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Trip Reports Hervey Bay Fraser Island '09 | Fraser Island '09 | | Print | |
| Written by Josh | |
| Monday, 09 November 2009 | |
Kayak camping & fishing nirvana - it doesn't get any better than this! Dingo on the dusk-light scavenge Several months of preparation amounted to this day so as we loaded the Adventure Islands with dry bags full of camping & fishing gear it was difficult to contain the excitement. This was especially true for Carl, who spent a good portion of the first hour or so woohooing and yeeharing. We launched the heavily (but safely within load carrying limits) laden kayaks from the calm beach on the south side of the Urangan boat marina at Hervey Bay with curious onlookers scratching their heads. Soon after launching we found ourselves bolstered by south east winds lufting the sails proudly and pushing us towards Fraser Island. Our plan here was to sail across to Moon Point and then follow the island's western coastline to the north. With no specific day 1 camping destination earmarked, today was simply a matter of finding somewhere suitable to stop. But before even thinking about landing we were determined to get some miles behind us and sail far enough away so as to put Hervey Bay well out of sight. Of course, there was also the secondary directive to catch some fish.  Sailing towards Fraser Island, Day 1 The first hook up came as we were at about the half-way point between the island and mainland - a weird looking puffer style toad fish with cow-like teeth, which I safely de-hooked without bringing aboard. The first real fish came about 45 minutes later as we trolled along the coastline, a few hundred metres nth of Moon Point. Carl's rod bent over under sail so he furled his mainsheet, grabbed his rod and started playing the game. Holgi, Paulo and I also furled our sails to watch the action. As it was unfolding before us a small powerboat nosed itself over to investigate... they'd never seen kayaks like these before, and certainly never anyone fishing from a kayak. What impressed them the most was the size of the fish Carl pulled in - a metre+ golden trevally. Now Carl's ballyhooing just got louder!  Come here, my precious! Soon after it was my turn again; while trolling at some 10km an hour a heavy hook up occurred and line began peeling rapidly. By the time I'd swung the boat around, furled in the mainsheet and picked up the rod there was but six wraps of line left on the reel and only by sheer miracle, the fish stopped it's run right there. So I swiftly pedalled and reeled the line back and took up the fight. With heavy head shakes thumping away I called it to be a big trevally before even seeing it. As it came yakside I was cautious to gaff it through the webbing of it's lip (as opposed to flesh & bone) so I could safely return it. I retrieved my Rapala trolling lure (that ultimately proved to be the most succesfull lure of the week), took a couple of quick snaps and slid it back into the drink. We were off to a cracking start.  Eyes on the prize! All told we sailed for several hours and covered some 30km, although our camping destination was about 20km from launch as the crow flies. By looking hard at the horizon we were still able to make out the blurred silhouette of Hervey Bay but by lunchtime tomorrow there'd be nothing but us, Fraser Island and a whole lot of blue water. Our push north towards Rooney's Point continued on the second day, but along the way we were distracted by countless boils of pelagic fish hitting schools of bait fish. This session turned out to be relatively unproductive and quite frustrating but at the same time very exciting and highly promising. All we'd need to do would be to crack the code and start offering the bigger fish something that looked more like what they were eating. As it turns out, the trolling lures we were using at the time weren't it. From memory, Paul and Holger both managed to catch a mack tuna each using metal slug style lures.  Big old mack tuna - a 1st for H Day two was relatively uneventful for the most part, although today was our only whale encounter - two humpbacks, mother and calf, resting peacefully on the surface. We paused for a few minutes as we passed to get a few photos but they weren't in the mood for entertaining, so we pushed on. We camped at Wathumba that night, waiting for the tide to turn back in so we could reach the inside of the nth beach. This was an excellent place to camp, with plenty of shade to take refuge from the sun and close access to beaches on the bay and creek sides. Curious dingos kept their distance as we messed around at camp, which included a few casts into the creek. That's all it took to catch fish - Holger managed to catch a small trevally and a large sting ray, Carl pulled in a nice flathead (to compliment the mackerel that Paul caught earlier that day) and I caught a couple of small estuary cod. Meanwhile Paulo was busily scheming up plans to catch some mud crabs. All of these efforts were half-hearted and non-committal at best, so one can only imagine how we'd have faired here had we really tried. But all of us were far more interested in saving ourselves for the kayak fishing. Tomorrow we would head into Rooney's Point, where we all had fairly large expectations.  