Chapter Previews

A mad fisherman’s journey of adventure and discovery across the Australian wilderness

 

Chapter 1

“The triangular dorsal fin of a big shark cut through the surface and turned 90 degrees towards the front of the kayak. It kept rising until half its body pushed through the surface and a great sheet of water cascaded off its huge pectoral fins. Its blunt head then crashed onto the very front of the kayak with a loud crackling noise as its teeth penetrated the fibreglass. As it struck, a white membrane closed over its black eye"

Chapter 2

It was before European carp had spread through the Murray-Darling system and the Murrumbidgee flowed strong and clear. Flocks of black ducks, teal and wood ducks winged their way along the river and between the billabongs across the floodplains. Sulphur-crested cockatoos screeched through the towering canopies of river red gums. 

The billabong had an abundance of eastern long-necked turtles, and the tips of their noses often broke the still water’s surface. Nearby, eastern grey and red kangaroos grazed through the trees. Some beautiful yellowbelly and redfin were landed, and sessions were followed by the delicious smell of fresh fish being cooked in the little cottage.

Chapter 3

During earthworks to extract gravel for building projects in the rapidly expanding western suburbs of Sydney, machines excavated a layer of river stones. Archaeologist, Father Eugene Stockton was alerted and discovered several artefacts at the site. One was a rounded stone with flakes chipped from one side to create a chopping tool. It was later confirmed to have been made by human hands at least 50,000 years ago.

Dyarubbin is tidal through those upper reaches. Steep hills shrouded with gums on one side of the river tower over floodplains on the other. It was low tide early in the afternoon and along the edge of the floodplain there was a narrow strip of exposed mud and sand. Thick weed beds extended out from the water’s edge to the channel. The clay banks were lined with logs and rocks and dotted with the burrows of small crabs that darted in and out of cover as we explored.

Chapter 4

“The noble art of fishing for blackfish,” as Dave described it, requires an ability to cast the float with its trailing line of leads and tiny baited hook on a centre-pin reel, not specifically designed for casting. It calls for a smooth sweeping action and a deft touch with the palm of the hand to control the spinning spool and prevent an overrun. Dave and Sean had it down pat and quietly lobbed their floats between the pylons and moored dinghies.

Chapter 5

Rock-fishing is officially the most dangerous pastime in Australia and Sydney’s sandstone headlands are some of the most notorious for fatalities. The low, sandstone platforms between Sydney Harbour and Botany Bay are often coated with a layer of green slime that’s like wet ice to walk on. Many a novice in thongs, rushing onto a rock shelf at the sight of others catching fish “has gone arse over head,” as Dave would put it. 

The throb of the city stretched behind us, but the thin edge between land and sea was kept pristine by crashing swells and blue ocean currents. On calm mornings at low tide, we’d walk across carpets of red and green weed with crabs scuttling along nearby ledges. Rock pools turned into aquariums of small fish, seaweeds and sea urchins and on the lowest, exposed rocks, cunjevoi squirted streams of water. We’d heave out our lures as gentle swells washed over our feet.

We gazed at the still-glistening tuna; they were almost black on top, with iridescent blue and chrome flanks. We estimated them at around 6-7 kilos. We’d never seen or heard of anyone catching tuna there before. For a couple of teenagers halfway through year 11, it was unreal.  

Chapter 6

Broome was still a sleepy hollow on the far north-west coast of Western Australia. Pearling luggers docked next to the jetty in the heart of Chinatown and if you had a beer across the road in the Roebuck Hotel, there was every chance you’d soon be yarning with one of the many local characters. It was a wild frontier, but there was warmth that came from the isolation and colourful history.

A few hundred metres beyond the low-tide mark, a channel ferries tides of up to 10m in and out of Roebuck Bay. The water over the channel erupted with tuna as they plundered schools of bait fish and a flock of terns speared into them from above. They were northern bluefin (longtail) tuna and feeding in clear water pouring in from the ocean, creating a dark blue abyss along the channel. Suddenly tuna flashed under and around the kayak and bait fish peppered the side of it.

It was a surreal scene. The jetty was shrouded in darkness, but lights beneath the decking lit up the barnacles and marine growth at the bottom of the pylons. With no wind, the only sounds were dripping water and fish erupting between the pylons.           

