizes under 2/0! Still, with nobody else doing it, it's a niche that gets no pressure and dad and his mate have had some stellar evenings catching tremendous numbers of large, feisty fish. Our hope was to sample some this evening.

We scored on a few smaller sooties with spinning gear and pound for pound I'm sure they have more go in them than a smallmouth bass but the real pleasure was just being out on the stream. I was yearning to roll a fly over though. When we got down to the big pool, the old man spent quite a bit of time turning over rocks examining the nymphs and life living on them. He reasoned there was quite a few about so it was time to head to the flyfishing spot.
Upstream from the big pool

The old man turning over rocks in the big pool

At first glance it didn't look like much of a fly spot. Reminiscent of a pool a trout fisher might focus on when fishing the famous Hexagenia hatch, it was a still, featureless pool with a mix of stones and silt for a bottom. Light was beginning to fade and I saw next to no surface life and I asked dad when to expect things to happen. He replied, "when light gets too dark for a video camera to work" suggesting the reason he'd never sent me any footage of his exploits. Although I've never had any reason to doubt my father's word I sat and watched this lifeless stretch of water with some reservation. Suddenly, just as it got dark enough that birds flying around appeared as silouettes, boils began to ring out across the surface as fished sipped emergers just beneath the surface. These boils became more frequent and we were soon hip deep in water, casting to rises.

A couple of the Sooty Grunter we caught on mayfly nymphs

It didn't take long once I followed the advice I'd been given to let the fly dead drift (I had general nymph pattern tied by my father that resembled a dark, skinny hex nymph). A few seconds after I'd dropped my fly by an earlier swirl the line jumped and a fair sized sooty screamed off. It was an aggressive strike and a lively battle that tested the 5 weight outfit. There was no moon and darkness enveloped us fairly quickly. The fishing wasn't red hot but the action was steady and we each landed a half dozen or so fish in the hour or so before we decided we'd better get back for my final dinner before flying out. We took a couple of fish home as well as they're not bad table fair. After a delightful final dinner, we took a relaxed drive out to the airport and I think I was asleep before we'd taxied to the runway.

Supporting stars, Dad and Mum

All in all it had been a fantastic trip. Just seeing Paul and his family was the highlight and although the barra fishing wasn't as great as it could have been, all the other stuff that happened in Burketown would have outshone any number of fish anyway. I was especially impressed with Richmond, and the towns out west in general - truly God's country. It's always great to catch up with family and we packed a whole heap of stuff into a short time. The only regret I have is not catching up with my good mate Dave, but I can probably rectify that in the not too distant future. I don't know about anyone else but I'll sleep for a month. I am scared about going from hot (45 degrees Celcius/115 Farenheit) to cold (-5 degrees celcius/20 Farenheit) and I hear it's already snowing back in Minnesota. I guess I have to come up with something amazing for when he visits me - perhaps Alaska or British Columbia, either way it will be a hard ask to come close to this trip. My greatest thanks to Paul for all his work and efforts. Without him the trip wouldn't have been even half of what it was.

Paul, the superstar of the Trip

Visiting family was great and I thank all of them for the great time they showed me. Paul's co-workers were great, especially Brad and Pete that we spent extra time with. Everyone would be more than welcome to stay with me any time they find themselves close to Minnesota.

Australia Visit - Day 19/20 - Visiting Grandparents

One of the main objectives of the Australia trip was to visit my grandparents. Both are getting older and one (on my mother's side) is beginning to suffer the effects of Alzheimer's Disease. Although I'd spoken on the phone it had taken me almost three weeks to make it over to visit my Grandma Maconachie. Due to her failing eyesight she is now living at an assisted living home where she has plenty of facilities and people to spend time with. It was a little strange seeing her in such a place because she'd always been such an independent and very able lady that was always on top of things.

I wasn't sure what to expect and was a little apprehensive about visiting as my brother and I has gotten to see her most every day growing up and I remember her from those days. There has been a lot of water under the bridge since then and it's a disease that can really change someone.

After a few minutes though I was relieved. She's still the same lady she was, albeit a little less sure of herself, but I was pleasantly pleased with how well she recalled things. It was good to visit and a shame I couldn't spend a little longer catching up. It would be much easier if I lived closer and I'm sure my kids would enjoy getting to know her. I hope she enjoyed our visit though and I'll try to be better at staying in contact.


