wazatherfisherman

Hi KC lucky man! Pity others don't appreciate Alvey's like we do

Thanks Frank I've been searching for one for Pete for ages and thought -just give him one- search over! Fishraider community is just full of great folks! Thanks for the nice words Regards Waza

Thanks Pete I know it's gone to a fantastic home! All of us old Blackie fishermen deserve one! I actually only used these as Bream reels- I reckon the best Bream reel ever made. Avons/Eagles too hard to beat for Blackies! Glad you like it mate Regards Waza

Went to the Mattens below Dover Heights for a day trip instead of the usual overnight stay. Day trips usually meant far less gear, as you generally targeted only one or two types of fishing. By types, I mean methods such as Blackfish fishing and on this particular day "cunje fishing". Cunje fishing was actually using cunjevoi- those brown-topped "pods" that squirt water if trodden on, found at low tide, growing in clusters on low platforms and in amongst tidal pools, particularly where there are boulders. Inside these pods, there's a red meaty interior that most rock dwelling species love to eat. So cutting some cunje and extracting the meat for bait always provided a mixed bag of fish for the table. The sea was really flat this day, meaning getting onto most of the lowest spots, many just above waterline, which was always good. There were four of us and although I love Blackfish fishing, I spent a few hours with two of the guys- Fraser and Ben, dropping cunje down these rarely accessible spots. The fourth mate- Ross, happily got into the Blackie's while the rest of us did the cunje thing. A good mixed bag could contain Bream, Tarwhine, Leatherjacket, Black Drummer, Blackfish and the odd Groper, plus the usual bunch of unwanted species like Kelpfish (which we've always called Rock Cod), Wrasse and if your bait got too close to the bottom, Wirrah's- known as "Boots". We all used 6 inch drag-less Alvey's, 10-12 ft fibreglass rods and around 10- 12 lb mono, all Tortue "Super-control" brand- the rock-hopper's choice. Rig the same basic set-up for fishing the rocks all around Sydney- a pea sized ball sinker running freely between a swivel and the hook. No leader line required, you just use the same line you've got on your reel, any bust up from a big Drummer, or a bite off from a 'Jacket' and you just reverse the swivel end and you're back in business. That way, you only needed to carry an old film container with a few 01 ball leads, some 2/0 and size 2 suicide hooks (the 2's carried in case you struck a patch of cunje feeding Blackfish) and a couple of swivels in your pocket. Simple but effective fishing. We had a pretty good day, nice mixed bag with plenty of Blackfish, a few Bream and Jackets plus a few others and were cleaning fish well before 4 pm, in order to get back up the cliff well before dark. Fish cleaned and off on the 20 minute walk back towards the climb. To get back to the rope climb area, initially, you moved upwards to a height about 30 odd feet above sea level, well back and away from the sea, then clambered over a few hundred meters of boulders before scampering down to flat walking for about the last 200 yards, then up a little on some stepped ledges. On the trek back, Ben, who was still a junior club member and about 16, made the remark "what would we do if the ropes were ever gone?" - "we'd start by cooking your fish" the light-hearted reply. As we had a "stash" bag of spare gear hidden up high in the boulder section, Fraser and I went up to replenish it, while Ross and Ben continued on. After adding a bit more tackle to the stash bag, Fraser and I rejoined the route, finishing the boulder section, then as we started the last flat section before the final stepped-up bit to the ropes, Ben was running back towards us. "You aren't going to believe it, someone's cut the ropes" he shouted. He was grinning as he got closer, so at first, we thought he was joking. He wasn't, someone had cut the climbing ropes off at the top and they now lay dangling on the cliff wall, still attached to the "half-way" pegs. A few "expletives" uttered and shakes of heads; no way of getting up the highest part of the cliff, we were stuck at the bottom. It was early May, pretty cool air and probably about 45 minutes of light left, so all four of us separated and went searching for firewood- in fact anything that we could burn. We all had the standard rock-hopper's clothing on- T-shirt, sloppy-Joe and shorts, fine for daytime, but not suitable for just sitting on the rocks all night and no protection from the mozzie's either. So a fire made sense. There's always a few things washed up in a spot known as "suicide"- as it's right on water level and we managed a couple of bits of foam surfboard from there, then working the back of the boulder bay provided an armful of various small tree branches, bits of driftwood and the always present fence palings. For some reason, people liked to throw these palings off the top of the cliff, dangerous to those below and a constant job for the council to replace. A couple of bits of plastic to add to the collection and we had enough to burn for probably an hour or so. We gathered back at the bottom of the ropes, with our motley collection of "burnable's" and picked an undercut spot where we could sit safely, just under the cliff and with just a little protection from the wafts of breeze. A fire pile was carefully constructed, but not lit- we decided to wait until we saw signs of rescue or perhaps other fishermen, although, as it was a Sunday evening, we doubted anyone would come down until at least next morning. There was however, the standard instruction left for those at home, which was, if we weren't home, or hadn't rung to say we were on the way home, by one hour after dark, to give the Police a call. If the car/s were still parked at the top, then there must be a problem down below. This was everyone's standard safety precaution, as there were no such things as mobile phones in those days and everyone's family knew the instruction. It was the one "rule" everybody strictly adhered to- no contact meant trouble. So we made ourselves as comfortable as possible and waited. Well within two hours after dark, in the distance, towards South Head a bright searchlight appeared on the water, it was coming from a boat and trained on the cliff walls. Then a minute or two later, there were two lights, coming from separate vessels. They were still a fair way off, so we lit the fire and piled all