Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 89 - Streaky Bay

We are parting today. The timetable has come to a point where we need to point the van towards Smiths Lake, while Forbsy, who is also looking to get home for family celebrations, is also looking to cut off the Victorian part of the trip, Silver Leader and Rosalie, want to see the lower end of this peninsula and visit Coffin Bay and Port Lincoln.

We are going to stay here in Streaky Bay, relax, allow Robyn to get ahead of some work and then head to the Murray, see her brand new grand niece at Echuca, while catching up with her brother and sister in law, track along to Wodonga and catch up with my sister, then head north to Condobolin to see my aunt and uncle struggling to feed stock, and then home.

The wind blew hard most of the night, but in the early morning gloom has dropped down to a mere zephyr. Its grey, in keeping with the mood of the campers I suspect, because when you have travelled, shared breakdowns and extraordinary experiences, there becomes an attachment. They will be on the road by 10.00am, checkout time, leaving us to luxuriate in the day of leisure. Robyn smirks, she has to work.

The parting is done, the usual hugs and kisses affair, then it is to “holidaying” on our own. An easy way to leave Robyn alone working, is for me to fish. This area is renowned for its whiting and the day is not overly bad, although the wind is blowing, it is coming from what would be my back at the water’s edge.

As the others drive out, I am already at the pipe holding the rods to extricate my light and medium rods. These will do for today. I can rig them up with the necessary light rigs and watch them both, while I sit between them. I have squid bait left over from the other day, so I am set. I do however, get out my gortex jacket, as the grey clouds in the south do not enamour themselves to suggesting the day is going to get any better.

When I paid for the extra night, the lady at reception suggested if I go down to the beach, stay to the right of the island and pick a spot between weed patches for the best chance of catching fish. Once I get to the beach, I can see what she meant, and I travel about 50 metres north of the island and rig up. There are strange gull like birds on the beach, some white with black feathers, others just grey. They are much bigger than gulls, and as a seagull has a straight beak these have round ended beaks. Just as nosy as a seagull though and will be just as much a pest I bet. Later I was to find even more so.

Rigged up, I hurl the bait to spots I think should yield fish and sit down to wait. I am 2 hours from the top of the tide, and things might take a while to get going. From time to time beach walkers would pass, bidding gidday, and continue on along the beach. Some with dogs are also walking, most of the dogs like the smell of the bait, but do not endanger my stash in any way.

The water is coming up the beach as the tide moves in. From time to time I check baits and move the rods a little further up the beach in time with the rise of the tide.  Nothing, but one lost bait, and I think that may have been to a crab, occurs in the first two hours. Robyn comes down to the beach for a break from work to see how I am going, asking am I happy to sit on the beach, which I am, as she is making excellent inroads into the work. She also enquires as to whether we are having fish for dinner or she needs to get something defrosted. There is a giggle when I suggest we are having steak for dinner.

A little later I notice one of the lines has gone completely slack. In the wind there is a large ever-increasing bow, as the wind has changed direction and increased in velocity, but this occurrence is out of the norm. I wind and there is resistance, weed I think, but then there is a flash across the water in front of me, with the line following along. Initially I think I am into a shark or a large flathead such is the severity of the run and the continuation thereof.

There is another run, and on the light gear on this particular rod and rig, I can do nothing but let it go. The run stops and I start making inroads on the distance between the fish and the shore. I get it back halfway and then off again it runs, but with a little less force than the first major event. The next retrieval session gets the fish to a point where I can see it in the water, it looks like a flathead, rolling around in a vain attempt to get unhooked.

It breaks the water and I see I am into a reasonably large ray, bugger, but given the number of bites I have not had today, I am still going to enjoy this fight. Again, the ray heads to the depths for freedom, and again I let it go, and retrieve when I can. Now I know what it is, I get out my phone and turn on the video when I get it close to shore. The ray on queue makes another good run and the reel is screaming, all good stuff for the viewers.

Finally, I get the ray in a position where it is beaten, but having said that, it is not on the beach as yet. I really only want to get my rig back if possible, but because the fight has been up and down the beach we are well away from my gear. I drag the ray to a point where it is half in and half out of the water. It calms for a moment and I take the “trophy” picture. Not having seen a ray like this before I am not sure as to the nastiness of the tail, so I don’t want to get too close. I can see the swivel and the sinkers, so I simply pull and break the line and the ray is free. It has enough body in the water to flap its huge fins and meander back to the depths.

That was fun.

Of course, there are the obligatory messages to mates, including the video sequence. As well as a few calls, especially to the Missing Link, who I catch mid babysitting a little one, wanting to be fed or changed or something. Put it this way, he politely suggests he will call back. He does this and we discuss the fight, and he is amazed that I was able to pull off the fight given my usual inability to play with the drag properly, but I am getting better, and as soon as I saw it was a ray, it was the perfect time to train myself.

Robyn brings me lunch, the last slice of spinach and feta pie and suggests that if I am happy to fish, she will keep working. Anyone who knows me, and my proclivity for fishing, will know the answer. Having said that, it is just as well I was able to make a few calls and send a few texts, to while away the time, otherwise I might have been annoying her early.

The sun has come out, although the wind has not abated, and sitting on the beach is very pleasant. From time to time I check the rods in vain, visually but see no movement. Robyn comes by again, around 4.00pm with a drink, and I pack up and return with her.

Just as we enter the van, Forbsy calls. The line is awful but apparently he has put over five hundred kilometres behind him today and has reached a free camp behind a pub in Spalding, not far from Port Pirie and well past the Port Augusta aiming point, getting back some of the distance we lost to the dust the day we stopped at Penong, not that it matters. Hmmm, a free campo behind a pub, a little poetic one might suggest, given the haul for the day. We certainly wont be attempting that tomorrow.

During the afternoon I got texts from Silver Leader, who had booked themselves into Coffin Bay. He was at pains to tell me they were in the pub being swamped by a hens’ party. I text suggesting I trust the “scenery” is good. The only return text I receive, is a thumbs up. Obviously, a good time was being had by all.

Exhausted by many hours of fishing, once I have packed away the gear, I settle in front of the TV to watch a DVD, Sink the Bismarck. Before too many scenes, I am snoring loudly. Robyn continues to work, without interruption.

Tomorrow we are off on our own, heading for Port Augusta and home.