My Grandma Maconachie


Mum, Grandma and Me


The next morning, before the sun came up, we were on our way up the Kuranda range towards the town of Mareeba in order to visit my other grandmother (Nanna). She is still living in her own house and appears to be doing very well. Her mind was as sharp as ever but she is having a little trouble with her knees and uses a walker a little. Talking with her was like a day hadn't passed. She has always taken care of her health and done yoga and I hope I'm in as good a shape when I'm her age. Again, it was a good visit, but time was pressing and it would have been better if we'd have had more time. She always has good stories to tell of the old days back in England and when they first came over to Australia. With Paul having a long drive back to Richmond ahead of him and my catching my flight that evening we left just after lunchtime. Even though they were both too short, catching up with my grandmothers was another highlight of the trip.

Dad, Nanna, myself and Paul in Nanna's living room


The front of Nanna's house


Out the back of Nanna's

Australia Visit - Day 18/19 - Cairns Inlet

After a long day of driving from Richmond to Cairns, via Townsville, we were tired - very tired. Oh yeh, we'd also jammed a whole lot into a short time in Burketown and Richmond so you could almost see our backsides dragging on the ground. Still, Paul had come in to Cairns to catch Mangrove Jacks and the best tide just happened to be about 1am (YEP, after driving all day we were going to stay up all night). The oldies retired to the comfort of their bed for the evening but Paul had the boat hitched up and by about 10pm we were stopped at the servo (gas station) for fuel and cigarettes and watched a bunch of teenagers parade around high on speed or something. Paul almost stepped on a syringe wrapper as he stepped out of the vehicle and apparently that's all too common around Cairns these days.

After that we were off to get live bait. No live bait sold around here so if you want it you have to get it yourself. It's been a long time since I've cast a cast-net after bait and I have to confess having never been much good at it, but assuming I'd be put on trial during the trip I'd practiced quite a bit back home in Minnesota and gotten to be at least reasonable. Still, considering my brother and father's high standards I wasn't volunteering myself for ridicule unless I had to so as long as Paul was willing I'd stand back and admire.

When we pulled up at his "mullet spot" Paul quietly told me to stay in the truck, handed me a serious knife, and told me to stab first and ask questions later if somebody jumped in the vehicle or gave us some trouble. It was a small tidal tributary of the Cairns inlet and we were up behind the showgrounds, not far from a vagrant village (read slum) and in an area known for trouble after the sun went down. We were downstream from a spot I was more familiar with and Paul told me he doesn't chase bait there anymore because he gets too many used syringes in his net, although he still had to keep a keen eye out where we were now, (gotta love the city Cairns has become).

Watching Paul with a cast-net was inspiring. He knew where the bait would be, snuck up perfectly undetected and, at the last instant, popped up and had the net falling over the fish in a perfect circle before I could blink. I doubt there are many guides out there as knowledgeable and skillful when it comes to obtaining bait. After a few minutes we had all the bait we'd need and were off to the ramp.

Driving in we kept an eye out for broken glass (indications of cars having been broken into recently) and were happy to see none. Still we made sure nothing of value was left in the car. Paul had the boat in the water in no time and it was obvious he had done this so many times he had a flawless, easy system. Again, I just sat back and did what I was told. There was no moon, no other trailers were at the ramp and Paul calmly steered us towards the myriad of mangrove creeks feeding into the back of the Cairns Inlet.

Paul had one spot in mind for the particular tide and, again with meticulous precision, quickly had the boat positioned perfectly between three goods snags on an attractive point with our two anchors positioning us in the tidal current. Almost as efficiently, Paul had five rods out strategically positioned in the paths of the fish that would be shortly moving through on the tide. He even made the call that we'd have a jack in the boat in the upcoming thirty minutes. Now, I have to clarify something here. Plenty of people (perhaps most people) go out fishing and only hope that maybe they'll get a jack in the course of a trip. Many, if not most times there are no jacks caught so calling fish is a pretty cocky thing to do.

Sure enough though, we'd barely settled into the relaxing silence of laying back and watching the quivering rod tips when a reel SCREAMED off. Mangrove jack are noted for the initial run which is often from a fish that is already running straight into a snag. Just from the reel Paul called it as a jack and he was right. The tenacious fighter was a good omen and the tide had only just started to run. He was a touch under size so was quickly released. A little later it was my turn and once I picked up the rod the fish was already well and truly hooked. The tackle we were using was stout to ensure we'd have a chance if the fish got into snags or a barra jumped on, but even on 20 and 30 lbs line these fish fight and fight and fight. I'd only caught big jacks on the reef from deep water with heavy handlines where the fight is somewhat muffled so it was a pleasant revelation catching this guy up in the mangroves.