the plastic and foam on to get it going. Sure enough, the lead vessel spotted the fire and made haste towards us, staying probably 50 yards out from the rocks. They probably took about 4 or 5 minutes to come down to where they could see the figures around the fire and trained the searchlight on us. The Water Police had arrived. We held up the ropes and indicated they'd been cut and thrown over the cliff, while doing the "thumbs up" to let them know we were all OK. They replied in kind with the thumbs up and pointed high above us, before motoring about 100 yards out fro the ledge directly below us. Sure enough, a Rescue Squad officer in white overalls was being lowered down the cliff. He reached us and we explained what had happened. To say he was horrified someone would cut the ropes would be an understatement. He said it was an act of a bastard. Then, a light appeared up at the pulley adjacent the climb and voices yelled out for us to tie the ropes onto the pulley rope, which we did and the ropes were hauled up to be tied back on again. Great! Now we can climb out- or so we thought. The Rescue Squad officer "Steve" thought otherwise. He stated that as they'd been called and he'd come down, it was now an official rescue and he said he didn't deem it safe enough for us -or anyone- to climb up the ropes. Instead, as the sea was so calm, they'd take us out by boat, Steve included. In the mean time, the ropes had been re-tied up top and the pulley was lowering a couple of backpacks down. The light and voices were from two of the Eastern Suburbs Anglers club guys who'd come down for a Bream session, Damian and Wayne, and we watched as Damian climbed down the wall. On reaching the bottom Steve had a quick word with him and gave instructions to tie our gear onto the pulley rope when they'd finished using it, as we were going out by boat and couldn't take it with us. No problem, then we four and Steve climbed right down onto the ledge under the ropes and carefully moved out to the front of the platform. You had to walk in small steps as it was slippery with marine growth, regardless of no water coming over the ledge and we couldn't wear our rock plates to jump onboard the Police launch. We'd already told Steve it was about 40 ft deep straight off the edge and I relayed the same message to the boat crew, they needed to know there was no hidden underwater obstacles. As there was no swell at all, they could bring the big Police boat in nose first and we could jump on. Seemed simple enough. The Water Police decided that due to the slippery nature of the rocks, we should all have a life-jacket on first, so they motored right up to the edge and two officers came to the bow and tossed 5 jackets to us then backed a few meters off the platform while we put the jackets on. Then they threw a single rope with a canvas circular sling at the end and one at a time, we donned the sling and simply hopped over the bow rail onto the front of the launch. The skill of the launch driver kept the bow from actually touching the platform and the tide was low enough for us to actually be just marginally higher than the bow, making for an easy jump. After each jumper landed on deck, the launch would back off a few meters while the sling was removed and the jumper ushered down the hatch to safety. Then repeat the process until all were safe on board. The Water Police were great, they gave us a blanket each, a drink and as two of the boys were smokers, a much appreciated cigarette. On hearing the circumstances of the cut ropes, they said there'd been similar problems along some of the other accessible rock fishing spots over the last few weeks. They also asked if we knew about water depth at other spots going back towards South Head, for future reference, in case they needed to bring the boats in at other spots. We were able to oblige with information on the spots we knew well. The launch arrived back at Watsons Bay wharf and was greeted by both the Rescue Squad who'd packed up from the cliff and the regular Police. After having a yak to all concerned and ringing all our homes to say we were safe, we got a lift back to the car at the cliff top. After farewells to the rescuers, we then went back down the goat track and down to the pulley to retrieve our gear. On reaching the pulley, for reasons unknown to us, the gear hadn't been tied on and the pulley rope tied off down below. So I had to climb down and back up anyway! Exactly one month later, with club mates Dave Gardiner -who operates a charter boat on Lord Howe Island these days- and Paul "Sluggo" Sullivan- now one of Sydney's best commercial fisho's, it happened again. This time however, 3 of the top section ropes had been cut, and one was left tantalisingly still draped down the top part. I actually climbed up to halfway this time and dropped the safety rope over and brought Dave up to halfway, but after discussing whether to risk it or not, decided that whoever'd cut them, could have easily cut through most of the remaining rope and although "ropes-confident", I wasn't going to chance going up on the one. Back to the bottom, firewood gathered again and this time, a helicopter with spotlight arrived first. This time the Rescue Squad arrived before the boat, same rescue officer Steve and same method of leaving, by boat. This time though, we tied our own gear onto the pulley and tied the thrown over ropes on as well, to re-attach ourselves. In the 22 years I fished the Mattens, these two incidents with the ropes being cut, were thankfully the only times I'm aware of this happening there. About a month later, when climbing back up after another trip, there were three youths sitting right where the ropes were tied onto the pegs. Where they were, was a spot you wouldn't just sit at for the sake of it and I was worried climbing the last few yards up. As soon as I got off the ropes, I really put it to them- What were they doing there? Considering climbing down- was the unconvincing reply. Then one of the other guys appeared from below and was just as concerned at their presence. We told them to move away from the ropes and come around to the pulley, where we "told them our concerns" and ordered them up the cliff, as their story just didn't make any sense. Two had ugg-boots on- not climbing suitable. We issued them as strong a warning as necessary in regards to going near the ropes, but also offered them the chance to come down one day- if they truly wanted to. There were no more rope cutting incidents after that day.

