Survivor - Cod Country

[slinkymalinky]

What began as a simple reality fishing trip soon became the stuff of legend. A legend now spoken of in central-western NSW as...

THE BALLAD OF DANNY COD

3 men (Jewhunter the Elder, Slinky Malinky the Rounder and Outdoor Dan the Not So Old and Not So Round) drove to where the rivers flow West. A wide land... a harsh land... a land where the nearest Macca’s is hours away and toilet paper is worth its weight in gold... a land home to the Mighty Goodoo.

Transported by 4WD on rough bush tracks to the banks of a river on private property, the 3 were deposited at an equally rough bush hut and told to survive as a tribe for 3 days.

JH as tribe elder made a plan. In addition to survival basics (fishing rods, reels and about 2,340 spinnerbaits and surface lures) each tribe member would be allowed a single personal item.

JH chose to take his “Shirt of Endless Shame” with which to try dazzling or confusing his tribe mates. Unfortunately, the reaction to the “Look at Me, I’ve Been In The Bass Electric, Aren’t I a Legend Even Though I Look Like A Total Tonker” shirt was not the awe and respect he had hoped from the tribe.

Slinky chose to take “The Fly Rod of Poncieness” which inspired similar disrespect. By choosing to attempt fly fishing in the company of heathens... the size, quality and very existence of Slinky’s man-bits were often called into question. But all were at least impressed with the giant hairy Cod Merkin fly. If you’ve never seen a Murray Cod with pubic hair, this is where it all went.

Dan’s choice was so simple it really wasn’t a choice. Both for the sake of himself and his resident tapeworm ‘Tapey’, his personal item was 1kg of spicy meat twiggy sticks. Over the 3 days his choice would test both his intestinal fortitude and the durability of the tribe hut’s septic system... and because twiggy sticks have a half-life of nearly 100 years,the region around the hut may now be uninhabitable for decades.

Friday Afternoon - first team challenge.

Cracks in the tribe began to appear immediately. While JH and Slinky began unpacking the transport vehicle, Dan disappeared “to have a look at the river”.

His tribe-mates weren’t concerned. They knew Dan (like Slinky) was a Cod Virgin and because of the ENORMOUS challenge of catching the elusive wild Murray Cod, he was unlikely to be able to steal any kind of early march on the others.

Dan’s cod virginity lasted exactly one cast. The rest of the tribe was toiling to pack potentially life-saving fluids (necessarily stored in individual blue cans) into the tribal esky. Dan meanwhile was squealing like a girl as his spinnerbait was inhaled by a couple of kilograms of suicidal Murray Cod of within a stone’s-throw of camp.

Such was the rejoicing of the tribe that many sacred words were yelled at Dan (words which because of tribal tradition and Australian Obscenity Law, cannot ever be written down)

Friday afternoon - first immunity challenge

With the survival stores packed away, the 3 tribe members boarded transport for the immunity challenge. Whoever could catch the most Murray Cod in the late session would be immune from washing up.

Slinky became a Cod Man after around half a dozen casts. A strong performance that would be repeated 6 times through the session (including once on a surface lure). Ensuring immunity from everything except the acid caress of the prolific stinging nettles and the even more acid comments from JH (who could only manage 3 fish).

Dan meanwhile had decided to breach tribe protocol and disappear from sight into Brown Snake infested jungle, where the slightest misstep could result in a tumble down jagged granite boulders into cod infested water. Unfortunately for him the particular bit of water he found wasn’t quite as infested with Cod as Slinky’s bit.

It is just possible that Slinky’s success was due to his use of Secret Stealth Boot technology. Doubtless the quieter approach of socks on rocks was less threatening to the resident green fish. JH had a chance to hone his survival tracking skills by following a trail of sole and liner fragments from pool to pool.

After returning to the tribal camp in darkness, the ritual first meal of twiggy sticks and blue can fluids was supplemented by spicy sausages and onions cooked up by JH. That night, the tribal area resounded to the haunting calls of a flock of Crested Bum Buglers.

It was decided that the immunity challenge had no clear winner so the washing up was left (ultimately for the entire weekend). Slinky maintained that the other tribe members were just sore losers.

Saturday

Needless to say, with the coming of daylight on Saturday the air was thick with more than just anticipation. Rods were rigged, spinnerbaits were tuned, Slinky set up his ponce rod and insect repellant was applied by all.

The next location to be investigated by the tribe required a long 4WD journey across the ridge lines, fields and valleys into an isolated stretch of river gorge.

The Crested Bum Buglers had apparently nested in the car in the morning so it was windows down for the trip. They were far from the only wildlife on the journey too. The large property was almost overrun with groups of deer, mobs of Grey and Red Kangaroos...

