Tag Archives: tasmania

My Christmas Pleasant

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As per the last few years, me and a few cobbers ventured into Tasmania’s Western Lakes for a couple of nights camping, hiking and fly fishing. Once again, the mission was planned well in advance and by the time Christmas had rolled around we were champing at the bit to get out there.

Destination this year was the Julian Lakes and Pillans Lake region – renowned for larger than average fish and a chance of securing a trophy among a myriad of headwaters lakes, tarns, lagoons and tantalising creek systems connecting some of them all the time and others only in really wet years. That’s the beauty of this place – You just never know what’s lurking out there.

The walk to our camp took closer to three hours than two but with many hours of daylight to take advantage of – we were not deterred. The tents were kind of flung into place and we sat down to have some lunch only then realising that we had set up camp in a dried up tarn. Nice and soft underneath but pretty soggy if any decent amount of rain was in order!

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We pretty much inhaled our tucker and set off to explore some of the Upper Julians system and with a great deal of wind about and very little sun, I threw a few blind casts with a dry around a likely channel while attempting to polariod the edges. On my third cast I heard that familiar plop – A fish had eaten my dry so instinct kicked in and I’m connected. A lovely fish of around 3lb came to hand as a couple of Land Rover Defender’s looked on. See, many people walk out here but you can actually drive if you have a 4WD or ATV that’s up to the challenge, and believe you me – It’s bloody challenging!

It’s always great to get the monkey off your back so early into any mission, especially with my recent case of the ‘striking-too-earlies’. A couple more fish were spooked here and Andy experienced an early rejection before we all met up to have a yarn and hatch a plan. Me and ‘Dick Wigram’ (Rick) decided to continue on around the Upper Julians while Andy and Stevie had a look down below. Overall we found it pretty tough, with very few insects about and not quite enough sun to effectively sigh-fish but it wasn’t too long before Dick spotted one in a patch of sun that happily scoffed his ‘tag.

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Sparked by success we hastily covered water during rare patches of light and covered likely bubble lines blowing off points. A couple of hours went by and we had barely spotted a thing. Dick found a small fish feeding on a patch of black spinner mayfly and covered it well, only to lose sight of his fly around a rock and missing the take. He felt the weight but the hook didn’t stick. I have that part on video somewhere and will see if I can track it down…

Further on we were both standing high on rocks to gain some polaroiding advantage when I heard something rise. I saw the rings bounce away from the bank and pin-pointed my quarry! This fish was feeding well on small tan-coloured moths and as I had drawn response from my home-tied parachute black spinner, I stuck with it. The fish came over and inspected it with its nose sitting directly underneath before rejecting my fly and continuing to feed on naturals. I was surprised to see this fish feeding happily away and quickly tied on a small sedge pattern, just for colour and convenience if anything. I threw it out again and the wind blew my tippet over a boulder but still in the fish’s path. I muttered to Dick ‘Tell me if he’s taken it’…. He quickly responded “I can’t see it’ before we both heard a greedy sluuurrrp and I lifted. The fish was taking line off the reel and out into the drop off when Dick yells ‘Yep he’s taken it!’. We laughed like little girls.

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Despite fishing quite a massive area, we didn’t really have that much success. We did find another couple of fish (read: two) feeding on black spinners but they only hung about for a quick feed before moving on. We waited for 20 minutes but return they did not. In any case we caught up with the other lads who had barely seen a thing and certainly didn’t catch anything so we were pretty satisfied. Even more so when we arrived back at camp and hit the shiraz quicker than a Danny Green jab.

It was pretty relaxing with a bit of claret and taking in the surrounds while admiring the native scoparia in flower and listening to Andy’s fart from over the hill. That boy is as regular as a Metro bus.