My first Mangrove Jack of the night. You'll notice that after the heat of Burketown I was rugged up in the chilly (it's all relative!!!) 20+ degree C (70 degree F) night air.

A little later my rod (I must also mention that Paul generously allowed me to take the three rods attached to baits swimming in the most likely spots) bent over again, this time to a slightly better fish and then again to another good sized jack. Oh yeh, did I mention there was also non-stop action with "junk" fish such as catfish (between 5 and 10 pounds) and Paul "scored" a big old shark (about a five footer). Still, they don't count. For whatever reason Paul somehow managed to drop five probably jacks. Sometimes things just don't go your way. I did tighten up the drag slightly from the way he'd set them on my rods but I doubt that accounted for the difference.
The Biggest of my three Mangrove Jacks for the night

That's some REALLY GOOD eating right there.

Now, those of you that know me know I'm usually a catch-release guy, but I'm not strict about it, especially when the fish taste as good as these guys. For any Americans reading this, they are the same genus as your Red Snapper and I think they taste even better than that. For the Aussies, they are the same genus as both Red Emperor and Fingermark Reds, so that's some pretty good blood lines, when it comes to taste and fighting ability.

We fished through dawn, which was spectacular, but caught only catfish. Our baits were being constantly attacked by tiddlers and when Paul finally boated a small barracuda we knew we were done. When the tide had been at it's best there was so much commotion with bait jumping and big swirls and sploshes all over the place it was almost surprising we only had three jacks in the esky (cooler) but it could have easily been more.

Dawn looking south towards Yarrabah from the western end of the Cairns Inlet



We fished again, this time with the old man, the following night but apart from a good jack boated by Paul the results weren't as good. Still it was great to get out see Paul's old stomping grounds and he still had the jacks pretty well dialed in.

Paul getting a photo of a snag he's woken up to many times in the past, just before we pulled the anchors and headed back to the ramp.

Australia Visit - Day 16-18 - Last days in Richmond

I was woken up bright and early by Mitchell so we headed down to the Park in the center of town. We played on the swings and see-saws for a while and then came home via the cannons in the park across from the family house. When we got back it was time for breakfast and then I took the kids down by the lake to fly their kites.

The old man with his new-best-friend at Breakfast


It was a good, steady breeze for it and I especially liked Laura's parrot kite and she could make it perform cool tricks. We couldn't stay too long as I'd promised to take the kids to the Museum. Richmond has a lot of dinosaur fossils and there is a museum in town. It's quite expensive so I was happy when Kylie (my brother's wife) got us in for free with her local connections. The kids were a bit bored with things as they'd seen it all before so I couldn't spend too long looking at things. I was amazed at the amount of stuff that has been uncovered out there. Apparently, every time there's a big rain some cattle of sheep farmer that's out with his stock uncovers new, amazing finds. I think the kids enjoyed it to but I think the main attraction was the milkshakes I'd promised afterwards and picking out gifts from the gift shop.

Laura and Mitchell outside the Dinosaur Museum (Kronosaurus Korner)

This is actually how the fossil came out of the ground after a rainstorm

Another high quality Fossil

In the afternoon we all headed down to the lake so the kids could catch some little grunter and things on bait. After a dozen or so fish the kids tired of that and enjoyed themselves swimming.
We sat and watched the sun set over the lake while some locals zoomed around the lake waterskiing. On the way home we stopped by the sub-yard just outside town where Paul explained to me a little about what all the things are, where the lines are coming from and how and why the voltages are changed. We then did a quick zip around town as he pointed out some of the things that people just don't notice but are essential to delivering power. It really was quite fascinating and I reckon I could get into it. When we got home Paul showed me some of the texts he's had to learn and certainly, playing around with electricity isn't something that should be tackled by someone without a brain. It was also great to see Paul enthusiastic about something, and clearly with a very good understanding of his job.