... And goats. Lots and lots and lots of goats. You’ve never seen so many goats. An interesting fact about the property where we stayed is that if you lined up all of its goats nose to tail, there’d be a FREAKIN’ LONG LINE of stinky goats!

Oh, and did I mention they were stupid? When the 4WD came roaring towards them they would stare stupidly at the tribe-mates; run around a bit in circles crashing into fences, bushes and each other like the Keystone Cops; race to a safe distance (usually between 2 - 3m from the track); stop; stare stupidly a bit more; then do some more running and crashing in circles with a few stupid bleats thrown in for good measure.

One majestic Billy with a big set of horns was impressive though. He was standing majestically alone on a majestic ridge rather than running with a not-so-majestic mob... so when he majestically ran around in majestic circles he only ran into bushes and not other goats. Dumb goat!

At this point, ‘Survivor’ got interesting. Secretly overnight, JH and Dan had formed an alliance. Their plan to get rid of Slinky for the morning was devastating in it’s subtlety.

It began with constant suggestions of the danger of trying to fish in socks (the stealth boots having been retired, hurt). “You can’t walk around like that on rocks all day”, “don’t our feet hurt”, “there’s lots of snakes around” and “go and get some firggin’ boots” along with other comments were constant?

Helpful comments were made about the closeness of the nearest town with a boot store “I reckon you could be there and back in only an hour”.

Dan made certain to point out that he and JH would be fine to wait by the river. “You just honk the horn when you get back and we’ll come and meet you”.

Foolishly, Slinky was duped by their combined sly cunning and drove across hill, dale, river crossing and road to town. Having found a boot store he promptly made the return journey (via McDonalds to have something marginally more nutritious for breakfast than twiggy sticks).

The return journey was nearly 3 hours and Slinky’s joy at having new boots was quickly dampened on arrival back at the river. After honking the horn without response for several minutes, he set off to find the other tribe members. He found them and suddenly realised he’d been duped!


In those 3 hours, JH and Dan had caught and released another 10 or so cod with several around 4kg and one up around 7-8 kg. This put Slinky at risk of being voted ‘most gullible’ at tribal council. At least there was some minor consolation in that JH had managed to turn his 6kg baitcast stick into a short-stroker (but even broken off at the 2nd runner, he still managed to catch a fish on it before Slinky got back).

To try to make himself more valuable to the tribe and recover some lost ground, Slinky decided from that point to assign himself as the ‘human tackle-back’. Whenever a lure or spinnerbait got hung up in accessible water, a quick dip... a fast swim past the tiger-leeches... and the lure was saved.

Now let me tell you about the beginnings of the Ballad Of Danny Cod. Of those 10 fish caught in that session, 8 were taken by Dan. Building on the ‘first cast loss of Cod virginity’ from the previous day. Dan was on-fire.

He had tied to his line the mankiest, smallest, scruffiest spinnerbait imaginable with the hope that he’d lose it on a snag somewhere. Instead, everywhere it landed seemed to hold a cod with apparently poor eyesight and no discernment for quality tackle. After each fish, Dan would bend the wire back into shape, try to re-secure the stinger hook in the shredded soft plastic tail, test is to make sure it would swim slightly better than sideways, and get straight onto catching the next Cod with it.

He possessed an almost mystical ability to cast far into the bush on the far side of the river, lassoo a tree, and with a little flick of the wrist, have the spinnerbait come free (and often fall with a plop onto the head of the nearest Cod). There is some evidence that Dan’s funky smell may have had something to do with the irresistability of his lures to Cod. When in sight of fishable water Dan also moves faster than the eye can see, so JH and Slinky could never catch up with him long enough to hog-tie him and rub their lures on him before fishing, to test the theory.

Saturday Arvo

After returning to the tribe area to refuel on twiggy sticks, the afternoon session was decided as a chance to explore a new stretch of river with bigger pools and dramatic, deep, sheer-sided gorges. I think the haunting calls of the now resident Bum Buglers are still echoing around in those granite canyons!

We’re not sure what the area is called but ‘Canyon of Slow Burning, Itchy Death’ could well describe it. Rumor has it that these gorges will be nominated as a world heritage area as the best example of native stinging nettle forest still in existence.

For once, JH managed to beat Dan to the first prime casting possie. Proving that age and cunning can still beat youth and fitness. First cast from a large flat rock and JH was continuing his morning’s work, landing a fit 3-4kg Green Fish.