Some fine eating there Yowie

Hi BSDD as Baz says above, they are common in many species. When Luderick fishing, some times after hooking up, you lose the fish and find the doctor on your hook. Showing guys how to use your finger to remove hooks from Luderick it always creeps people out when the doctor grabs your wet finger. Have seen them snuck into rock plates a few times by practical jokers Leatherjacket sometimes have them sticking out of their belly also. Pretty much harmless to humans bar the creep factor

Hi James cuda= northern species, couta= southern species. We used to call them "Pickhandles" like noelm said pest species to us here, as they often bite jigs/gear off on the drop, but commonly eaten in other states and countries. They fish for them in Victoria

Hi Dieter not the Ben Buckler the point is named after! BBBarnacle I've never met, but do know he's both a Bondi local and an old rock hopper like me. There is some great footage here on Raider that was posted by Fishraider Cossie in relation to the Mattens. It's in a reply to the post I did ages ago called "Reminiscing, Mulloway Kingfish and the Murk effect" if you scroll down in replies, Cossie posted two short movies, pretty old footage but the cliff is the same. In the first clip at 1.14 min in you can see the climb well and a few metres under the climber pictured is where the fall happened, albeit in the dark. At 1.12 in the second clip if you look at bottom of the screen you can briefly see the foot hole Mark reached for and missed. The next one is directly under it

Thanks JAKSShark currently I have almost all my stuff in storage, including photo's and as most are old I wouldn't have a clue how to put them on- no scanner/printer or smart phone just a laptop with a few saved pics

Hi Burger thanks mate! I'm only a fisherman not a writer, but am enjoying simply remembering these events and putting them down. Hate to admit it, but some of my old notes in my own hand-writing are a bit hard to read!