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The evening rise session was avoided as the wind was howling and finding sheltered coves seemed too problematic so we remained on the wine-bus. Similar story in the morning as Andy had a quick look prior to 5am and found plenty of wind and nothing showing. We scoffed some breakky and headed for a route around a system we planned to explore over towards Pillans. On the way we ran into a couple of lads that mentioned they had secured a couple of tailers early – Half their luck. We also happened across a couple of guys looking to fish the same system as us but after learning of our intentions, they simply said ‘yeah nah, we’ll just fish the next one over then’. Hell of a nice gesture.

Not long after fishing our new water, Stevie had spotted one and as can happen so often in the Western Lakes, his fly line became acquainted with the native heath in the heat of the moment. By the time he untangled his birds nest the fish had moved on. I spotted a great fish of 4-5lb cruising around an outflow creek but spooked it trying to re-cast. This gave us some inspiration.

We worked our way up this system fishing the larger lakes and lagoons trying to spot in between sun spots and having the odd blind cast. Stevie had a BIG fish come up and eat his ‘tag over a deep drop off but caught him a little unawares and missed the take. Dick reckoned it was a leviathan. I called Dick a puller.

The typical stories played out over the next couple of hours with a couple of missed opportunities and at least one bust off before Dick finally managed to prove that we were not just here for shits and giggles and reclaimed an element of style. It must have been something to do with his Dr Harry hat. The landing however, was not so stylish.

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Lunch time signaled departure time for both Stevie and Dick who had appointments back in the concrete jungle but me and Andy were only just getting fired up. Almost immediately after they left, the sun came out for longer and eventually, turned into a blue-sky day. Finally, it felt like we could see, like someone had taken off a blindfold. By this stage we were fishing well into headwater territory, not knowing if any fish were even up this high or if the blue blotches on our maps even had water in them.

We rounded the last few lagoons and you could almost polaroid their entirety. Nothing was spotted. In fact, they seemed too shallow to hold fish. The next one over had a slightly deeper channel running through it and seemed fishier. I’m not sure how I came to be working the side I was, I suppose we just kept heading up the same sides as the previous lagoons. It could well have been Andy in my shoes…

We joke about them all the time but I finally spotted one: a ‘Fence-Post’. A fish that looked pretty big in the water and almost made me shit right there in my underpants. It was sitting up against the bank cruising ever so slowly. Somehow it hadn’t seen me. I knew of its rough whereabouts and poked my eyes above the heath to gauge its intention. It started to swim up the bank some more…. There was now a boulder in front of me and we were both obscured from each other so I set a trap in the form of a black spinner. This beast of a fish casually nosed up to my fly and…. sipped. The pause at this time felt like an eternity. BANG! He’s got it and I’ve got him!

Yeeeeeeoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwww!!!!!!!!

I immediately hooted to Andy who raised an arm as if to say ‘Good one mate’. I hooted with more emphasis and he stopped walking and looked up. ‘I’m gonna need your help landing this one mate’ I yelled as the fish was taking me into my backing. What a feeling that was!! Yapper could sense my excitement by now and was racing around the lake to my aid.

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Photo: Andrew Howell

Tense moments followed as the fish neared numerous times before retreating to the safety of deeper water. At one point the fish took my line under a rock and we both thought the worst. Thankfully, he came out and we battled it out until Andy jumped in the drink to lay him on the bank. There it was, the biggest trout I have ever caught on fly!!

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Photo: Andrew Howell

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Photo: Andrew Howell

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Photo: Andrew Howell

Needless to say I was absolutely stoked. Yarns and high-fives continued until we cross-country hiked back to the larger system to fish our way back to camp. The tough times continued for Andy with a couple of ‘fish behaving badly’ refusing to cooperate and another fish taking his fly but not sticking. Despite his hard luck he was as upbeat as ever, keen to relive our team effort.

‘Here he comes….’

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‘There he goes….’

