One thing I noticed about Paul was he'd become as proficient and expert at working out the patterns and peculiarities of bait-fish as the predatory fish he pursued. I have also never met someone as skillful with a cast-net, and I've fished with some pretty decent fishermen. Apart from one single time (Dad was watching and anyone is excused for cracking under the scrutinizing pressure of his gaze) I never saw Paul throw a cast that wasn't a perfect circle, and even that one bad cast resulted in a couple of mullet. Perhaps the finest example of this was one particular hole above China wall that was about five feet in diameter and Paul managed to get his eight foot spread net into a perfect circle encapsulating the bait and not getting caught on the rocks around it, and all this was done from a bank about five feet above the water! If I don't mention it again, I couldn't have been more impressed with the bait gathering ability Paul showed. We were never without fresh live bait, not once.
Fishing wasn't particularly fast and furious but a healthy diet of annoying catfish kept us busy. We did get to see our first morning glory roll by. It wasn’t an especially impressive one but as the breeze blew by it at least blew away some of the sand flies. The morning glory is a famous cloud formation that forms in the gulf around September and October each year. It is a vast wall cloud that forms out in the gulf and they can be up to 100 km long and clearly visible from space. The clouds roll south and "suck up" all the low level clouds in their path. In fact, glider pilots from around the world congregate in Burketown for the chance to surf these giant, fast moving waves. Generally they only form early in the morning and sometimes you can get three, four or even more in a row of them. They can be very impressive sights.
Our First Morning Glory Cloud Formation
After a few runs, (dad's rod seemed to be the hot stick) Paul finally landed a chub-nosed salmon. That kind of explained the regular runs but few hook-ups because salmon are notorious for running with a bait and dropping it at the slightest hint of resistance. My first real excitement came when a rod screamed off and Paul ordered me to grab it. All we saw was a silver streak leap clear of the water behind a small mangrove tree, so coupled with the electric reel scream, hopes were high that we'd have our first barra. The fish carried on like it was possessed before finally coming to view in the green stained water. It was a queenfish that fought well beyond it's size. I was well pleased.
A Decent Queenfish that fought well Beyond itself
On that particular tide we score a couple of chub-nosed salmon, a couple of queenfish, catfish and had a small barra whack at one of the baits a number of times but failed to hook up. Close, but no cigar! We also caught a sawfish. This unusual looking fish is quite common and can grow to about fourteen feet in length. Although the one dad got wasn't a big one it had taken the bait well down and was bleeding heavily when we landed it, so we filleted it up and kept the saw, which would make a nice momento when it was dried.
The place was fairly typical of a mangrove creek, sand-flies, mosquitoes, that thick, heavy air and all of the pops and clicks and splishes and splashes. The place was alive with bait fish and herons and egrets and all the usual water birds. There are also so many brolgas around on the saltpans and wallabies and kangaroos were absolutely everywhere. The place felt like the far end of the earth and once the sun came up it felt as though it was the end of the earth that was closest to the sun. It was HOT so after the tide turned we headed back to the air-conditioning and regrouped.
Mum faithfully guarding Basecamp (A.K.A. "The Donga")
It mightn't look like much but the airconditioner was AWESOME!!!
The afternoon saw Paul and I head out to Escott crossing again. We checked the pots for cherapin, of which we got a few, and Paul rustled up some mullet with the cast net. We wandered down to a high, shady sandbar and floated out the baits. There was a small croc in the paper barks but we couldn’t see it, with only the characteristic call giving it away. Although it was a pleasant and relaxing way to spend an afternoon, the lack of fish and intense heat fueled a growing sense of frustration. When we got back to the donga I collapsed and slept pretty much through the night. Paul did head back to Escott for a night session but saw no more luck than we’d seen in the afternoon. It was starting to look grim. To add to the woes I developed a case of the squirts.
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