Hi Pete yes he was lucky, I still can't believe he didn't break a single bone, witnessing the fall, I thought he was seriously injured and was stunned they told me he walked to the ambulance. Sorry to hear about both your mates, don't blame you for never going to those places again. Adventure is in rock fishermen's blood and it's all part of the experience, access included. "Lame" access in Sydney always meant overcrowded locations like the Murk's. Am thinking of writing a book, just for the sake of recording all these yarns. Give me something to focus on and it's making my brain "work" in terms of spelling, paragraphing etc. Glad you enjoyed the story, I can remember it like it was yesterday. Regards Waza

Hi alexoklad the guy that did the video- Ben Buckler Barnacle- did a great study which he posted on FB worth a look- called great rock fishing scrambles of Sydney. Our only real danger was in the rope climbs

Wednesday's evening forecast showed the big high pressure system hovering over the state, great!- Westerly winds and the sea would flatten from the moderate swell. The weekend trip to the Mattens was on. Thursday night shopping for food supplies, going to need more than the Vegemite sandwiches usually in the fishing lunch kit. as this was a BIG trip. We were even taking a mini gas stove down. More Gar's needed too, the home made "block" of them and the blocks of Pilly's wouldn't nearly be enough, as two more guys were now coming, making the group of us now seven. Off to Campsie in Sydney's inner-west to grab more bait. Campsie, with a big multicultural community, has always been a great place to source bait. Checking the many fish markets, you could buy all manner of different sea creatures, from tiny Whitefish to the prized Sauries- which were often marketed as "Korean Garfish" and there are always a good variety of interesting things to get for bait. The usual Sea Gars, with their blueish colouration were usually found in at least one of the five big markets, but if they weren't available, then their greenish cousins, the River Gar, with fatter bodies, were usually there instead. River Gar, although nowhere near as good as Sea Gar, would do for Tailor fishing. In our early rock fishing trips, Tailor were one of our main targeted species, due to them being readily available, good fighters and not too bad on the plate if they were handled properly. Also, in the early days, it was equally important to get a decent bag of fish to take home, to show a result for the effort and display "credibility" as a fisherman- a nice bag of 2-3 lb Tailor ticked all the boxes. Two of the main night fishing spots at the Mattens were really reliable in terms of Tailor. Big moon nights they would often hang around for hours, biting in different patterns at different tide stages. Small moon and they would generally be around dawn and dusk. The advantage of having a few guys fishing for them, is by having plenty of baits going out in a small area, there's either bait or burley- from "hit" baits- constantly in the water. Add to this, the splashes and struggles of hooked fish seem to add to the Tailor's excitement/aggressiveness, so more fishermen meant more chance of keeping the school around for extended periods and more fish caught. No bag limits back then. Bait obtained, food organised, gear sorted and packed. One more sleep, then off for our longest trip to date. The rest of the guys all lived in the Chester Hill- Bass Hill area and would pick me up from Croydon on the way through to the Dover Heights cliff about 8 pm Friday night, planning on arriving at the cliff top around 9-9.30 pm, but due to one of the guys getting caught up at work, we arrived at the cliff just after 11.45 pm. First part of the climb- the "goat track" was easily navigated, as the moon was up in the east, lighting up the track nicely.. Within about twenty minutes, we were all assembled at the pulley, where all the gear was readied for lowering to the ledge below. At 16, I was the youngest, but as I'd already been down about ten times, I was first to climb down the big rope climb, in order to untie the first load of lowered gear. I remember being really excited at the prospect of a long trip and also the near perfect conditions of a slight sea on a low swell, barely coming over one of the lowest ledges below. Prayers secretly said to yourself at the top, then methodically down the ropes in the moonlight, leaving the up top crew with the pulley loading. A bit over 3 minutes climbing and down at the bottom, phew! First thing you did was to "un-clench" your fists from the rope, followed by a good look at where you'd just climbed- there was always a sense of both relief and achievement after reaching the bottom. The first load was already dangling from the pulley rope, about two feet off the bottom, so I moved down a couple of stepped levels to reach it, pull it over to a higher level and untie it. Job done and the rope was going back up for the next load. As only four of the guys were needed for pulley duty, the other two had started the descent. Once you'd got under the dreaded "white foot hole" overhang on the first stage, where you had to reach both down and under to a small bit of ledge to get your feet on, you were then unseen to those above, and only one person was ever on each section of ropes at a time. Each subsequent climber would wait until the ropes were clear before taking hold. To check on the movement below, whoever was next just placed their fingers on the ropes and you could tell when the strain relaxed and movement ceased, indicating the one below, had made it to the "halfway" ledge, shuffled gingerly across the wall to the next set of "pegs" and taken up the next ropes for the final stage. At this point, I'll underline the prerequisites of coming on a trip down. Firstly, a reasonable degree of both strength and fitness was needed, so you had to be able to do six chin-ups with full arm extension and hold each one for 3 seconds- might sound easy, but it isn't, if in doubt, try it! This test was vital due to the need for being able to hold your own weight, while feeling for a toe hold/foot hold. It