I swear there comes a time in every fisho’s life where they lose their mojo. You know the one. Where it seems every bait/lure you put in the water gets monstered by a larger than average fish but something transpires to pull you up short of actually being able to say “I caught such and such. Have a look at this beautiful photo!” Instead you inevitably end up going home to your mates and significant other telling the story of the one that got away. To add insult to injury (not only have you just lost a prized catch) but the obligatory “Are you just telling another tall fishing story” comments start to flow forth from the disbelievers.
I don’t profess to be the best fisherman on the planet, but I like to think of myself as competent in the angling stakes. However, I seem to be experiencing one of these astronomical slumps at the moment. It’s getting harder and harder for my very understanding wife to believe that I can actually catch a fish, let alone the “monsters” that I seem to unintendedly practice C&R on before I take a hook out of. Anyone who read my post about my recent trip to Ballina and the Bouncing Jew would have an idea as to what I am talking about.
Well it’s happened again. My wife was working overtime last night and I figured rather than sit at home on my tod, I would go and soak a bait for a bream in the river and wait for her to finish. So I nip home from work, quickly throw the cast net and a limited amount of gear into the car and off I scoot. I’m beetling along not really paying attention (thinking about the bream I was about to catch) and FLASH. Dammit. Speed camera. Well these are going to be expensive fish now. I arrive down at my chosen spot in the middle reaches of the Brisbane River and start casting to collect some bait. A handful of prawns later and I’m set. I rig up with a ball sinker to a swivel and 20lb leader to the hook, bait up then toss my lines out and sit back to relax in the twilight. After half an hour the first rod starts to spurt line in fits and starts. I reach over and apply pressure; it feels like a good fish. After a few minutes I have a threadfin around 80cm break the surface near my feet, only to have the trace wear through before I could even move. Insert multiple expletives. Turn around to start rigging up again and have a look in my bag for some heavier leader. Nope. Only brought the 20lb with me. Bugger. I’ll just have to take it easier next time. Rig up, toss out, and the blokes near me start whooping and hollering. They’ve just landed a fish of similar size. Jealousy is a curse! I sit back down to wait. The blokes next to me start cheering. They’re on again! Then mine goes at the same time. Light drag, screaming runs, softly, softly, screaming runs, fish is back at my feet again, this one is a little larger than the first. POP! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Leader busted again. I wandered over to the blokes across the way to find they had landed another two with the best going 97cm.
Needless to say I turned for home with my tail between my legs to try and explain a speeding fine and another “You should have seen the one that got away” story to my wife. I only wish my drought will end in a spectacular way; I can always live in hope!
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Originally Posted by Russell Burnett