Kylie running away from the camera as the sun sets over Lake Fred Tritton

The Sub-yard out of Richmond

When I was little I loved the movie "the man from Snowy River" and always remembered the scene where they ate wallaby stew. As a result I had always wanted to eat wallaby stew, a desire that hadn't been fulfilled in my 31 years. However, never had I been in a location with so many wallabies and kangaroos around, so that evening we headed out with the .22 rifle and a spotlight to bring a childhood dream to reality. We headed down along the (now dry) Flinders River and it actually took us a while to find a suitable roo that stayed close enough to ensure a good shot. After field dressing the animal (and you get a surprising amount of meat from a roo) we headed home where the girls slipped away while it was boned out and dressed. We would have our wallaby stew and the dog would eat like a king, but first some sleep.

The most essential ingredient in Wallaby Stew

One of the guys Paul works with (Pete) runs a cattle station just outside town. I can't remember the dimentions now but it's a fair chunk of land, especially by American standards (I think 20 000 acres). He invited us out to have a look and because I've not spent much time around cattle I was eager to check it out. When we got to the first gate it was clear that the old man couldn't help himself, he had to do all the gates. I wouldn't have minded doing at least a few (just to say I'd done it) but anyway....... When we got to Pete's house he was just finishing up some stuff and his old horse (18 year old) came up to check us out. He was a fine old man and he knew this place was his and he wanted to check us out. The kids loved giving him a pat and I think he liked it to. I'm sure he'd done his share of mustering in his day.

Mum and the Kids with Pete's old horse

All Aboard

The plan was we'd accompany Pete as he checked the waters around the property. The old man and I rode with Pete in his vehicle while Paul followed with mum and his family. We got to see the place and I learned a heap. You somehow know there's much more to running cattle than you think, but it was fantastic to actually learn a little bit of it. The old man and I alternated between sitting up front in the cab or in the back with his Border Collie. It was an awesome experience and one I'd do again in a heartbeat. It sure wouldn't be an easy life but it just has to be much better than any city job. I'm sure it can be a lonely place at times but, as Pete says, behind his place is a great place to lay and watch the sunset, then the stars while sinking a few beers with your horse and dog. I reckon that sounds pretty bloody fantastic. I could write for a month on just this few hours but I'm sure I couldn't do it justice so I'll just leave it by saying it was definitely one of the highlights of the trip (and not a fish in sight!!) and Pete is a top shelf bloke and I'm guessing a good cattleman. Check out the movie of a couple of roos keeping up with us in the truck at the bottom of this post.

Checking the Waters

Checking the windmill
The old windmillSpinning the Wheels

Cattle Yards

In the afternoon Paul took me down to the Flinders River to show me the spud gun he and Brad (another workmate) had built. Unlike ost spud guns I've seen that fire parts of a spud, this one fired the whole thing, and fired it a couple of hundred meters. Now that is an awesome spudgun. According to Paul, he and Brad had been riding motorbikes and shooting them at one another and when he finally hit Brad the poor bastard was in pain. I believe it. The good thing about Brad is that he doesn't seem to let things get to him and he seems like a good bloke to hang out with when you want to have some fun. That evening we headed over to the picnic area at the lake for a BBQ of wallaby steaks and wallaby stew but I think the stresses of the trip were wearing on everyone so it was a relatively early retreat to the beds for the morning would see the drive back to Cairns.

We were on the road fairly early but Mum, Kylie and I did get to accompany the kids off to school in the morning. It has that distinctive Queensland primary school look and feel and I think both kids like attending, although perhaps Laura likes it a little less than Mitchell. I heard later that Laura actually got an award at assembly that morning so that is good. Both kids are good kids and I had a great time with them. It's a shame I see them so infrequently.

The Richmond Primary School


The drive home was a long one but we did get to finally sample the famous "Hughenden Pie". It was worth the wait and was easily the best of the trip (and I sampled quite a few). Paul even had us stop at a small rest-stop with an unusual sign: "I love Nola". It's not exactly a common name (it's our mother's name) so wondered if the old man had done it. Turns out he hadn't but it was worth getting a photo.

The water tower
A road-train from the mines

As we drove along the coast from Townsville to Cairns it brought back plenty of memories from my university days when I'd make the trip between the two places. It seemed to be very little changed and the coastal hills seemed like Montana mountains after the plains from out west. The farmers were out harvesting the sugar cane and the mills were all in operation. The last couple of hours dragged on and it seemed longer than twelve hours. After a quick dinner Paul had me out on the boat in the inlet. No rest for the wicked.

The old barra honey hole "smelly-croc" near Ingham