wazatherfisherman

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!

Thanks masterfisho7!

Fantastic fish!

Hi Going Fishing that's great! It's my first attempt at REALLY trying hard to do a location description in detail! Just what I was trying to achieve🙂

Hi JAKSShark I thought I'd better put in a decent description of what the place is like, due to having so many stories from going there. Very pleased it's turned out well enough for you to get the "feel" of the place!

After becoming a regular fisherman on the rocks at Dover Heights, you began to get to know the climb. I don't just mean know the way, but really know every step, particularly on the largest of the two rope climbs. From the moment you got over the cliff-side safety fence, within a few yards, you're on your way downward. The first part down is very steep going, with soft, shifting sand, held together by a little coarse grass and small shrubs and by the time you've gone down about 50 feet in height, you're now out less than 20 feet eastwards- towards the ocean, from where you started at the fence. From this point on, any slip outwards and it's a huge drop, all the way to the bottom- not entirely a vertical fall all the way, but you would tumble, with nothing to grab for and then be over the vertical wall of the cliff, about 270-280 feet above the ledge below. If you slipped up on this section, there was no chance for survival. Edging along foot wide bits of sandstone, walking on angled overhanging ledges and protrusions, and in one spot, on pre-marked foot spaces, the white marking paint barely visible from years of being trodden on. A few places, along and below this section, you have to face into the cliff and edge along in a crouch position, there are a few small, purpose cut hand-holds, no hurrying along this bit, as you had to make sure your backpack doesn't get caught anywhere on protruding rock, especially just above your head, so you lean out backwards. It's slippery along here, water seeps through the rock naturally in a couple of spots, even if it hasn't rained for weeks. Grab the hand holds firmly. The rods, secured tightly to each other by either 3 or 4 straps or bits of cord, useful in some of these "mini-climbs" as a steadier, like an extended walking stick. Everyone had to carry there own and for much of this access, you couldn't even pass your rod to one of your companions, rather instead, "set" it, leaning in towards the cliff, or pushing them sideways as you passed difficult parts. The fibreglass copped scrapes, no matter what care was taken, I doubt today's graphite would stand up to the treatment anywhere near as well. A lot of guys hated this mid section as much as the rope climb, but personally, I didn't mind it compared to the ropes below. It takes less than 10 minutes to traverse this top section and finally, you found yourself on a narrow angled ledge, again with a few cut foot marks, which sat only about 8 or so feet above an equally narrow path, going downwards, in the opposite direction from where you'd come. In effect, you were "zig-zagging" backwards and forwards as you moved down. Foot down on top of a piece of old pipe that had a "T" junction hammered on to make a step about 3 inches wide, then a rock used for another step and you're on the path. The path trails steeply down for about 50 yards and is clay and dirt, no real danger walking the path, providing you stay away from the "drop" side. Then suddenly, you've arrived at the "small climb" - an almost vertical wall, dropping about 35 feet down. Atop this climb, a large, iron peg (we later replaced it with a big stainless one) is cemented in, with two ropes attached, left in place permanently. There is a natural ledge about halfway down the wall, that was undercut enough to comfortably lean on while holding the rope, and chiselled-out foot steps. These steps, mostly between 2 and 3 inches deep, just enough to easily get the toe of your shoe in and were spaced alternately down the entire wall, every left and every right exactly below each other. This made for easy sliding of your foot, just reach straight below the one above, making for easy reach in the pitch dark- fisherman's climbing times. Alternating foot steps meant you could hold your rods in one hand and simply hang onto the two climbing ropes in your other hand. Why two? In case one breaks, permanently set ropes are exposed to both water run-off and the sun. This climb was basically one foot after the other, going straight from cut hole to the next, it was relatively easy. You climb with your legs, not hands, your hands are there holding the rope as a "steadier"- same as climbing a ladder. Then you scramble down about another twenty feet below the small climb's wall and you've reached the final stage. Backpacks off, rods down, you've reached the pulley, sitting on the most eastward part of the cliff, well out from the vertical wall and from where the gear and rods are lowered to the the ledges below The pulley is a very basic frame, shaped like a "T" with an extended length top. The downward post, cemented into a chiselled hole about a foot back from the edge, the top, extending out about 30 inches over this edge and the opposite end about 6 feet long, bolted to the wall with about four or five bolts. A pulley wheel on a strong frame bolted to the T and a rope roughly 120-130 feet long tied to the frame and threaded through the pulley wheel. This was always a hated job, due to someone had to lean out over the edge, holding onto the frame, to thread the rope. Nothing underneath the pulley for about 120+ feet. One of us would then crouch and move crab-like, to the left, back inwards under a long overhang, about 4 feet high and about 40 feet to where the main climb sits. Then, after shaking the ropes to "dust" off any debris, make their way down the vertical wall. While one climbed, the remaining crew tied the backpacks on and after taking the strain on the rope, carefully pushed the gear over the edge, making sure it didn't swing on the rope. Once lowered, the first climber, after reaching the bottom of the ropes, would then untie the load, rope pulled back up and the rods would be tied next, to come down butts first. If there were only two of us, packs and rods were lowered together, with the rods hanging about 4 feet below the packs. Doing the lowering in this manner, once the rods reached the bottom, a bit of a push on the rope ensured the packs didn't end up on the rods. The last ten or so feet, one of those lowering, would move to the edge, take hold of the pulley frame, lean