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We made a bee-line for camp after a big day and quickly made a dent in the remaining shiraz and port which was clearly not enough for a celebration. As we headed off for the evening fish we ran into the same sherpa-clad lad we had seen earlier in the day fishing the next system over. He invited us down for beers, intrigued about our level of success. This is where we met Tim and Snorkel. A mis-matched pair of loose units in their own rights, loving their mission and enjoying the ride and telling yarns from all over. This was a blast and if it wasn’t for our lack of contribution to the beer stash we would have stayed for a dozen more. Thanks fellas – We appreciated the tins and stories, well played!

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Once again we awoke to wind but this time it was gale force! We packed up shop and headed over to Tim and Snorkel’s camp to say catchya but they were already off, inspired by our photos of the fence post. We rounded some of the Lower Julians system without spotting a thing, then checked out a trophy water on the way out which was also fruitless. My boots were eating deep into my flesh by this stage and the thought of wearing my crocs on the walk out actually seemed like a good idea. I slipped them on and it was like sliding into silk slippers with a naked lady massaging my shoulders, I was in heaven! 12 kms in crocs was much better than performing the Turry Two-Step all the way back. I must get new boots otherwise, Everyday I’m shufflin’.

Until next time Western Lakes!

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Classic Hatches

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What a hatch, what a hatch! – Marvellous effort that…. (Must be said in true Richie Benaud style). The Australians may be struggling in the cricket but luckily we have fishing to keep us entertained. I set off after work last week after work and met my cobber Andy at Four Springs for a late-arvo / evening session. I arrived earlier than the olde Crappin’ Fowl so hastily rigged up before wandering down to the water to see what’s up. I found a few red spinner mayfly in the air but no duns in the water. I took my camera along the reeds and found stacks of damselflies doing their thing. Closer inspection revealed masses of mini-mayflies or caenids (kay-nids or see-nids depending on who you listen to) stuck in the cobwebs. It was pretty cool to see but with neither the mayflies, damselflies or caenids actually on the water, I pitcured a grubby old man with soiled flannie and a rollie hanging out of his mouth saying “ya shoulda been here earlier”.

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Yappin’ rocked up and we floated his tin-dish and chugged along at five knots to where we could set a likely wind-assisted drift. It wasn’t long before we were flicking away with a couple of dries waiting for some rising fish. Too distracted by conversation we soon noted some tiny critters on the water. At first I thought the caenids were in force but we scooped them up and bonza – ANTS! Soon, tens of thousands of tiny little flying ants lined the surface, their wings sticking in the surface film like glue. How many trout do you think we saw feeding on them? None. Not one single fish. Around twenty blind casts after along came the gum beetles, then the soldier beetles, then some much larger flying ants which could have been sugar ants. Even some isolated mayfly were about. No fish to be seen – Maybe we should have been there earlier!

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Finally, the sun began to dip behind the hills and the lake was a smorgasbord of food. It was one of those moments where the stage was set and the artists we ready for action - we just needed some bastard to turn the power on. Then a rise – Our necks immediately swung around 120 degrees in unison, a direct response from the audible splash still resonating in our ear drums. We fired up the leccy and headed toward the fish. Then we saw a back, then another. There were a few fish starting to work in a small wind-slick. We backed the leccy off as we seemed to be in the spot. Yep – There’s one! Nope – he’s over there, now he’s heading the other way, no he’s coming towards us, he’s in front of the boat – SPLASH! Spooked. The fish were moving fast and with so much food available, their path was difficult to predict. Andy was attempting to get a fly in front of an erractic fish and I sat my fly away from us in the slick while I waited for a fish to suck his fly down. There was a slurrp alright, on my fly! I turned around and lifted, felt some weight then a subsequent weightlessness. Busted off. Apart from visually missing the eat, I was disappointed about losing two fresh flies I had tied the night before, but gutted most of all about not knowing which one the fish took!! Guess I better tie more of both.

Given the amount of food and lack of light, you would think the fish would be all over the lake by now but we still only saw the odd patch of fish and they seemed to be only up for a few minutes before disappearing. It was just a matter of time before I spotted one within range and encouraged Andy to have a lash, considering I stuffed mine up. It took a few casts to get seen but the fish casually noticed the fly and accepted. Fish on, finally! It was a solid specimen and we were both pretty stoked.

