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Trevally Travels 1.5


This was supposed to be the fantastic enlighted follow up article to Trevally Travels. Unfortunately the fish had different plans...

Trevally suck.

I don't mean this in any specific way such as trevally suck shrimps, crabs or flies. No they just suck, that's all. It took me one month to discover this fact.

One month of getting up before dawn. Fighting mosquitoes. The humidity. And all for what? One lousy baby trevally which took when I was explaining the finer technical points of spinning to a woman, in the manner in which only someone who knows absolutely nothing about mechanical retrieves can. And one miserable flathead, which I took by complete accident.

Bum cast

It was a bum cast: the fly hit the beach on the backcast, just missed my ear, and took a dogleg to the right, where it landed in six inches of water and was promptly swallowed by a ten inch flatty.

I spent the first month in Noosa, nice place, wrote about it, trevally are known to live hereabouts and so it sucks. So I drove on up to Tin Can Bay. Of course, I wouldn't go anywhere near a place called Tin Can Bay in England, because I know exactly what I'd catch there, but in Australia, a name like this plays with the imagination. You see it written on the map and you know that you've just got to go and check it out. You tell yourself that you haven't lived until you've fished Tin Can Bay. And so I went.

It's quite a nice sort of place as far as this sort of thing goes; there's a bay, with some water, a few houses and some other stuff. I was informed that the best time to fish the place is on the flood, and so I arrived with high tide (the way I do). I was there, the tide was there and hopefully a few fish would be there; a meeting of possibilities.

Stingrays

So I found a spit and worked my way out to the deeper water. I guess I had gone about four or five hundred yards, with water up to almost where it would have been uncomfortable, when the first stingray passed me. Basically when you're in Australia everything is dangerous. It's that sort of country. However stingrays I am pretty sure won't bother you very much, so long as you don't annoy them. So when another five passed me by I pretended to ignore them. That is until, of course, I hooked one.

I can't tell you if it was a fair and square hooking or a bit of a foul up; I can tell you, however, it was both unintentional and unwanted. I was unsure as to my next move, but I noticed the gathering crowd upon the beach, and so acted as if I had total control, until it dawned on me that perhaps if I did get this monstrous thing any closer it might attack me. And so after a little bit of a show I lost it.

Then the sea-snake swam passed me. I don't know how well informed about life you are, but let me explain something about sea-snakes; they are mean sons-of-bitches: deadly and aggressive; sea snakes don't need annoying: they are annoyed. I got out of the water: I don't need this sort of hassle in my life, I've got enough problems as it goes, what with women and trevally and bills, there's just no room for anything else.

Make your own luck

It was time for a change. You've got to make your own luck, or so everyone tells me. So I went north. The original plan was to do this with 'small navigational water-craft', otherwise known as 6ft dingy. In general conversation with the owner of said fishing platform, while trying to screw the price down, he asked what I intended to do with it.

'Catch fish', said I. 'Where?' (said he). 'North'. 'Wouldn't do that'. 'Why?'. 'Crocs'.

As you can see it was a fairly involved conversation. It's like that in Aussi, you know; you meet someone, say hi, and there you are straight into meaningful intelligent conversation. He went on to tell me how big these crocs are (about 25ft), how big their mouths are (enormous), how sharp their teeth are (like razors), and how happy they would be to see me (absolutely ecstatic) (And this was the guy who was trying to sell me the damn boat!).

So we went North ex-boat.

And that was as far as I got with this follow up article, because apart from flatheads and stingrays (which don't make great articles) I didn't have particularly good fishing - it turned out that I really needed the boat after all.

And so I could say, we came South ex-fish, but I won't.

 

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