Here We Go Again - Chapter 28 - Airlie Beach Day 4

It takes a lot to truly stuff up a fishing trip. The tack of fish is never really an issue, if it were any easier it would be called catching but today was a lesson in how not to benefit from a referral. We had been referred to a fishing charter, as the only one worth using, by the tackle shop owner a couple of days ago. Unfortunately he was booked out for the week, to which I asked would he recommend anyone else. HIs answer was the only one he would “recommend” was a team which I won’t mention and would not touch any another.

The plan was to be outside the park at 6.35am for complimentary pick up. I had spoken to the lady in charge of all things administration who suggested they may be a little later but only perhaps 5 – 10  minutes as we were the only pick up for the day. Everyone else was making their own way to the boat. There were to be eight including us on the charter for this half day attack.

At 6.55am I rang the administration lady who assured me a driver would be there to pick us up shortly. So good start, what was going to be only a half day charter was going to start late. Things happen beyond control and this was apparently one of them. The excess waiting time allowed us to return to the vans for “extra” layers of clothing, which we all now were wearing

It was in fact the skipper of the boat who picked us up in a Toyota Troop Carrier which he was unable to easily open the back door. A few moments finally had it open, Silver Leader and myself, after depositing our rods on one side of the rear area, plonked ourselves on the seats for the drive to the boat. Forbsy was afforded the front seat.

Seeing by our gear we may have known a little of what we were doing when it comes to fishing, the skipper suggested that once on the boat, Silver Leader and I “park” ourselves in the back two corners, as the “best spots on the boat”. Upon arrival, everyone else was waiting and the deck hand was finishing a cigarette on the landing. 

The boat was full. There was us, a couple of grandparents with their daughter and grandson and another gentleman. The grandson was, I would guess about 5 or 6 on his first fishing trip. He was positioned right up front where the skipper could look after him, potentially hook fish for the budding fisherman and have him reel them in.

Unlike the day before there is wind, enough to make it uncomfortable. After the obligatory safety talk we mosey through the harbour opening and off towards adventure. I have brought 3 rods. My trolling overhead set up, I like to use whilst we are travelling at home in the hope of picking up a bonito for bait. Here I would suspect trolling might pick up a Spanish Mackerel. But there will be no trolling for the moment, we are bashing our way towards our first destination. The deck hand grabs the rod, which already is rugged ready for trolling and changes the rig for bottom bashing – big mistake.

The other rods are similar in nature, one a Demon Blood 24kg, the other a hand built rod I was given as a friend moved out of a house. Forbsy, rather than using the gear supplied, is given the “spare” rod by me,a s I have this  niggling feeling about the equipment on board. The deck hand rigs the two rods with a floating sinker (a heavy one) adobe a 6/0 hook. It seems odd to me that this is the rig we would use in the conditions but they are the locals.

We hit the first “secret spot”. The current apparently is running with the wind making the drift quick. WE have parked ourselves over an old World War II warplane wreck according to the skipper and there should be Mackrell around. The deck hand, having distributed bait to everyone casts two “floating baits” out the back of the boat between Silver Leader and myself, whilst we drop our baits over the side.

Its not long before Silver Leader is into  something. It’s obviously a Mackrell by the swirling nature of the approach. The fish manages to tangle everyone except me. I saw the fight start and reeled in just in case. Many of the nine lines are now intermingled. The deck hand has his work cut out for him and releases everyone in due course. 

We drift over this spot several times. Sometimes with success, other times not. Forbsy latches onto one which when in the boat is measured and found to be 1 centimeter short of legal. A bad omen of the day for the intrepid fisher. Trying to fight the movement of the boat, the skipper has it in reverse on the idle, which only succeeds in running the boat back over the floating baits, tangling around the motor or worse, Silver Leader and my bottom bashing bairs.

In the time we play here I manage to secure two Mackrell for the table tonight, and along with Silver Leaders contribution means we will have enough for dinner. The wind has strengthened and the skipper suggests we make a bee line for the leeward side of an island that has in the past produced quality Coral Trout, one of the species that particularly Silver Leader is hoping to catch. A variety of small fish are caught. Forbsy is told to release multiple “undersized” catches and the frenzy of annoying smaller fish keeps us amused.

The skipper has managed to secure several fish for the young one and he is very satisfied in his efforts for the day. His grandmother and mother both have success.

The grandfather hooks into a decent fish. He is a hand liner from way back, and is using a rod for the “first” time according to him. There is a crash as the reel falls from the rod onto the floor of the boat. He grabs for the line but too late, the fish is lost. There were other fish lost at the boat during the day. Silver Leader, not keeping score, notes that once the deck hands touch the leader, the fish is ”caught”. To me the only fish counted are the ones on the esky.

The skipper suggests we are running out of time but there is one more spot to try before heading back. A place he wanted to try earlier but the wind, now slightly abated had prevented, was dropped in on. We anchor up and start to fish. 

Almost immediately I get much more substantial bites than I had at any other spot. The two Mackrell I had caught were swift takers of the bait. Here the jabbing feeling of the fish attacking the bait, meant something different. I ease up on the line and a fish of size is hooked. The fight is on, and for several moments, it feels like I might have dinner all wrapped up in one fish. Then there is colour, bright orange, a Coral Trout and whiclt not huge is certainly big enough. I apprehensively allow the deck to net the fish but once in there is a big sigh of relief.

Once the obligatory pictures are snapped its back to fishing. I immediately have the same type of bite and run but this time no hook up. Bugger. 