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It was getting dark so we decided to crank the electric motor up to full noise while on the way back to the boat ramp while trying to spot the odd fish. I managed a chance at one fish that ate my fly next to the boat but I missed it – Maybe I struck too early again – Gonna have to nip that nasty little habit in the bud before New Zealand! As we loaded the boat still spinning out on the variety of insect hatches, caddis moth in their hundreds began swarming overhead. What a classic hatch.

Struck Too Early…

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Tasmania’s Western Lakes region is surely the most enchanting area the sight-fishing angler would hope to encounter. Shallow lagoons and tarns, crystal clear water and silty-bottomed waters brimming with trout that are sometimes keen for a decent feed. My life has been pretty hectic of late, with work and family life taking a hold, which is great apart from the whole work reference. I’ve been fishing around a bit here and there lately, just not enough time to write about it, but when the opportunity came around to hook up with a couple of blokes and smash out a mission in the wild West, I was immediately as toey as a roman sandal and knew some words may follow.

Some people are reluctant to choose a destination in advance, instead waiting for the elements to dictate their movements and style of fishing. While this is the case for me on occasion,  my desire to commit and adjust to the conditions takes priority more often these days. I’ve found myself in some shitty weather due to this philosophy, but you can learn from it too.

I had been well overdue for a walking trip having not made it out west yet this season so rounded up Chump (Paul) and Baz (Mitchell) to explore some water during a day mission. We headed up after work on Thursday night and avoided most of the wildlife before arriving at the Little Pine shack for a wind-down beverage with Tony and Geoff who were sliding into some dinner and a lazy Jameson as we arrived. They entertained us with a few yarns from yester-year when the clock chimed past midnight and our four o’clock start was looming.

I really must change my alarm. I swear I was halfway through a dream and playing out a trophy fish when my kooky alarm persuaded my mind to believe there was a random stalker trying to cut off my head with a butter knife. That fucking alarm licks the bag.

We ‘kicked the pig’ and made our way to the Lake Ada car park, avoiding a few deer and millions of kangaroos along the way. It was already quite light and the need for head-torches was dismissed. Which was a shame as we were hoping for a few tails. We arrived to Ada Lagoon and found a distraction in the form of a waving tail anyway so Baz tried his best to tempt the beast but failed. In any case this fish was just eating in to our short time-frame so we buggered off along the track.

When we arrived at our first water the plan to split up and round this lagoon was made. The sun wasn’t fully up yet and the glare coupled with a slight breeze made it difficult to polariod. We hoped that the lea shore would provide some better water. We were right. It wasn’t long before we spotted a fish, then two…. no, THREE! They were all cruising over the same silty corner and it was my time to have a lash. I picked out the closest one and he came over to the dry to have a look but refused it. That put a dent in my confidence but I remained with the trusty red tag and stick caddis combo. We paced along the bank and one fish was still present so another opportunity was available. I popped the fly a metre or so away from the fish and he soon noticed it and made a bee-line toward the dry. The fish casually nosed up to the fly and opened its mouth and I lifted…. Nothing. Pauly immediately chimed in – “Too early, you struck too early”. Deep down I knew it but I defiantly responded “Nah, he closed his mouth on it, surely”. What I was trying to say was “Who invited you anyway!!”. A little disheartened I accepted that I was too keen and soldiered on. Ten metres on and I spotted another and as Pauly wasn’t even rigged up yet I quickly hurled a fly in its path. The fish saw it and the whole scenario was repeated with me pulling the fly out of its mouth. I was a bit green… and then red! What a muppet.

Further over, Baz had spooked a couple and was trying his best to get a cast to a rising fish that kept showing just out of reach, to no avail. Pretty sure he saw my questionable skills too. The small amount of cloud was burning off quickly and that sun began to tickle our skin, paving the way for a warm and blue-sky day – the perfect scenario for sight-fishing in these parts.