over slightly and direct the "push" of the rope, so an accurate landing was achieved. Then the pulley rope untied and dropped over as well, There were several reasons why the rope came with us, firstly, if anyone got washed in, the rope could be used as a line to help get them out. Secondly, if you were going to leave it attached to the pulley, you had to tie it off to a protrusion below, so the wind wouldn't get it, as we'd already had a couple of ropes blow into a crevice, high up and out of reach, getting wedged in by the crown knot used to "seal" the end of the rope. If someone else came down, they had to untie the rope from the frame and carefully remove from the pulley wheel, so as to tie their own rope on, since the one already in use was tied off at the bottom. Thirdly, for a period, the ropes were being stolen while we were down fishing, making for an annoying and slower retrieve of the gear via the climbing ropes. The climbing ropes were permanently in place, tied to and around 4 large iron pins, about an inch and a half thick. The pins had been placed in deep holes, laboriously chiselled out with a star chisel in years gone by, then cemented in place in a large cement block. The ropes were replaced spasmodically, whenever wear was noticed or they started to look too swollen from being wet too often, for long periods. These ropes were around an inch and a quarter- inch and a half diameter and your life depended on them being kept sound. Two ropes hung off each side, so you could have two in each hand, again, like holding the sides of a ladder. One of the groups of guys fishing the spot, were firemen and they had great quality ropes and replaced them every twelve months or so, if not earlier. Other rope sources were both the ferry's and also the army, as both organisations generally replaced their equipment regularly. To climb the big wall, straight down, was always a bit scary, prayers were often said, and everyone would watch as each climber carefully and methodically descended, about 30 feet to the "moment of truth" as it was known. At that point, the downwards wall went under at 90 degrees and you had to feel underneath, sight unseen, for a ledge that was down about 3 feet and in about 18 inches. There was a chiselled foot hole on the wall a few inches above the overhang-the "white foot hole"- it was called, you couldn't see it on the way down, but a white painted stripe on the wall above it indicated where to slide your foot, until about an inch and a half of the toe of your right shoe slipped in. This same overhang created the biggest nervous moments on the way back up, as a long stretch, followed by a real good push upwards from the "white foot-hole" was required, before safety was at hand. After getting both feet on the ledge under the overhang, one more long step downwards put you on slightly more comfortable footing- a near foot wide ledge, from which you would then turn side on, never letting go of the ropes the entire way down, (other than to change over to the next set). facing north, and descend the next 10 or so feet to "halfway" via a series of small protrusions, about 2 inches wide, where the ropes were also attached to another set of pegs, similar to the top set. The ropes had been carefully measured out when installed, leaving enough rope to reach the halfway ledge, yet enough to travel across to the halfway pegs, which sat about 12 feet to the side of the vertical. "Halfway" was about 2 feet wide and really solid, unlike the series of protrusions just navigated and a spot to get your breath back on the way back up, during the return journey at trip's end. From here it was roughly 60-65 feet down and although the first 10 or so feet offered decent toe holds for your feet, for the next 50 something feet, spots to place your toes on were at a minimum, with not many spots to get any more than just your toes in at best. About 25 feet from the bottom, there was a flat spot on the wall, with no toe holds at all, but 2 holes had been chiselled about 3 feet apart, one exactly below the other. A 3 foot stretch, first hole, then 3 foot to the other, then another 3 foot to better footing. After this, there was a ledge about a foot wide, that you could stand on with both feet, albeit snug against the wall. Then, some basic honeycomb wall, with plenty of places to put your feet and you were down! Although there is a really nice platform down about another 15-20 feet directly out from the climb, about 750 meters south is the main and largest fishing area, complete with a great "cave" and multiple fishing spots, so still about 15 or so minutes of boulder hopping and a couple of simple climbs to go, then fisherman's "paradise"- almost every species of fish commonly caught around Sydney's rocks available. The trip back was generally an easier climb up the ropes, due to the fact that you could see where your feet were going to go, unlike going down, where you were feeling as much as seeing. Over the years, we took plenty of guys down and would tie the "safety rope" around them and then thread the rope around the four pegs at each of the two stages. They still had to climb independently, but the reassurance of the rope around their chest, got them up and down. In around 22 years of going down, only 2 guys "froze" on the cliff face ropes and both had to be manually hauled/dragged up. None of the regulars complained or bagged anyone for getting as far as the ropes and deciding it wasn't for them, some people didn't realise until they were actually viewing the rope climb- always better to be safe than sorry. My own brother finally came down after years of thinking about it and then deciding he wasn't going to attempt the climb back up. He calmly said "when you get up top, just ring the helicopter for me, there's no way I'm climbing back up there" Fair enough, so we called the Police and the Westpac chopper picked him up and dropped in the cliff-side park within 15 mins of the call. They said the same thing- rather pick up a healthy patient than a body. At the bottom of the cliff, you may as well have been in another country, so isolated, yet so close to civilisation, but when we were young and adventurous, it was fitness, fun, fishing and adventure- all within a short distance from Australia's largest city. JUST A WARNING!!- anyone considering doing trips like this, NEVER go without experienced companions- I mean experienced on a regular basis at the actual location you're planning on going to. No adventure is worth risking your life for. Hope those reading enjoyed the read. Cheers Waza

