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Chilling out the season
  |  First Published: March 2014



People in a new relationship might be glad that the nights are getting colder.

I know Pedo won’t be. He reckoned that getting it on was a summer sport as his better half couldn’t be enticed out of her flannie PJs for love or money. Others have a better strike rate because of the ‘pull the doona over to your side of the bed and wait for the snuggle’ manoeuvre. Incidentally, this cunning plan has never been successful for me personally; unless you count a groin full of knee as a success, which I don’t!

But while some look forward to the chilly, dark evenings and the brisk, steaming mornings, I don’t. As I watch the summer move into autumn, the nights lengthen and the greenery stop flourishing on those pavers the handyman said were weed proof, I get sad. Sad because it means my fishing trips have to be rejigged.

No more can I cast the net out for herring, mullet or prawn and sit back next to a snag or a bridge with the drag on so tight that nothing else is as tight as it is. No more do I dream of my rod buckling over and a) snapping or b) snapping in two places as a red devil takes me into a rock hole.

In the event that a) or b) do not occur, there is a 90% chance that the line is snagged. If I am super lucky and manage to get the line away from the snag there’s a 90% chance it will be a c) Moses or d) cod less than 150mm.

The other 10% in this situation is I get the line back up after ten minutes of trying to unhook and the leader is just badly damaged enough to make me wonder whether e) I should have spent another ten minutes attaching a new one and cursing myself for taking too much time and missing the hot bite, or f) putting the same leader back in and cursing myself for using poor quality gear.

The shortening days also means no more do I zip-tie the gaping holes in the pots, and skin my knuckles trying to break up frozen fish frames with my hands and a pair of nail scissors, nor come back to the pots to find them g) full of jennies or h) full of nothing but a 149.5mm buck. To clarify that, one crab calliper says it’s 149.5mm and the other says it’s 150.1mm. This means that i) it’s 149.5mm and if I take it home I’ll get done, or j) it’s 150.1mm. This last case scenario only happens if I put it back.

I love my summer fishing. Hot days and warm nights with the threat of a storm flickering in the south west. Cold drinks. Sun strong on your back. Live bait. Cricket on the radio. Sunscreen scent. Sunburn. Warm drinks. Melting ice. Mozzies. Sandies. Thirty-knot southeasterlies. Jet skis. Ski boats. Heat stroke. Headaches. Thumping into offshore swell. Back pain. Jarred neck. Knee arthritis…

Can’t wait for winter. Love my winter fishing.

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