Again the deck hand has floating “live bait” drifting behind the boat. While they are attending to something at the front of the boat, a tangle I suspect, one of the live bait rigs goes off. Silver Leader standing next to the rod, grabs it and strikes to secure the fish. Not knowing the protocol he stands there holding both his and the live bait rod.

The yell from the front of the boat gives him “permission” to start the fight. He puts his bottom bashing rod down and gets to work. Its a Spotted Mackerel as opposed to the School Mackrell we were catching this morning. Again not a huge fish but big enough to consider gracing the table tonight.

The skipper and deck hand  now call for lines up its time to go home. Its only 11.00am and before we can get going the two floating live bait rigs need retrieving. Both are snagged on the bottom and given the leader and the line used will take a little time to remove. They could simply cut the line if we are that time pressed but they persist with their attempts to dislodge them. All the while the rest of the boat are ready to leave as ordered

The trip back, into the wind and in a decent shop starts off wet before the deck hand, always ready to sledge the skipper’s efforts, manages to secure one of the clears to make the ride a little less wet for us at the back. We arrive back at the dock, pile off onto the pontoon, thinking that they are simply going to hand us our fish and we will be off. 

No, they then proceed to look to fillet the fish we have caught, in a manner we would like and place the fillets in a plastic bag for us. Their job of filleting is as expected. Little of the fish is left on the frames, which are tossed over the side until the unaccompanied fisher suggests he will use them in his crab traps, then he is presented with them in a similar plastic bag.

By the time they finish the filleting it is noon. The charter is complete. In my opinion we started late, finished early and given the cost is the same as we are charged at home on Illusion we got much less value for the day. These guys in turn had another trip out this afternoon and were ready to go. 

During the trip we had been offered morning tea, some biscuits and lamingtons. At no time, although I suspect there were drinks on board were not pointed out or offered to us. Illusion trips, which are pegged for the same time period, include fruit, biscuits, water and soft drink, and all fish are cleaned and filleted on the return allowing for maximum fishing time. The experience of Illusion has tainted what I expect on a fishing charter, and its not just that, many of the other charters we have been on have had many more of the “niceties” covered, even though we may not have caught lots of fish. 

I can see why, if this was the standard, the original charter operator was hesitant to refer to any others. Yet they are all busy, a product of the times. Its funny, everyone is complaining about Covid and the lack of demand, and as such cash flow, but that does not give you the right, once the market start to rebound to cut costs at the detriment of the customer. The best time to market is when demand is high to allow for the lulls to be covered, but of your product is substandard, you will always be in a losing race.

Enough said. Its time to find the girls or return to the van park. 

As luck would have it they are close. I see my Cruiser parked and suggest to our driver we need only be let off adjacent to it. We can stow our gear, in it and on it, set the fish fillets up in the Engel fridge, relock the Cruiser and find something to wet this thirst we have developed.

I call Robyn and let here know we will be in the pub where we sat like “Shags on a Rock” waiting for Forbsy on his arrival, but it is full of patrons so we file into the adjacent watering hole. The girls find us and we sit and discuss their shopping exploits and our fishing “tales and lies” o the day.

Equilibrium of moisture in the body restored its back to the park for lunch. Forbsy has decided to make his famous sausage rolls for afternoon tea as an entree to the fish we have caught. Robyn and I need to replenish supplies and head off to the local Woolies. The trip so far has been a mish mash of dietary disruption. Its time to put some regularity back into the fray. 

Fruit is the big one, we have none in the van now. Mandarins, apples, raspberries, strawberries, celery sticks etc are all quickly in the trolley. The meat section cops the same attention, but here we look for meal options, small enough to placate but not so large to allow gorging. Dont get me wrong, ice cream and a few other treats also made it into the trolley.

Robyn muses quizzically, how are going to get all this stuff packed away. In my mind it is easy, the freezer is almost empty, as is the fridge in the Cruiser, as for the pantry stuff, that’s another matter. A full rework of that area is going to need to be considered.

We have packed poorly. The upper cupboards in the van hold things we don’t really need on a daily basis and could be relocated, especially things like the two ring binders full of DVD’s and CD’s. We rarely use the sound system or TV let alone have requirements for the contents of that cupboard. I think they are going to end up under the bed and give us some more pantry space. There is another cupboard with “stuff” in it that although “vitally important” never seems to get used. Perhaps that can be relocated as well.

But not today, Today I am going to make it happen in the space I have available.

Robyn has tweaked her hip and I retire her to the bed for a rest while I unload and pack away. The cryovac machine will help reduce some of the bulk, especially in the freezer.

 By the time I finish there is still room in the freezer, the fridge is well stocked and I have managed to hide a few things in the upper lockers, without relocation of the contents already there. That doesn’t mean we could drive off just at this moment, the fruit sits on the bench, but we have the shopping “packed” for now.

Forbsy is “designing” dinner. The sausage rolls are a given. How will the fish do? He has some egg and bread crumb mix for the Mackerel, the Coral Trout we will simply cut into chunks and cook on the barbeque along with the “other” fillets, where Silver “Miguel” Leader can do his thing. Forbsy also has a packet of frozen chips to bake and I have the provisions to make our style of tabouli. When we sit to eat, Rose has thrown together a couple of pasta salads and we sit and eat/gorge ourselves on the catch of the day.

When you add up the cost of the charters versus the amount of fish we are now consuming, the mind boggles. But that is not the point is it.