Cracks however were beginning to appear in the alliance. While JH struggled to photograph and release his fish, Dan almost trampled him in his rush to get at ‘the rock’. Ownership of ‘the rock’ became hotly disputed with Dan’s cry of “get of my $^&&* rock!” sparking a row that continued to simmer for the remainder of the tribe’s stay.

Each new, good looking casting spot became somebody’s “*^* Rock”... failure to get off a ‘called’ rock, would result in a torrent of abuse.

The practice began to get a little out of hand when Slinky had to cross the river by swimming with a badly injured arm (courtesy of a spill into the rocks). With his gear, fishing outfit and boots all rigged to his backpack and using an inflated wet-bag for buoyancy, the swim ended at a rock along the deep edge upon which Dan was standing.

Apparently, rescuing a drowning Slinky contravenes rock etiquette so Dan left him clinging desperately to the edge while he cast to and caught a cod that Slinky’s swim had obviously berleyed up.

But trying to drown Slinky wasn’t Dan’s only underhand tactic for the afternoon. While traveling down one side of the Gorge with JH (Slinky had wisely crossed to the other side), they came upon a sheer cliff. The cliff stood between the 2 tribe members and the next good pool. Now it’s possible that Dan’s motives were entirely innocent but what happened next could have reduced the tribe by 1 member permanently.

With the agility of a mountain goat and his much younger legs, Dan managed to traverse the cliff face by moving from one precarious hand-hold and foot-hold to the next. “It’s easy!” he shouted to a dubious looking JH. The evil glint in Dan’s eyes showed he was well aware that JH’s legs were a good 30cm shorter than his own. He was visibly disappointed when JH actually made it across the cliff face (albeit with different coloured pants than when he started).

In the lower deep pools though, the fishing continued to turn on, particularly for Dan. After peppering one particularly promising pool with over 40 casts between the 3 tribe members for no result, someone threw a switch and every cast for the next 10 minutes got hit. Dan landed a beautiful 7kg fish on his mankie spinnerbait.

By the end of the session Dan had landed 16 fish for the day. There was just enough time to head to another spot with longer, slower pools for an evening surface session.

A couple of fish were landed by the boys before both JH and Slinky decided that they were too old and hopeless to keep fishing in the dark. With typical determination though, Dan just kept casting. And boy, did it pay off.

The first that JH and Slinky knew of the drama which unfolded was when Dan came crashing through the bush in the dark, hissing spitting and cursing like a rabid wombat. The language wasn’t just blue... it was full ultra-violet.

Without lip-grips or help, Dan found himself connected to The Old Man of the River. After gently sipping a big Kingfisher lure from the surface, all hell broke loose as a monster felt the hooks.

While it didn’t take long runs, all the big Cod’s massive weight went into bulldogging dives around rocks, branches and any other obstruction it could find. Everything held together and the Ballad of Danny Cod was made... at 109cm and an estimated 50lb, it dwarfed every other fish caught for the weekend. Not bad for a bloke who had only caught his first ever Murray Cod the day before!

At tribal council that night, Dan was torn between elation at catching the monster and being let down by his tribe-mates who weren’t there when needed to take the great photos a fish like that deserved. A whole lot of twiggy sticks were needed to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.

For Slinky and JH, beer was a better choice than twiggy sticks. Slinky got cooking duty (which pretty much consisted of reheating a cooked chicken). JH got moral support duty (which pretty much consisted of patting Dan on the back and thanking him for not killing him on the cliff so that he could bask in Dan’s reflected glory).

The session next morning was quiet with some overnight rain slowing down the bite considerably. Dan and Slinky both picked up a couple of fish but once the sun got up a bit, the tribe retreated to the tribal area to eat the last of the twiggy sticks and get packing.

The long drive back to Tweed Heads was pretty uneventful (if you don’t count the speeding ticket on the New England Highway).

It’s tempting to say that Cod Fishing was the winner on the day but without doubt ‘Survivor - Cod Country’ is Dan. In 4 sessions, 2 Cod virgins and the tribal elder managed 40 fish. 21 of them were caught by Dan. Awesome!

And still today, you can hear the echoes of the great cods splashing and the ghostly curses of Danny Cod, echoing in the valleys and gorges of New England. And ever more the Ballad Of Danny Cod will be told in hushed tones around fires and bars.