was the only physical test you HAD to pass if you wanted to come. The other requirements were rock plates affixed to good quality footwear, joggers with a soft enough toe to feel the footing of the cliff and of course you had to agree to follow any instructions on the goat track, cliff and the fishing areas. Any joking around was to be reserved for rest periods up in the camp at the cave, well away from danger. The creed of never turning your back on the sea- even in the calmest conditions, was also strictly adhered to and newbie's watched closely, as this was a common mistake on the rocks. NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON THE SEA! Mark was second coming down and although he'd come down once before, it had been in daylight, not in the dark. Usually, until you'd climbed it at least three times, a "safety rope" was tied around the chest and under your arms, fixed with a bowline non-slip knot and wrapped in a figure eight pattern around the four metal posts that the climb ropes were tied to. As the new climber moved down, rope was played out, leaving only around a foot of slack, which was just enough to ensure movement, yet let the climber actually climb independently- no lowering or free rides allowed. The rope was just as much a reassuring confidence builder as an actual safety device. On the way back up however, the strain was kept on by whoever was working the rope, as the tightness helped with the climber's nerves! I had no idea, that Mark had refused the safety rope, regardless of only having been down once. I later learned that due to he being two years older than myself, he didn't want to seem "phased" by the climb or someone younger going down without it before him. Male "bravado"? -Bad idea. After untying the pulley load, whoever is at the bottom then moves back to the cliff wall, so you aren't directly underneath the goings-on above, just in case either rocks or a loose piece of gear falls- you would never know in the dark, as you wouldn't see it come down. Over the years, several things fell and there were some very close calls experienced by those below the pulley. So after untying the first load and moving back to the cliff wall, I look up to see Mark stretching down a flat section of wall about 25-30 feet above the bottom of the ropes. It's the one section on the bottom part that's a bit tricky, with the only two cut foot-holes on the bottom section, one directly below the other. His arms are at full stretch instead of being around the ideal climbing distance of about chest-to-shoulder height and he can't find the hole, which is only about 4 inches square and an inch or so deep into the wall. He yells "HELP ME" and I know he's not mucking around, there's panic in the yell, so I say go back up a foot and I'll direct you from here. He goes back up about a foot and is now tight against the wall, but at least he has both feet on a ledge big enough to put 3/4 of each foot on and stand there. He then says he can't move, up or down- I later found out he was totally out of arm strength- so I grab the two ropes hanging next to him- there are four going down each section of climb- and climb up next to him, making sure my ropes don't knock him off the wall as I go up to him. I got to him and had my feet on the same narrow-inward ledge his were on. He said his hands and arms had just locked up- again discovering later, it was probably lactic acid build up- what to do now? Without letting go of my ropes, I put one arm around him, rope included, to help steady him, as he was shaking dreadfully, more from having clenched fists on the ropes and burning arms from exertion than fear- well, probably fear as well, we were standing side by side on a cliff wall about 30 feet up in the dark. By this stage Rob, climber three, had come down the wall and was watching from directly above at halfway, but unable to help. We stood there against the wall for about 2 or 3 minutes, while I described to Mark exactly where his feet had to go, there was no alternative, he was going to have to slide each foot, one first about 3 feet into the shallow cut hole, then the other about 3 foot directly below the first one, then 3 feet lower was another foot wide ledge. If he could just get into the two holes then down to the foot wide bit he could actually sit on that one facing outwards and give the arms and hands a rest. OK plan organised, I offered to go first and indicate the holes, but he said "no, I can do it" and I moved my arm back around him next to my side. He attempted the top hole, but missed it and didn't have the strength to come back up under arm power, so he decided to keep hold of he ropes and just slide down the 9 or 10 feet, aiming for the wider bit below. Once he started sliding, he got "rope-burn" on his palms from the drop and couldn't grip, so kept on slipping down the wall. Hitting the foot wide ledge below at speed, he then did what I can only describe as something like half a backward somersault, still with ropes in hand, but no longer able to close his fists enough to halt the downward motion using the ropes. Fortunately for him, although sliding/falling, he maintained contact with the ropes in hand, and in sort, they kept him almost against the cliff wall, regardless that he was falling. Next impact was about another 8 or 9 feet down and his legs buckled as he hit, legs first, the next protruding part of the cliff wall. From there, still ropes in hand, he tumbled about another 8 or so feet, at the bottom of the ropes, before rolling outwards, dropping another 4 feet and rolling again, this time going over the edge of the stepped ledges and falling about five more feet. He stopped rolling and lay motionless on the rock ledge, almost directly underneath the pulley up top. I raced back down the ropes and jumped down to where he was, just lying on the ledge. He was conscious and eyes open, but moaning almost silently. I told him not to move, as from my view, he must have been badly injured. Rob, about to come down the second lot of ropes and witness to what had happened, stayed at halfway, while I checked on Mark. Fearing a neck, back or spinal injury, I