Hairtail's teeth-

Hi JAKSShark for me it's Kingfish, They fight hard 95% of the time and at times are extremely hard to tempt, they get you to try different ways to fool them into taking the bait/lure, so they get you thinking as well. Also great to eat

Good luck Dan, they are getting them in Cowan now as well as Sydney Harbour. A bit shy last week they reckon and ganged small Pilly's WITHOUT wire was getting more action last weekend

Hi JAKSShark thanks glad you enjoy them

Hi Dieter lucky that didn't land on you or your gear, that stuff can kill you. What I didn't mention in the story was the amount of fence palings that came over, all removed from the cliff-side fence, which was about chest high. Made long lasting firewood. There was usually enough stuff around the back of the boulder bay we had to pass for a small cooking fire

Hi KC not quite as fine as gemmies but they go with anything. They are getting them in Sydney Harbour again and plenty, albeit small so far, in Cowan If they're finicky, either no wire and gangs, or light wire and single hook. I always make long traces- about 60-70 cm for them so you can let them have the bait as long as necessary without a bite off.

Hi Neil sorry I missed replying- the fishing was great and you could successfully target heaps of different species during one trip and expect results on what you were after- well mostly. After a while though, Kingfish and Black Drummer were the pick of the big stuff to chase, Bream and Luderick the small's.

Hi Rebel really glad you're enjoying these

Hi Pete, never took the camera down the cliff, any photo's I've got from actually at the bottom were taken by others. Sadly, most of my photo's I have of fish were taken in my backyard! Not exactly very interesting! You're right about what we could have shot though, amazing sights and "one- of" occurrence's. That rock comp was it for me

Hi Pete we only carried those really lightweight old nylon type raincoats due to the bulk/weight factor. The very last Sydney Rock championships we fished, it absolutely teemed on the Sunday morning and we had to get about 850 fish plus gear up the cliff, then drive to St George and Sutherland Shire Anglers club for the weigh-in- about 40 minutes drive away. It was in May and really cold. Due to being held up by rival Easts anglers at the one pulley, we were running out of time and had to leave all the rods and gear along the top section of the cliff and only make the dash with the sacks of fish, before returning in now torrential rain, freezing cold and exhausted to then collect the gear. It was a "super-human" effort, but 10 of the 11 of us needed the next week off work and school.

Hi Neil we had a cache of spare stuff in an old vinyl Adidas bag, stashed in the boulder bay you had to climb over to get to the most fished south end. The rats got in by eating their way through and only ruined the toilet paper. We thought they were eating it but later discovered it in nests more than 200 meters away.