The next lagoon over revealed a caddis hatch, with a small breeze sending moths out into the middle where some nice fish were happily munching them off the surface. Although a small water almost every fish was out of reach and there was nothing cruising the edges. It was still awesome to see solid fish porpoising repeatedly.

With high hopes we headed over to a large and more popular water. We immediately noted a couple of cormorants drying their wings on the rocks. Seems that their presence is widespread this season and despite always seeing fish at this water, we circumnavigated the whole thing without seeing a fish. No doubt they were there somewhere but perhaps in deeper water or thinned out by the feathered fishermen.

We headed back to the main creek that feeds this system and Pauly soon spots one. The fish disappeared and he began winding his line back in when it came cruising back up the bank. Wicked. His first cast went un-noticed but the second landed in the fish’s path and ole spotty zoned in on it. Chomp! Pause! On! As Baz and myself hooted with delight, Pauly muttered the words “See how I waited on that”. I could have kicked him in the shins but instead, I got my camera out.

We continued down the system fishing un-named tarns and lagoons looking for ideal water. Many of them were really low for this time of year which doesn’t look good if the lack of rain and cormorant populations continue. Only a couple of fish were seen here and there but the caddis hatches hanging over the water were left un-molested by any trout. You could almost polariod the entire length too so we would have seen any fish if they were there. We found a couple of small fish in the last lagoon and Baz’s offer was refused by one while I was in position to target the other. I managed the eat but you guessed it, missed once again. Could have sworn that I left it long enough this time but really, I had sworn enough!

We stopped at a sizeable lagoon on the way back and finally found some cruising fish working the edges and others sipping midge further out. We were fast running out of time due to a dinner curfew but stopped to play, of course. Baz eyed off a couple of midge feeders and sent ripper cast out and hooked a nice fish, only to lose it soon after. He was also having one of them days. I found a fish moving quickly away from me along the shore and lost sight of it for a moment. I stayed and watched thinking it had moved out to deeper water but found it again a little further along the bank. The dry was flicked and the fish was keen for it – This time I hit lip. It was just a little one but man it’s always good to get on the board, even more so when you had used up all other chance cards.

Baz had a quick sniff at Lake Ada on the way back and was refused once again along the shore, with a fish denying the well-presented dry. I felt his frustration but that’s how it is some days – You can have a wonderful stage and all props set for a splendid performance only to break a leg. I guess that’s why it’s called fishing, not catching. Despite the scorecard looking pretty low I have no doubt that we all had a ripper day out and watching fish do their thing in a wild environment with two good blokes certainly makes it worthwhile.

Pic of the Day…

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You wouldn’t think so but trout live here, at the beach. Resident trout can be encountered quite often but it’s the hefty sea-run trout chasing whitebait that draw mental anglers from all over for amazing sight fishing and that chance encounter with a trophy-sized silver bullet… (remember to click on the photo for much better quality!)

Anglers Alliance Tasmania

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We are incredibly fortunate in Tasmania to have a resource known as Angler Access. These are a bunch of dedicated beats and access points formed and maintained with the angler in mind. Much of this access is located on privately owned land and through the work of Anglers Alliance, both Tasmanians and visiting anglers have a myriad of fishing options without becoming baffled by laws and legalities.

Anglers Alliance Tasmania Inc. (AAT) was formed in January 2006 as the peak body representing the interests of all Tasmanian fresh water anglers.The core aims of the Alliance are reflected in their goal “Through the representation of all anglers, ensure the realization and maintenance of the full potential of the fishery.” They work closely with the IFS and play a significant role in providing them with angler views and suggestions and act as a catalyst between fisheries management and all State and local Governments. The Alliance operates on behalf of all anglers, without fear or favour of any group or entity and views all decisions on the basis of “Tasmania and Tasmanians first.”