Lots of these in Wathumba creek Those expectations were dashed somewhat when we reached the point and realised that it would be difficult to find a good camping spot. Sandflies welcomed us as Holger and I scouted around for patches of flat tent-friendly ground and eventually we decided that although the water here looked most inviting, the rest of it did not. With just a couple of hours sun light left we now had to decide if we should push around the point and further north, or otherwise backtrack south a little. A group discussion and weather report update consultation resulted in a decision to turn back a few KM - the wind had now swung around to the nth east, which is exactly the direction we'd need to sail in if we went north.  Rooney's Point, Fraser Island I crossed paths with a large manta-ray along the way and also saw some sharks hanging around in the centre of one of the pelagic bust ups earlier in the day. Both of them reef sharks, scavenging the remains left behind from what looked to be longtail and mack tuna. Paul had hooked into one of the longtail that afternoon but was unable to land it. He made up for this by catching a nice spotty mackerel though and this is what Carl cooked us for dinner. That night Paul suggested that the best strategy for catching these pelagics would be to position ourselves near the bust ups and try to cast a lure right into the middle of the boil and then wind the lure in like mad, aiming to imitate a scurried panicked bait fish.  Our view from camp near Rooney's Point Plans for the following day were hatched out that night. Winds allowing, we'd start day four by heading back into the waters around Rooney's (in an attempt tp catch a billfish) and later on sail back to Wathumba, where we'd base ourselves for a couple of days. We figured that it might pay to stop and focus on some fishing instead of spending so much time moving from spot to spot, and it would also give us a bit of a break from the morning and nightly rituals of packing and unpacking our kayaks and setting up and packing down camp.  Beach camping near Rooney's Point We didn't spend a lot of time fishing the following day but we did spend a fair bit of time recharging our own batteries. I was particularly drained today, due mainly to sleeping terribly, courtesy of a stubbornly injured shoulder that aches whenever I lie down. Despite this I did drag myself out onto the water for a couple of hours, but gave up when it felt more like a chore than anything else. It looked to me like the others had hit a bit of a wall as well so I wasn't the only one taking it easy today. No one fished for any longer than a couple of hours, though H did manage to catch his first big-ass golden trevally. This was particularly pleasing, as it was one of the very fish he was here to catch.  Holger is a happy kayak camper I was keen to be heading back south again on day six because it meant heading back into the territory where we'd seen the most bust ups and boils and I was hoping they'd still be there on our way back. Luckily, they were. As soon as we found ourselves amongst the boils it was time to put Paul's plan of attack into action. This was, however, easier said than done. Although bust ups were occurring everywhere, it was happening in fleeting bursts. So for the most part we were chasing around the bait schools as they surfaced. this involved a lot of sitting back and scanning the waterline. At the first hint of movement we would set sail and head towards the action. Typically the window of opportunity was small and for the most part, we only ever got a few casts in at each bust up. And our lures were competing with millions of tiny bait fish, so despite the obvious presence of fish in numbers, they weren't as easy to hook and keep hooked as one might think. And the tuna were particularly adept at spitting the trebles of metal slugs, which is what we were all using at this point. Ironically, the first longtail caught was done so on a Rapala hardbody, smashing my lucky lure as I dragged it behind me while casting.  1st captured longtail of the trip The fight lasted just over 15 minutes and involved a lot of chasing after the fish, which went on a couple of long wide runs that came close to spooling me. had I not been able to pedal after the fleeing fish, I would have done. Eventually I won the battle, but not without adding a few decibels of aching to my shoulder. It was well worth it though... it felt great to defeat another longtail at last. There was no way this fish would have survived being returned, so I decided to keep it for ourselves (sushi), the crabs (bait) and also unintentionally fed a dingo with it's remains. The sushi made for an excellent appetizer to a meal of spotty mackerel, which I also caught earlier that day.  