Page 70 - BNB Fishing mag | May 2020

A Bustard Head trip with a difference
* from P69
age compartment to make way for cans of
even a tiddler and barely a nibble.
The only thing we caught was a remora, which had me wondering the whereabouts of the host. Setting crab pots overnight proved equally futile. It seemed the fish had gone on holiday and the crabs went
we found rocky reef patches.
The visibility wasn’t as good but the
baked beans – zip-tied to the bow rail. My eldest son remarked that he’d even cut his toothbrush in half.
current was manageable and we didn’t see any dangerous purplish jelly looking things. This area produced some nice cod, mangrove jack and other reef fish but no mackerel. Still we had more than enough to eat.
As a battle-scarred boatie, I am only too aware that feats like this are not possible in any conditions, and was resigned to the possibility of postponement or even cancellation.
with them.
Early next morning we headed offshore
Fortunately a favourable forecast re- mained for the week, and as we motored out to open sea I thanked the weather gods for the steady 12-knot southerly breeze and the similarly directed lazy swell. No water speed records were set that day.
towards the areas well-known structures of Inner, Middle and Outer Rock. Conditions were good but again things seemed quiet.
As per the forecast the sky clouded over with the promise of rain. By the time we beached the Cod Father at camp, the promise was fulfilled and it absolutely pelted down.
We rolled with it and three hours later motored into Pancake Creek and set up camp. By a glorious sunset we were fed and settled around the mandatory campfire with tinnies in hand.
Previously we’d taken precautions against marauding wildlife and locked away food- stuffs. But we had become complacent and paid the price.
As self-appointed captain of the outfit, I reminded the crew of the water ration, which apart from the frozen drinking wa- ter equated to one 20-litre drum each and four litres of water per person per day. To spare any for a wash meant risking dehy- dration.
We returned to camp to find a mess of empty eggshells, torn flour bags and sugar splattered all over our makeshift table courtesy of one huge goanna – lesson learnt. I should have taken a photo because the table-top looked like a mad man had attempted to make a batch of scones.
On the morning of our last full day, we headed out for a final rocky reef patch dive, where we scored a few for the Esky and turned tail to come back by mid-morn- ing.
They collectively reminded me that beer contained water, and unanimously de- clared to minimise weight for the journey home – by ensuring not a single drop of alcohol would be left by the end of the week. How thoughtful of them.
Day three and we were keener than ever to ditch the rods for spearguns. We headed off toward Middle Rock where the visibil- ity was excellent and the sounder showed promise.
About 2km from the mouth of Pancake we came across a skittish school of bait- fish. Something was chasing them.
Pancake Creek is more like a river and is simply picture postcard perfect. Apart from a live-aboard vessel anchored in the creek and campers further up river, we virtually had the place to ourselves.
This greedy fella had a big appetite, in its gut were five large yellow tail scads and a heap of other stuff.
The forecast the next day was good for offshore, so we decided to hit the estuaries, which was very disappointing. Regardless of time of day or stage of tide live yabbies and other fresh bait produced nothing, not
Next we headed to Inner Rock where the current was way too fast. Dangerously fast. Once more we moved closer toward Bus- tard Headland and sounded around until
The rest of the day and a good part of the night were dedicated to slow roasting a leg of lamb and veggies over a campfire, and making a serious effort to deplete all the booze we had left.
No birds diving, no surface action and little on the sounder. A morning spent trolling different lures and large garfish resulted in one barely legal spanish mack- erel, so we headed back in.
Now, bathing daily in seawater is bear- able but it does get to you after a while, so we made the most of the deluge. We stripped off our wetsuits and stood under the tarp where rain poured down like a waterfall. It was freezing cold but still freshwater and plenty of it.
We suited up and were ready to jump in when I noticed a strange purplish jelly Irukandji looking thing float by – then an- other, and another. Not being cognoscente of these creatures, we did a Google search and in among the lengthy Latin terminolo- gy was the word ‘Dangerous’. So before it started our spearfishing ended.
Not being able to resist a last shot at a mackerel, I grabbed my gun, jumped over- board, swam toward the school and shot a nice queenfish of around 12kg.
Next morning was time to head home. After a big breakfast, we dismantled our camp, reloaded the boat and headed off.
There are no rubbish facilities at Bustard and the rightful owners must take it away. So though our supplies were seriously de- pleted, our craft was loaded to the gunwale with umpteen plastic rubbish bags. We looked like a scene from Monty Python.
All week the favourable weather had been consistent and as a parting gesture the gods blessed us with a glassy sea and no wind.
Getting set to board The Cod Father. Page 70 – Bush ’n Beach Fishing, May 2020
No record fish hauls for us but given the distance, time frame, cargo, size of the boat and the fact there were six of us, it sure was a trip with a difference.
Considerably lighter, I was able to open up all 115 gee gees and about 40 minutes later we were back at our departure point in Round Hill Creek.
Bustard Head has much to offer. The re- moteness, natural beauty, estuary, offshore and Great Barrier Reef fishing are what define this territory as truly unique.
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