Be sure to jump onto the newly revamped site and have a look around. You can even check the webcams to see how some of the more popular waters are looking before sneaking off…

On the Move

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Lack of significant rains have prompted the sea-run trout to appear a touch earlier than normal in the North of Tasmania, with small amounts of bait not far behind. Yesterday I took a break by the river and managed to lock my keys in the car – this allowed me to painfully watch several sea-run brown trout patrol a shallow shore on the look out for bait. Every now and then a fish would herd a handful of bait up against the shore and mop up the stragglers. It was tough to watch while on the phone to locksmiths and with a rod in the car in case of such emergencies. I did manage to cast to a couple once free but the pent up anticipation caused haste and the haste was not welcomed with open jaws. Soon, they shall be mine.

Camden Fishing

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Camden Rivulet is a wonderful stream nestled in the hills of the North-East of Tasmania and is surrounded by tantalising little drains and youthful headwaters. I would like to share some exciting news of a local business whose namesake in born from this very water and whose passion is fly fishing.

Introducing Camden Fishing. These cats have done their homework and it seems that the lingering interest of fly fishing has ultimately become the driving force behind this business venture and the subsequent quality they produce. From T-shirts and caps to fly boxes and Tasmanian hand-made leather bags – This is a void that has been begging to be filled in Tasmania and we can expect some exciting times ahead for Camden Fishing. Please be sure to explore their website and salivate with me over their products. (Cleanse afterward).

Introducing: RiverFly Wilderness Huts

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Some years ago, I attempted to walk along the beach in the firm compacted sand left by the retreating waves wearing only my underpants. The intention was to make myself as light as possible so as to leave no footprints, as if no-one was to know I had ever been there. Passers-by surely felt they had an encounter with a bunyip, but no – it was me, gliding along the sand ballet-style. I failed miserably and surmised that I’m far too heavy and hairy for this sort of caper, plus my enormous hammer-toes leave a really weird imprint…

Luckily, there’s someone out there willing to take up this challenge and are offering up some special seats on this unique ride. Introducing: RiverFly Wilderness Huts.

RiverFly Wilderness Huts are located on the iconic conservation property, Skullbone Plains, which shares a 16 kilometre boundary with the World Heritage Area. These are the only commercial huts in Tasmania with direct access to the famed Western Lakes fishery.

Skullbone Plains

 

The camp consists of three accommodation huts (sleeping a maximum two persons per hut), along with a communal hut, discretely located on the edge of an un-touched forest and moorland. Just 250 metres away is the beautiful Lake Ina and the Walls of Jerusalem National Park & World Heritage Area. RiverFly have formed a partnership with the Tasmanian Land Conservancy (the local land owner), ensuring that a proportion of income from every fly fisher that stays at the Wilderness Huts goes directly to the TLC, in support of their New Leaf Project and conservation efforts.

The huts themselves are simple, modern & lightweight structures, constructed of insulated steel and timber walls, canvas roofs and ceilings, decks and raised platforms. Built to strict environmental principles, the huts are fully removable, and built to leave little or no trace of their presence within the environment after removal. In addition to the huts themselves, the camp also utilises a fully enclosed toilet pod system, which is emptied off-site each season. Cooking is done on gas and methylated spirit burners, and water is collected on site. All rubbish is removed off-site, each trip.

Wilderness Huts During Construction

 

Spanning an area of 40 kilometres by 20 kilometres, the Western Lakes has few comparisons globally. The fly fishing is dominated by lake-edge sight fishing and wade-polaroiding, in shallow and crystal clear waters. Dry flies are the norm. The only other comparison to this style of fly fishing is flats-fishing for bonefish. Lake-shallows are scanned for cruising browns, which are targeted with a quick presentation, and the rest is up to the trout and angler.

Beach Polaroiding – Lake Ina

This is an amazing opportunity to come and experience wilderness fly fishing and low-impact camping in Tasmania, in an environmentally sustainable way. Please contact RiverFly for more information, pricing and availabilities.