Paulo gives the thumbs up After getting a weather forecast update later in the evening and observing that wind conditions were set to pick up over the next couple of days, Paul posed the question: at what point do we decide to call it a day early and head back Saturday instead of Sunday? Although I hadn't considered it until then, I had to admit it was a good questions - one that we deliberated for some time. Up until this point the wind and weather had been pretty much perfect, with calm seas and just enough wind coming from the ideal direction to get us where we wanted to go. But Saturday's forecast warned of rising winds, up to 20 knots from the east and then swinging to sth east. Sunday was to be similar, but with stronger winds again. Our concern here was the stretch of water between Moon Point and Hervey Bay, which is where currents converge and funnel in and out of the great sandy straight. It was fairly sloppy coming over and we were expecting it to be twice as bad for the return trip. It wasn't a decision made lightly but ultimately common sense won the day, and we decided that tomorrow would be our last.  mack tuna taking to Squidgy fish plastics It was fortunate then that we were now camped on a patch of beach positioned paralel with what appeared to be the most actively fishy patch of water on Fraser's west coast. As the sun went down we sat back watching the action continue, hoping that it would still be going on in the morning. It was and today being our last I was determined to make the most of it before having to head back to the mainland. being the first to slide my yak into the water I was also the first to reach the fish, which by now were working the bait schools just a few hundred metres south of camp. I'd given up on metal slices at this point, now approaching the schools with a 3/4oz weighted pilchard style Squidgy flickbait at the ready. First cast with the Nitro Viper placed the lure directly into the middle of a bust up and immediately I started winding in rapidly, imparting a jerking action to try and imitate panic. It worked and seconds later I found myself trying to tighten up the drag to try and stop whatever torpedo had just grabbed the lure.  Catch of the week, 126cm longtail As it sped off into the distance once again I had to pedal after the prey to prevent my reel from being relieved of line. As soon as that was under control I spent the next five minutes guessing the species, wavering between longtail and mack tuna. It turned out to be the latter - a plump specimen of about 5 - 6 kg. Lip-hooked nicely, it was pretty easy to retieve the lure and then gently return the fish to water. Minutes later I pedalled up to some more action, waited for the right moment, took aim and cast into the action, once again instantly rewarded with another hook up. In much the same manner I landed and then released another macky without spilling a drop of blood. I also caught another undersized mackerel that was returned with a lot less class.  Admire the perfection of entropy in nature By now Holger had taken my advice and had switched to soft plastics as well, trying a flickbait on one line and a shad on the other. He to caught himself a couple of mack tuna that day as well as another mackerel. Meanwhile Paul and Carl continued with slugs and as had been the case for us all earlier in the week, losing more fish than they hooked. For sure their luck would have changed if we were able to hang around but as time passed we became increasingly aware of the clock, tidal and wind movements. By 10:30 AM we set sail and made our way towards Moon Point. It was during this leg that Holger hooked the fish of the week - a mighty longtail that tested his metal for almost half an hour. This was the prize that Holger was here for and he was really caught up in the moment as he took up the fight, fully focused on landing the fish and nothing else. The rest of us were entertained as we watched the struggle continue, finally coming to an end with H emerging as the victor. This particular longtail was the only fish anyone bothered to measure, coming in at 126cm and were guessing around 15kg. Very impressive catch indeed!  Paulo showing off a thick mack tuna As we prepared for the final stretch across the raging waters where bay meets straight everyone pulled in the lines to complete the final 15km without interruption. Winds were blowing hard now, gusting around from 15 - 25 knots at times and slowly making its way from sth east to the south. And as we made our way into the slop it became increasingly apparent that it had been a very wise decision to come in a day earlier. Had it been any rougher it would have been a very difficult crossing indeed - one that we would have been hesitant to attempt. With wind and waves crashing in from the east we had to sail on our toes the entire time. I was sailing particularly quickly, but had to hold onto the furling line the entire time, continually tweaking the sail position for maximum speed and safety. At least a dozen times