Fishing Australia

On our last day we met up with a local droving family the who live in the closest house a couple of kilometers up the road. The scene had changed yet again, stock horses and cattle men who make a living grazing stock in the small patches of grass that dot the hillside.

Having grown up on a cattle farm myself, riding trail bikes and horses really appeals to me, and before long I was invited to join in a river crossing on the tamest stock horse in the group.

Despite having spent plenty of time in the saddle as a kid I was a bit rusty and it took me a minute to find my horse calming persona, not that it was needed-the old fella was more interested in a drink from the river than bucking me off.

Crossing a river up to the horse's belly was not a worry, but the boulders the size of a footballs were. I wouldn’t have done this on my own, but the drovers do it all the time and I still can’t believe how sure footed these animals were. All crossed with ease and will have done the same many times since.

An area next to the Lodge is an official horse resting area that’s part of the national stockmans trail; it’s sort of like man from snowy river country just hot humidy and bassy rather than snowy damp and trouty. All part of the attraction really…

Sometimes the drovers go searching the hills for ‘gold nuggets’-wild unbranded cattle that bring good dollars for those skilled enough and tough enough to catch them.

The drovers spoke of upstream nugget country that even kayaks and heli copters can’t get too; horseback is the only way. It’s week long swag trip and the bass fishing up there can be even better…maybe next time!

That night we decided to do a little night fishing using surface lures that imitate the bass’s favorite food the Cicada; which had been humming happily in the air 24/7.

This was a merry muck up from the start; a piece of timber flicked up off the track and broke the 4WD’s rearview mirror, hence the newly name for the spot: ‘rear view’ pool.

It rained on an off, there was some nice poision ivy itching my leg, and a farmers dog spooked the bejesus out of us when it jumped out of the bush and crash tackled Youngy and then in the theme of the night only to precede to lick him to death.

I missed having my kayak so I could retrieve snagged lures and avoid slippery rocks, but cripes I haven’t laughed like that in ages, and that was before Youngy slipped in. I asked him how deep, but a glimpse of his floating hat in the torch light answered my question...

The next day we went back to kayaking. Exploring downstream of the lodge we spotted some unusually big and deep red colored dingo’s, along with deer and wild pigs.

Few things reveal more about nature than kayaking quietly along a river and despite a few passing thunderstorms, the dropping temps and getting soaked tails, we had an enchanting time.

The rain and cooler weather brought out the fight in the bass-one I hooked zipped up the river with such speed that spray came off the line where it sliced through the water: ferocious, scary even.

This is what bass are famous for; pound for pound no freshwater fish in this country can match their speed power and stamina. These are the elite athletes of the piscatorial world and the fast flowing and ever changing Macleay keeps them in peak condition.

Finishing off with a few PB wild bass without having to fish at night was pretty cool.

This was a great adventure in every regard and if you liked it, I have saved a few very special surprises for the Fishing Australia Episode we captured…it airs in June this year.

See you on the water.

Rob Paxevanos