again told Mark not to move and yelled up to Rob that he was conscious, but not going to move anywhere. In the mean time, load number two was almost down on the pulley rope and the head of the "observer" appeared high above. I yelled as loudly as possible that Mark had fallen, but the reply from up top was "BULLS**T"- they knew him well and he was a known larrikin- nobody believed he'd fallen! On hearing this, Rob then climbed back up to the top, to raise the alarm. I moved to grab my backpack and get my torch out of an external side pocket, having the idea of shining the torch on the blood all over Mark's right side. Surely they'd believe the fall then. Speaking of the blood, there was plenty, but it wasn't "flowing", more like visible, due to him scraping his right side from ankle to hip plus entire right arm on the wall. It was more like a gravel rash- but a severe one, with plenty of raw skin and redness and blood visible. His shorts were the old nylon footy shorts and they were scraped open almost all the way to the waist and he'd bumped his head several times, in different places during the fall. To his credit though, he wasn't complaining, didn't seem disorientated and therefore hopefully not concussed. I was able to get him into the "coma position" (something I'd only just learned in Scouts) by gently moving his injured leg. He joked it wasn't much of a spot for a sleep, but I covered him with two sacks and propped his head up on a backpack. Not letting go of the ropes had prevented serious injury, even though he'd fallen then rolled around 40 feet in height. Meanwhile, Rob had climbed back up and raised the alarm with the rest of the crew at the pulley. I'm not sure who went back up and rang the Police, or where they rang from, mobile phones were long from being invented in the 1970's. The time was now about 12.30 am and I sat next to Mark and waited. To my surprise, none of the guys came down the climb, instead, around 1 am, an ambulance crew arrived at the pulley and shone a really bright light down on us, before one of the Ambo's attempted to climb down the wall, but on reaching the dreaded white foot hole up on the top section and reaching underneath, he missed the ledge and went back up. I remember thinking at the time, he was pretty brave to even attempt coming down an unknown climb in the dark. Then the pulley rope was going up again and it came back down with a medical tackle box attached, followed by another bag with blow-up body suit- including a foot pump. Instructions had been written in clay on the canvas bag using a stick, but I didn't understand what to do, just "winging it" with the suit. Before I got it half on Mark though, he said "no man, I don't want it on"- it would have stuck on the raw skin at any rate. He then asked me for his smokes from his backpack and although I didn't think it a good idea, I got them for him. All I was trying to do was keep him occupied and warm, hoping whatever help was coming next would hurry up. Then, about 2 am, there was a bright "glow" way up high on the cliff, we couldn't tell from the bottom what it was, other than it was really bright. What was actually going on up top, was the Police Rescue Squad erecting a huge framework for lowering a rescuer, complete with steel crib, all the way to the bottom. There was a large set of lights, a pulley system and a whole range of different gear. A compressor for the power also hummed loud enough to wake up the neighbourhood as well. The commotion of noise, Police and other rescue vehicles had actually woken heaps of household's up and there were probably more than a hundred or so people in the park up the top, waiting to find out what was going on down below. The going's on up top, related to me later, as I remained with Mark, at the cliff base. Around 3.20 am, the sound of a whistle alerted us to something moving, high above. The moon had now gone over the cliff, but as the whistle noise grew closer, a figure in white overalls could be seen, almost horizontal, coming down the cliff. He was being lowered from the very top and nowhere near our goat track, however he was on track to land only about 15 or so yards away from where we were. He was attached via a harness, to a steel crib stretcher, that had a thick, white rope connected to it. A few more whistle blasts and he was down. He said "g'day fella's tonight, I'll be your rescuer" -I know that doesn't sound funny, but it's made me laugh for years. His name was Dave and he'd done plenty of rescues. He had a quick chat with us and decided we could safely get the crib underneath Mark, so we slid it under him sideways and then used the crib's belts- like car seat-belts- to secure him in. Then he took one side and I the other and he blew his whistle and the rope started moving upwards, dragging the crib and us to the cliff side. One whistle for stop, two for go. As Dave was attached to the crib via a full harness, he was safe to go back up the same way he'd come down. I didn't have the harness and just hanging on to the thin bar of the crib wasn't going to be a safe option, so I had to get off my side and crawl across a narrow ledge to get back down. Dave re-positioned himself to the bottom of the crib and asked if I'd be OK getting back up without their (the rescue squad's) help and then blew the whistle again and up he went, slowly but constantly until out of my vision. I climbed back down to make sure the gear was tied back on to the pulley and climbed back up the ropes. Only Rob stayed and waited for me and by the time we got back to the top, near 4.40 am, everyone bar one ABC reporter had gone. I had no idea of the scene at the top, until back in the car on the way home. I was equally shocked to learn that after reaching the top in the crib, Mark was asked by one of the Ambo's if he thought he could walk, and he did! He walked about 15 yards to the waiting ambulance and off to St Vincent's hospital, where they kept him overnight. Not one broken bone. Almost unbelievable to me, after seeing the fall. Mark never returned to the Mattens, but the rest of us fished there for many years and Rob is still one of my best mates.