I was forced to release the sail to prevent myself from capsizing and there were moments that my bow was completely buried for up to 10 seconds at a time and the thought of pole-pitching crossed my mind more than once. Despite this, at one point I decided it was crazy to be sailing across such a body of water without trolling a line, so I threw out the lucky Rapala lure as we passed by a nearby sand island. We were only about 3km from our landing destination when it was taken aggressively, so I furled the sail, grabbed the rod and started reeling in what I thought, and hoped would be a Spanish mackerel. Winds were raging hard and the water was slopping around like a washing machine and as I fought the fish and observed Carl and Holger pass on by I realised that all anyone wanted to do right now was cross this treacherous stretch of water. So I worked to make for a quick fight and very soon I was seeing a long flash of silver underneath. Could it be... yes... no... dammit... a shark! Although I couldn't quite ID it's species I figured this would be a good opportunity to test out the Shark Shield, so I deployed the antenna and just as I was about to turn it on, noted how much distance Carl and Holger had travelled. Paul had stopped, but by staying out here I was compromising our safety and clearly the will of the group, so I quickly worked to bring in as much line as possible and then leaned out to cut the line. Dammit... I really wanted to try out the shield, not to mention retrieve my lucky lure. But at the same time I completely understood the other guys desire to get the hell out of here so it made sense to move quickly and get back on track. All told our Fraser Island kayak camping & fishing adventure lasted for 7 glorious days and although it would be fair to say it could have gone better (the experience taught us a lot about how to do it even better next time), it would also be fair to say that it went just as well as we could have hoped for. For one, the weather was simply perfect almost the entire time. Especially the winds, which save for the final hour on Saturday, played ball almost the entire time. When we wanted to head north the winds came from directions that helped get us there. When we wanted to go south it helped get us there. So we were blessed with some of the best sailing conditions imaginable. Rain held off for the most part as well and was never an issue for us to be concerned with either. Simply put, the fishing was exceptional and our approach was an exciting way to go about doing it. Although it was more challenging than it might sound (there really were millions of fish out there) we were all able to catch some great specimens. It would be safe to say that we all caught our fair share of fish... but not more than our fair share, and that's as it should be. Our strategy consisted mainly of trolling and approaching bust ups and although the former is a little passive, the latter is highly active. So much so that we all agreed what we achieved out there could not have been done in a typical kayak. This is due to the fact that there were many times that we had to sail towards the action and most of the time there was no other way to get there fast enough. When the boil ups erupted typically we had about 30 - 45 seconds before the action would submerge, at which point it usually started up again several hundred metres away. I'm yet to calculate our actual mileage, but believe me, given our loads and fishing distractions, it was impressive. All up we travelled well over 200km, all of us managing to reach speeds of over 15km an hour and typically averaging about 9-10km an hour. And yes, a lot of our hook ups came this way. By far the most enjoyment came from casting into schools though, which although at times frustrating and even physically demanding, was highly rewarding whenever stars aligned. Our Fraser '09 expedition was definitely the start of something beautiful and for us is destined to become an annual trip. The experience was the consumate example of why the Adventure Island is named what it is - if not anything else, our expedition was true testimony to it's namesake. We're already looking forward to next year and now that we all have a better idea of exactly what to expect, will be even more successful next time around. Group numbers will remain small, however, as among the many things that went right for us, this was one of them. Group dynamics was excellent (no personality clashes) and our numbers were easily managed. It was very easy for all of us to appreciate how easily things could go pear-shaped on a trip like this though, and is most certainly not the kind of expedition where a lack of experience, equipment or judgement would accommodate. In an upcoming post-mortem style article I'll discuss the varying factors that went right and wrong for us, and I think that will prove to be invaluable reading for anyone planning on undertaking a similar adventure. *Video report coming soon    |
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