It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do itA lot of envy for this trip has been expressed, both before I left and also now on the road. It's never been hard to understand why, but unlike most others who travel the Aussie coastline, this is more than just a holiday to me. For all intents and purposes, this whole project has become my job... a really really low paid one at that. But I am patient and I do have a plan and so far the whole thing is unfolding much like I was expecting.
Journalistic and media work is nothing new to me really, as I've been playing this game for years. I am relatively new to writing about fishing, however, although I did spend a brief stint working as an editor for an outdoors recreation magazine. During that time I was fortunate enough to interview renowned Aussie pro angler (and knot-tying guru) Geoff Wilson. Sadly the interview was never published (the magazine didn't last long at all) but I do remember his answer to one particular question, which was: 'Whats the hardest thing about making it as a fishing journo?'
He responded by saying that the greatest challenge facing any fishing journalist lies in taking photographs... really, really good ones. That's not easy with a pocket cam – in fact, truth be told, it's nigh impossible. The fact is that the lenses of those pocket-sized cameras are fairly limited in potential. The more I came to understand this the more I knew I'd have to go to some heightened lengths to be able to capture the quality of images I wanted. This meant trading up to a more powerful pocket camera (mainly for 30 frame-per-second video) and an even more powerful digital SLR camera (plus a lens worth almost as much as both cameras put together). The former of which is always stored in a waterproof housing on board, the latter in a big protective case stuffed into a DMH roll-type dry bag.  Iluka Pelican, manually shot on a DSLR If you're wondering how I manage carrying all of that plus all of the fishing kit I think I may need (including sounder system, dive mask and snorkel), I'm right there with you. It's been challenging for sure and it's already forced me to rethink my kayak fishing strategies. Several months ago I wrote about the merits of minimalist kayak fishing, which is the approach that I took when starting out in the sport. Largely in preparation for this trip I had started to go the other way, loading up on rods and tackle in order to be prepared for any given situation. I probably could have gotten away with it all on the Outback (which has a larger rear storage well) but to safely carry all this gear into surf zones on a Revolution is probably pushing it.
So it's back to a more minimal strategy for me, which will often include leaving the sounder behind as well. In places like Iluka, for example, the sounder hardly seems required anyway – sighting fish holding areas is actually pretty easy to do here. And instead of carrying 3 rods I'll be falling back to 2. Finally, I'm going to concentrate my efforts with lures even more than I was planning to originally. That's not to say I won't fish with bait, but I won't be doing much of it. I'd rather sacrifice the taking of a few good fish for a few good photos, so long as there is a balance at the end.  I love my job! One aspect of my new 'job' that I did anticipate, but not to the degree it has surfaced thus far, is the selling of the kayak fishing concept. I think at one time or another most of us yak fishermen (especially Hobie kayak owners) have experienced the phenomenon of being approached when landing or launching the kayak by interested onlookers who typically go on to ask a 100 questions. This was happening to me almost every trip in Victoria and the same thing is happening here, only more so.
I think the reason for this is that I am staying at caravan parks when most suitable and these places are just brimming with retirees who are traveling the country at their own leisurely pace. For all sorts of very obvious reasons, the concept of kayak fishing – particularly with a pedal-powered kayak – is provocatively appealing. The Iluka Riverside caravan park (where I am currently situated) has no shortage of riverside frontage and as you can imagine many of the people staying here spend the latter stage of the afternoon watching the sun go down over the horizon. That's usually the time I'm heading back to land, which means my last few minutes of fishing has been performed with a variety of audiences. As fate would have it, there seems to be a school of Tailor hanging around out front of the park, so I've been hooking up on the troll here frequently.
That has been occurring much to the delight of said audiences, often drawing cheers and applause. And as is always the case, this is usually followed by a welcoming committee when I return to land. Yesterday afternoon I found myself talking up kayak fishing and the concept of pedal-powered kayaking to 3 different groups of people at once. I even had Hobie kayak catalogues to hand out to them (as I knew this was coming). It all felt like being a salesman all over again. But it didn't feel like selling a kayak... it was more like selling a lifestyle. And this is a lifestyle I can get behind, so it doesn't make me feel dirty at all. Not one little bit.  Camped at Iluka Riverside Caravan Park |