Hi KC Hairtail are great to eat, always been one of my favourites. Like Zoran, I cut mine into 8 in chunks, then fillet the chunks, cutting from dorsal edge towards centre of the fish, right on the bones, the fillet then "folds" over the the spine as you run the knife along the raised spine edge and back flat along the bones. They are really easy to fillet ad you get no bones at all and have almost no waste whatsoever. The filleted frames look like the classic "cartoon" fish skeletons A lot of my friends like the skin and I never bother getting it off any more, you can take it off simply after it's cooked if you fry it or bbq it. Just flour it for the bbq, but cook well any method from steaming to frying

Fishing really "opened up" for my mates and I after joining a fishing club, the club members all friendly and really knowledgeable. More like "passionate" about fishing would be a better description. Before long, we were fishing all over the place around the Sydney area. Firstly, it was mostly around Sydney Harbour, where we'd been fishing for quite a few years already, then rock fishing came into the picture, with the prospect of more consistent, better sized fish for shore based trips. If you fished off the ocean rocks during the dusk or dawn periods, Tailor were pretty much a "given" from most Sydney ledges in the 70's and 80's, add some Bream and Trevally, plus the odd Bonito or Salmon-(the Salmon not as common as they are these days)- and that was the general "low-light" species assortment. Day-time, add the now hated Leatherjacket (by most it seems!) along with Black Drummer (now called Rock Blackfish) and of course Luderick for those "in the know" of catching them. Every now and then, someone would get a Snapper or a "Jewie", but these were more of a chance encounter than a targeted species in those early rock fishing days. Kingfish, although often sighted and occasionally hooked, managed to evade capture for the first couple of years, mainly due to the inexperience of those on the rod and some of the locations being totally unsuitable for landing anything large. As time went on, after excursions all along the southern Sydney coastline, pretty much from Burning Palms in the south to the infamous "Gap" at Watson's Bay, we eventually became regulars at the "Mattens" below the towering cliffs of Dover Heights. Climbing 400+ ft cliffs, is definitely not everyone's cup of tea, but guided by early rock fishing mentor Wally McLuckie (great name for a fisherman!) who was a long time member and the veteran champion of the A.F.A club and reigning Sydney Metro Division Veteran Rock Champion of A.F.C.A clubs, we learned both the right way down the hidden "goat track" and the method of climbing the two big rope climbs down the final 160 odd feet. No gear was carried on the last rope climb, which was roughly 115 feet, straight down a vertical wall. Instead, it was all lowered from a permanently mounted pulley, with a lowering rope about as thick as your finger. The climbing ropes were anchored by four solid iron rods, cemented into a tiny, flat spot at the very top, protruding up about a foot and around an inch and a quarter, inch and a half diameter - roughly the same diameter as the ropes. As a comparison, the ropes are a similar size thickness to those used on the ferry's at Circular Quay. Watching people in movies climb cliffs on ultra thin ropes gives the wrong impression, you need thick ropes to hang onto properly and you need two ropes- one in each hand for steady climbing. Once down at the bottom of the climb, a huge expanse of area was available to fish, encompassing virtually all types of rock fishing waters, from waterline rocks and ledges to high cliff-side perches. A natural "lake", gutters, an island, several bombie's and plenty of deep water "straight-edges" along with 5 platforms completed the location. Sea dependant, there was always plenty of places to fish and most of the time, plenty of fish. Over the years of fishing the Mattens, with exposure to the great variety of species and the styles of fishing and methods needed in the different locales, experience grew. Instead of just going fishing for whatever we could catch, species would be targeted specifically and mostly, by working to the rough plan of what we were after, the results got better and better. Having said this, you still had to be willing to do different things if your chosen quarry simply weren't on the bite, so the tackle kit had to expand. By expand, I really mean become more specific, as you could only carry a limited amount of things in your backpack, leaving of course, plenty of room for the catch. Due to the difficulty of the climb, trips quickly became overnight affairs, necessitating a "full kit" of gear. When you spend around 24 or so hours on the rocks, you of course have time to try a variety of methods, necessitating different tackle. Mainly, we carried 3 rods each, all 9-12 ft one piece. In summer though, that could change and mean 4 rods and 4 or 5 reels, plus the associated tackle, food, drink, rock-plates, float tube, keep-nets etc. Even the hooks and sundries in the small tackle box were limited to only the necessary items, so as to stay within the limits of both weight and space. The pulley rope was dropped from the pulley and carried to the fishing areas as a safety line, in case someone got washed in, but again, had to be carried the last 750 metres around the rocks at the bottom to the spot as well. Generally, on these overnight trips, we based our "camp" in a wind eroded cave, set well back and high up above the water. It was also set well back underneath the cliff, and had a nice flat area to both sit and lie down on to give the back a rest. Between fishing sessions, we'd go up to the cave, which of course meant going underneath the base of the cliff wall. Going under would expose you to anything that came over the top of the cliff and vigilance was needed looking up as you ran to the safe underneath wall. This "vigilance" became second nature as time went by, even through the night, when you couldn't see anything coming down from above anyway, you still looked up and bolted the last 6 or 7 yards to the safety of the wall. All bar two of the different fishing areas, are well out from the base of the vertical cliff wall, so while fishing, you didn't have to worry about falling objects. Falling objects?? Plenty of things come over the top of the cliffs, presenting another danger to add to the list of concerns for the fishers below. It isn't just waves and the swell that can do you in, being hit by a falling object from 400 feet above means serious, if not fatal injury. Often, clay, dirt and small bits of sandstone would come over silently, dislodged by either wind, water or the cliff dwelling creatures, such as lizards, pigeons or Sulphur Crested cockatoo's- which seem to nest in cracks and crevices. Rats also lived all over the cliffs, but being pretty sure-footed, they seemed to get around easily and silently, without