Hi John R we fished the "Block" a few times while the ladder was there. To me, just as scary as the Mattens, as the old ladder was both rickety and no longer pinned solid to the wall. We used to run 2 ropes down and just use the ladder's rungs to step on. From memory every second or third rung had a thin, solid iron rod underneath the wooden step as reinforcement, but the ladder was really old (before Steve Davies time I'd think) and plenty of rungs were broken or cracked through from being out in the weather. Once down, there was a great gutter all along the front and we bobby corked about 4 ft deep for Bream in there. As the tide got towards high, massive Blue Groper would surf a swell over and into the gutter to feed and were clearly visible, even from above on the cliff top. First time at the Block, we were actually corking off the top and when the second fish fell during the winching-up process, they put a rope around me and sent me down the ladder to retrieve both the fish. I'm pretty sure the council removed the top of the ladder after a fatality on the lower section, where part of the ladder broke off the wall and the climber tragically passed away. Other places along there I've fished are "The Logs" and "Cave" at Rosa, Rosa Gully itself, including the "Green Ledge", George St, the Lighthouse (worst climb) both Gap's, Murk, Buckler, The Boot, to name a few. Never made it to "The Alters" or the "Pillbox" near the Chapel, except in a boat. If you use the search engine and look up "Reminiscing, Mulloway, Kingfish and the Murk effect" then scroll down in replies to the post, there are two 90 second video's of Mattens footage showing the climb in better detail. Good to hear from another rock hopper and thanks for posting the picture Regards Waza