Chapter 7

From the air, the view of the upper Daly River and its surrounds was breath-taking. You could see the vegetation progressively thicken, leading up to a strip of dark green rainforest bisected by a sparkling ribbon of silver.

As dusk descended, the only sounds were birds calling from the tree canopies and rustling in the leaf litter. Then, suddenly, there was an enormous explosion in the middle of the pool about 100m ahead as the dead freshie was flung across the surface like a rag doll by what could only have been a huge saltwater crocodile.

Chapter 8

A canoe on the Daly wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea but it was solidly built, stable and as big as a small dinghy. It was easy to launch, get up and down rapids, and it was quiet. That meant you saw and heard a lot more along the river. I took it to “the pool” on the box trailer and, rather than have it bounce over the bumps and corrugations each visit, left it hidden there.

With no significant rain since the last Wet, the river was fed almost entirely by filtered spring water pouring from its headwaters. Pushed downstream by the steady current, we could see the bottom everywhere we looked. Fish scattered and pig-nosed turtles scurried away from under us. We skimmed over a giant sawfish lying on the silt-covered bottom, the combined length of its crosscut saw-like snout and deep body easily 3m.

Chapter 9

The area between Sydney Harbour and Botany Bay was occupied by the Gadigal, Bidjigal and Birrabirragal clans. Their diet was rich in seafood and included snapper, bream, mullet, flathead, groper and whiting, as well as crayfish, crabs and numerous shellfish. Women fished with a hook and line, often from bark canoes. They wove their lines using fibres from the inner bark of kurrajong trees and made hooks from carved bone and shell. In the early 1800s Aboriginal people were often seen fishing in their bark canoes off Bondi and Maroubra beaches and around Wedding Cake Island off Coogee.

Chapter 10

In early 1989 a public outcry protesting the pollution of Sydney’s beaches inspired some of Australia’s leading musicians and an estimated quarter of a million people to gather at Bondi for the ‘Turn Back the Tide’ concert. Deepwater outfalls installed 2 – 4 km off the coast over the following years are supporting thriving marine ecosystems and Sydney’s beaches are arguably as clean as they’ve been for 100 years.

Chapter 11

Fred leapt to his feet as the springer was dragged straight down and the line ripped free from its tip, causing it to whip back. He ducked to one side and caught hold of the line as it peeled off the handcaster lying on the deck below it. Earlier he told me he was once struck a painful blow by a recoiling springer that hit him between the eyes and broke his glasses. 

Chapter 12

Huge tides energise this coastal environment. Along Broome’s Reddell Beach, long known as Yilagun, ocean currents pour inshore along Roebuck Deeps, an underwater canyon leading into Roebuck Bay. They bring with them clouds of baitfish that sparkle as they ride the tides and flee predatory fish.

Chapter 13

The terns were the perfect guide, and their constant chatter was a complex communication system. The bust-ups were intense but fleeting and only occurred when the queenfish herded clusters of bait fish to the surface and momentarily corralled them there. As the birds soared and spread out, predicting where the next bust-up would be, they didn’t always agree.

Chapter 14

 

At the outer edge of the flats, the rivulet sliced through bright green seagrass beds. Here and there, dugongs hoovering up the tender shoots under the cover of darkness had cut meandering tracks. Across the skyline, wader birds swooped and wheeled in tight formations, landing in unison, then probing the soft mud for tiny crustaceans, refueling after almost non-stop flights from their breeding grounds on the tundra plains of the Arctic Circle.

 

Lt. Winckel recounted the events of that day. “We had two machine guns in the rear of the Loadstar. I took one of them out, and my wireless operator Bill Maks got the box of 400 rounds of 303 ammunition and put it onto the machine gun. I then took the gun about 30 metres away up the field. One of the Zeros came in so low, right in front of me I could see the pilot laughing. I thought, ‘not for long’ and gave him the full blast of my machine gun.”

Chapter 15

As line ripped out, a few loops tightened around his fingers. Screaming in pain he went careering down the beach and headfirst into the shallows, where luckily the line pulled free from the tips of his fingers. Face-down and spread-eagled, he kept holding onto the spinning handcaster in his outstretched hand.