dislodging much of the constantly eroding sandstone. Every so often, a larger rockfall would take place and it was hard to tell what size rock it had been, due to it pretty much just "disintegrating" on impact. Now and again, a mudslide would occur after heavy rain, bringing down mud, sandstone and cliff-side plants. Mostly, there was no warning, or sound until it crashed onto the ledge directly below. Then there were objects that came over from one of the eight or so houses, whose homes backed onto the cliff edge directly above us. A letterbox drop of PLEASE DON'T THROW OBJECTS OVER THE FENCE AS THERE ARE FISHERMEN BELOW put and end to much of that though. Most of these homes had swimming pools as well- it is a very exclusive and expensive area- and a few times, a pool seemed to be emptied, straight over the cliff, causing mini "avalanches" of debris, but mainly just water- still annoying and scary if you were needing to get past it below. The Mattens wasn't the only rock spot to have these problems, "The Block" accessed below Eastern Avenue and Rosa Gully just a bit further north, had houses above some of the main fishing ledges and things often came over there also. The "Lighthouse" platform, further along towards South Head, had a more sinister problem though. Down the bottom of the cliff, well back from the water, were stacks of bags of dead dogs and cats- I mean stacks, we saw about twenty broken open bags, in various states of decay, suggesting that it was a regular dumping ground for them. There were a few different theories, from council "disposal" to a an unethical vet. First time I was there, we reported it to the Police on the way back. Worse even still was fishing at the infamous "Gap". There are two completely separate platforms at the Gap. The more northerly one was easily accessed, by just hopping over the fence back up in the corner above the boulders and climbing down a short, permanently fixed iron ladder of about 10 or 12 feet, then scrambling a short distance around to the ledge. This ledge sits out a bit from the cliff and not much other than people's take away food packaging and the odd drink bottle came over. The second however, sat almost directly below a much higher part of the cliff, only accessible via a short rope ladder that was dropped through a hole in a ledge, only about 20 odd feet down below the cliff top. Then you walked and climbed down a fairly accessible route to this larger of the two ledges. I personally only fished each spot a couple of times and only rated them as average spots, compared to others along the South Head to Bondi stretch of coast. A few of the club guys that didn't fancy the real big climbs, fished there a bit though, mainly at the rope ladder spot (Big Gap it was known as) and they had a few stories of things coming over. One night on a weekend, three of the club guys were fishing Big Gap on a really dark, moonless night and had three separate "incidents"- firstly the empty coin box of an old pay phone came over, smashing almost on their gear. About half an hour or so later, the metal inner bin of one of the old style council garbage bins came down and frightened the wits out of them, fishing only about 30 yards away from the impact zone. They decided to get out of there after that, but before they'd finished packing up, a pushbike was also thrown from the top, narrowly missing them as they were just about to leave. Considering it's about 130 feet down to the ledge, it also made a heck of a crash on hitting the bottom. As well as these incidents from the other locations, there were other unsavoury episodes at the Mattens, such as youths throwing stones at us from the very top of the cliff, stones bigger than eggs, that would certainly kill you from over 400 feet above. These weren't sandstone, but river stones and had been purposely taken there to be thrown at the fishers below. One trip, there were about seven of us staying put under the cliff wall, as two throwers rained rocks down from above. They couldn't see us once we got underneath the cliff base, but kept on bombing us by using a third kid as a "spotter", who was motioning to the throwers from a better vantage point about a hundred yards further north, which allowed a view of where we were sheltering. Steve Davies, who owned South Sydney Bait and Tackle and his fishing buddy Tony Clibborn, both from South Sydney club, ended up making a dash around the bottom without their gear, in an attempt to catch the mongrels, but by the time they got about halfway up the goat track, they were spotted and the bombers bolted. Same three youths (they were easy to spot as one had really long white hair) also liked setting fire to the small amount of cliff-side vegetation and the fire brigade came more than once while we were watching, fishing from our front ledge, through summer. Problem, other than the obvious fire, was that this vegetation- small shrubs and plants- helped to keep the cliff-side intact. Destroying the plants and their root systems, had a big effect on soil erosion up near the cliff top. After any significant rain, less root systems meant more mud-slides and rock falls. These youths also started stealing or destroying climbing gear that was left in place and became a dangerous trio. Their mindless vandalism and rock throwing was reported to Police, however, at that stage no action was taken. The rain, also had a significant affect on climbing the cliff, other than the more slippery rock surfaces, the ground that wasn't rock was either really sandy coarse soil or (mostly) clay, which turned to thick sticky mud in any large downpour. The ropes too, would have a steady stream of slippery, clay "juice" running down them, then down your arms and saturating your clothes, luckily though, the old "Sisal" ropes or the quality ropes sometimes sourced from the fire brigade guys (who fished it sometimes) held up well to water on them and were still OK to climb on. Plenty of trips in summer, a southerly would blow up overnight and you'd be climbing out in pouring rain. Other hazards were birds nesting in the crevices adjacent the climb, I had a pigeon fly out of a crack, it went between me and the cliff while I was stretched on the ropes going up and luckily for me I managed to "rope-burn-slide" down a few feet, rather than fall about 60 or 70 feet to the bottom. It just startled me and got me off guard. That happened the same day as a Blue Tongue lizard fell from the cliff, landing between myself and mate Ross, as we walked back out to fish after having a lunch break under the edge. On this occasion, we suspected it had been hit with a shovel or similar, and flicked out from above, as we were some 15 or so yards out from the cliff wall- a bit far for just a straight fall. Imagine having that engraved on your tombstone- "Here lies Waza, killed by a Blue Tongue lizard"- just doesn't seem right! Anyway, for those fishing under cliffs or wanting to, consider some of these incidents when planning a trip down.