Hi Lachlan N there are Tailor and Salmon along the beach (most beaches) go in daylight hours and look for a gutter with an opening going out seawards, even better if it has an opening each end and it's between two sand banks, so you have a wave break on the sand bank out furthest, leaving the broken wave's "white water" to cover (at least in part) the gutter you're fishing in. Even if there are no fish in it initially, schools moving along the beach in search of bait schools/food often enter and have a look, just as you are doing. Tailor in particular, sometimes only hang around for a few minutes if there isn't any feed and you have to move along as they do. Keep an eye on the curving waves- often you will see fish moving through them before the wave breaks

Hi Frank I reckon so! Still would have been a degree of "palming" I'm sure. Great capture! I got 2 custom spools made for my attempt, hasn't happened yet, just a "dream"- but something to aim for in the future hopefully Regards Waza

A Marlin on a plain series Alvey, doesn't have to be very big, one of those little ones they get off the flats in Qld about 15-20 kg would do fine. Always loved catching fish on drag-less reels, reckon it'd be a good fight, even built a rod specially for it but the trip never happened- yet, anyway

No offence to you either- I only posted to see what others thought, no one is right or wrong. Was my bad for not stating properly what I meant- that all the fish seem to know what season it is and are back to "seasonal time"- some after a long absence, like the Hairy's

Hi Mullatt that would mean less reports and there are fish around all over the place. I'm thinking more of nature returning to "yesteryear" as 61 Crusher indicated also. Hopefully, this trend continues the whole year

I've been sitting here at home reading reports from all over the coast and well, frankly, after a few years, I reckon fishing seems to be "back on track" in regards to species for the time of year. The Yellowfin are around all along the coast, the Mullet moving,- usually sharks and big Jew shadowing them, Hairtail are "in" again- even in numbers in Sydney Harbour after only a trickle of them for years. Luderick are massing and Tailor back for a while now. The Kings should be well on at the Peak, but I don't know if anyone's been getting them/trying for them. Silver Trevally should be next migration inwards. Any thoughts?

Hi Dieter, when you got well practised on the cliff, you would be only about 90 seconds on the ropes going down and 2 minutes going up and yes it was a genuine adrenaline rush going down. Up was more like a sense of relief for me after I got off the ropes and "crabbed" to the pulley, knowing the worst was done again until next trip. The joy of fishing made me go, regardless my fear of heights

Thanks Rebel! The reason I just did the access, is in preparation for two more stories of falls and rescues.

Hi Pete wasn't it great to be bulletproof! Seems a LONG time ago now! The ropes always gave you butterfly's, no matter how well you climbed. Many of Sydney's rock spots have been closed off and access destroyed by councils or vandals, Just doing maintenance was both difficult and dangerous, the guys who develop spots like the Mattens must have been fearless and whoever chiselled the "white foot hole" would have been hanging out backwards about 85 feet above thin air!

Hi Frank and thanks! I actually have an odd fear of heights- believe it or not! Trouble was, the fishing there is better than anywhere, no crowds and definitely adventure, so I forced myself to go. Wally McLuckie who took us down the first few times, was fishing there every week until into his late 70's. Even after his Dr told him he could only carry 5 kg of gear- due to a slow recovering hernia, that didn't stop him, he just took his Blackfish gear, then cleaned, skinned and cut his catch up, only carrying home what went in the pan. He took a hand-line to fish for Snapper and whenever he got one (usually over 4 kg!) we'd carry it up for him. He only used 2 different baits for Snapper- either Garfish he caught himself or Blackfish gut

Hi Burger thanks! On about the 4th trip down, no more safety rope and then for a few years, no drama's. I did this description because I needed to, so as to tell of a couple more trips. You would have loved the Blackfishing down there, abundant fish and giants amongst them, with a few guys burleying, it was great action!