Team Bubi had fun.
The trip up was punctuated with too many stops, which drew it out into an 8.5 hour marathon. The fellas in Chicksloveit were drunker at each stop... Still, we eventually arrived at "Verandahs", and what a fine pad she is. Off to the pub for dinner, some lovely chats, and saw some faces that I was looking forward to!
Saturday dawned with a friggin' huge headache, and a bit too much breeze for this old hack. So we had some robust discussions about "where to tomorrow" and what tackle to take. Later it was off to the cookoff, and a very high standard was achieved. Tangles coming in last place was rough, I had him picked for second, but I did not try JD's creation. Bruce (Tropicrows) and I left early to watch the Crows game, and, while it was a top match, I nearly cried at the outcome.
Sunday saw us punching out to the reef, target - Boult Reef. 3 hours... Tired Skipper... "Try the 50 metre line behind it" was the message. We did. A few Tuskies, but nothing of note, had us a little frustrated, so we started to look further afield. "It's bloody 50m deep EVERYWHERE!!!" was heard by all within a 5 mile radius... So, pick out a mark "out there" and drive to it, watching the ground. About 8 ks from Boult, holy schlamoly, what's that??? Good shows, and a bit of motoring about showed us that this was all over the place. NICE!
By this time Bruce is burleying up nicely, and the rest of us dropped over the side. Mike's first legal Red comes up, and a nice Redthroat, but time is ebbing, and it's pretty rough, so off to Musgrave. The verdict? WHAT A DUMP! My clears had come unstitched, so we were all wet. I was annoyed about that, and poor old Bruce, after regrowing his lungs over that few weeks , had yodelled most of them up again, so I figured it was time for home. We burned outta that joint, had a quick meet with Stuie & team, and hammered for home and a nice warm bed.
Crossing the bar at night was fun. We DID find the wrong side of the outer Green marker, but survived. After painfully picking our way in with no moon, we finally got her off the water, and hit the bales. S...T...U...F...F...E...D...
Out again Monday - where's Bruce? He was having breathing difficulties aparrently, something to do with having no lungs - so we left him behind to manage domestic duties. First stop, livies. And, man, they were on. We loaded up on slimies, and headed for yesterday's spot X. It delivered...
I took first drop with a livie and a 5 kg Maori come up, double quick. I was only allowing one livie at a time, as Tangles was there... He took over, and after a while we had another Cod, a slightly larger Blue Maori! I chucked a second livie down (impatient) and BAM! A quick piscatorial debate and an 11kg Ambo comes in, PB! Soon after that a decent Spangly hit the deck too. Damo was keeping it real with the bottom bouncer, but the bait just wasn't doing the trick. He made a solid contribution to the take with a couple of Tuskies. Anyhoo, the bite shut down, and we moved off to check if that boat over there was Newby.
It was. As soon as we were in earshot, Newbs is hanging out of the flybridge screaming about Collingwood, really sticking in the boot. I didn't say anything about the crate they were fishing from, suffice to say "you came out here in
THAT???" JD and Tranter were on the back, being raucous as usual. Good fun!
We headed home soon after, pretty happy with our results.
Tuesday was a quiet day, needed a rest. Still, I got hot feet and chased the boys onto the tub for an arvy troll around the headland. A diver and a skirt, no one can tangle that combo, right? Enough said...
No fish.
Wednesday, meet up with Rhys. 5.30 at the ramp? Hey, this is Rhys, right? make it 6... Met the man on the bait grounds, and we moved around a lot, finally found some very hungry yakkas, mixed with a couple of slimies, and a lovely Bonito! Well, the Bonito went face down into a bucket with the deckwash up his schnozz, while Tangles and Damo stuck a bunch of 100lb leader and a butcher's hook on. Bunged the hook through the Bonito's top jaw, and Bruce starts to feed him out. Within 20 seconds, said Bonito has grown, and the line that was feeding was streaming out! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!! WE'RE ON!!!! 15 minutes from the ramp! Anyway, Off I go after it, and I think we managed to give it a bit of line, so he got off. Lesson learned.
Off to Bustard Head following the Flamin' Riptide (what a beautiful traveller she is!) and a troll around the rocks. Livies, tremblers, divers, no luck. Zip. Zilch. So off we go looking for fish. 15 k's along, "Stop" is the message from Rhys. So we've pulled up, and started mapping out a show. And mapped, and mapped. Holy crap, this is HUUUUUGE!!! As big as a football field! We started to fish, and soon Lee on the Riptide had 7 or 8 kgs of Islander in, and I had an Islander about 45cm. Then, for reasons I shall call "my own", we had to up sticks and pull out early. Rhys followed us in, lamenting the missing of what was going to be the afternoon bite to end all. He went back to this spot christened "Cracker" next day, and did... well. DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!!!!!!!
Hit the road on Thursday morning, and had an easy trip home, with the exception of a blown tire on the trailer. Clean up Friday and Agnes is over for another year.
Only, what, 348 sleeps to go?
Cheers,
Tim