Hi James when I was in my teens we used to be able to fish Taronga Zoo wharf and I've seen them do that there before, just sit virtually motionless in the shadow of the wharf. We already had live Yakka's when the Kings turned up and although we ended up virtually dropping the Yakka on the Kings heads, they didn't go for them. Has happened to me plenty of times in plenty of places. Happened out off Jibbon when we saw the massive school of Kings in the shadow of the turtle, then they just switched on. They might have been after those tiny "Jelly Prawns" about a cm long, and the mere presence of Kings schooled up freaks out any schools of Yakka or other small possible prey. Sometimes, no matter what you do, they just aren't interested. Especially lure fishing for them, they'll just switch off a particular colour that you're catching them on and all of a sudden switch onto another colour. A trick game fisherman Hank Newman showed me to use for trolling when fish are there, but not taking, is to tie a single strand of thick, coloured wool, only about an inch and a half long, to the bight of the hook, so it travels as the furthest-back part of your lure. Regardless of the lures colour. A few minutes of trolling and if no result, change the wool colour until you get a strike. The top game guys often have a stack of different wool colours on their boats

Awesome fish!

Thanks for the good wishes, I'm OK, the road to recovery is just really long, but far from insurmountable. I'm not in any serious trouble, especially at home and I'm also enjoying the writing side of this

Hi Dieter yes was cheeky, but I was wondering if they had simply gone off due to the sun now being above the pool or they weren't interested in the lures. I have since learned that Bass LOVE those black shrimp, no matter where you are. We got the same black shrimp down the Shoalhaven and got Bass on them straight away as well

Hi Neil great story! Glad you got out and got a couple of fish, Carp fight long on light tackle. Hope you get to see the crow again soon Regards Waza

Hi Dieter and thanks! It was more like Flathead crawling skills, I've seen countless flattie impressions since then, and even though plenty have had great definition, none have fooled me as much as that one did- maybe "once bitten twice shy?"