THE BALLAD OF DANNY COD

It was dark along the river

The sun had sunk from view

And the Bum Buglers had settled for the night

All alone upon the bank

Little Danny had a plan

He was itching for a monster he could fight

So he lifted up his rod

And whispered a short prayer

And threw his lure out into the gloom

Where Old Man Cod was waiting

Looking for a feed

The lure splashed down in his living room

Dan saw the sipping splash

“another little flipping fish”

Then all hell broke loose upon the nighted shore

Up and down and round about, the mighty Goodoo lunged

Dan wet his pants and danced and danced

Until the fish was done

Now, Danny has no mates of course

So none were there to help

Instead he had to improvise

And land the Cod himself

With fear and curses on his lips

And mud upon his hands

Dan wrestled with the monster

Until it swam on land

“Where’s my bloody camera”

Whined Danny in a tizz

As he photographed his bum

While trying to shoot the fish

Old Man Cod was grateful

As Danny slid him back

But Danny boy was ropeable

“Where’s that friggen’ track?”

Crashing through the bush

The night was getting late

And curses flowed like water

As he fumed about his ‘mates’

“Where were you, you mongrels”

and many words I can’t repeat

“You could have bloody helped me”

We just stood and shuffled our feet

“All I wanted was a photo

of me and my big Cod”

Said Danny in a huff

But at least he got one

On the bank

And that has to be good enough

And to this day you’ll hear the sound

Along the river bank

Of Danny and the monster fish

We can only dream that we might catch.

Edited February 23, 2012 by slinkymalinky

[Hodgey]

You have waaaay too much time on your hands, Mr Malinky! A full cup of coffee was required to wade through the entire ballad, including prolonged viewing of some amazing photos. Take a bow ... a bloody great read! Good to see you all got into some green fish. Grant's total is extraordinary, considering the handicap he had with that god-awful shirt!

Cheers

Skip

[sadamson]

In the future school children when studing Australian bush poets they will have an other text added to the list

Man from snowy river,

Clancie of the overflow

and now

THE BALLAD OF DANNY COD

Bango Patterson,

Henry Lawson

SLINKY

Great report you are all legends

cheers stephen (Reggie the Rabbit)

[kaiser]

Absolutely grouse! Well told adventure and great pics. Thank you

[outdoordan]

Your a maniac slink!!

Absolutely awesome post... not bad for a fly ponce!

Thanks for a great few days

[Moro Mou]

Love it!!!

[jimmy72]

great report !

thats one top trip:thumbup:

[irongustavius]

What a great report. Love those fish and it's some lovely looking country as well.

Plus no mention of intimacy with brown snakes and leeches, so that's gotta be a good thing.

[big Neil]

Skilled fishermen and survivors x 3 and a budding biographer thrown in. Well done on a gr8 and comprehensive report. Big Neil.

[Jewhunter]

Great report Slinky!

Thinking back to last w/end I still lmao about the whole trip.

It will go down as legend as one the best plans the elders have ever made.

My camera hasn't pulled up too well after a trip across the river in your "dry" bag!!

When I pull the pics from the card I'll post them up.

The highlight fishing wise for me was watching a 7-8kg cod swim from out of no where & inhale the lure a foot from my rod tip in full view. Great sight & one I'll always remember.

More later with some pics I hope!!

Cheers,

Grant.

P.S On the 2nd morning when Slinky went boot fishing Dan & I actually got 13 cod!! 8 to Dan & 5 for me. It was a terrific session with 2 double hook ups on 5-6kg cod!!

[paul.kenny]

Outstanding report Slinky, it made a very mundane day in the office more exciting........I felt like I was there beside the survivors! With all the rain hammering the southern Barra impoundments again this year I might need to consider a Murray Cod trip for my spring fishing trip instead of chasing Barra.

[Langa]

Wow! fantastic report and pics. Well done, I've got a mate with some wild water running through his property up that way, your report has motivated me to motivate him! I've got some planning to do.

[Jewhunter]

Hi all.

Here are a few of my pics from our awesome trip.

I don't really know how I could top Slinkys' report so I won't write much.

The 1st pic is of my best Cod for the w/end. Around 7-8kgs & it smashed the spinnerbait at my feet 1 ft from the rod tip in full view.

Got a couple of nice fish on the surface as well. Only a couple, but the 8 or so explosions & missed hits just add to the excitement.

What an amazing place to fish. There are so many cod out there & the company & adventures had with the other two clowns made it a very special trip.

Cheers,

Grant.

[arpie]

Awesome Post, Slinky!! SO GOOD, I reckon it should be STICKIED!!?? Whaddya reckon??

Well done lads - an awesome number of golf & green caught & released - top session for top buddies!!

THAT trip will be hard to top, I reckon!! The stuff of legends .......

cheerio

Roberta

[bassboy888]

i have read this report a few times and gets better with every read. congrats on the fish, every one would have been special in its own right. Makes me want to tick the cod off my list even more now. Just gotta convince some one to go with.

Cant wait to hear another epic tale in the future. well done again!