WHEN THE CHILL SETS IN

The headlights pierced through the fog as my 4WD idled to the top of the bank. Pulling my beanie down tight, I stepped out into the cold July air and untied the boat with gloved hands. The ice on the frozen clay made footing difficult as we slipped the boat off the trailer and slid it 30m down the icy bank to the water.

The engine fired first pull. As it warmed up we readied ourselves for the journey downstream. I covered myself with a rubber backed travel rug over the top of my oilskin, thermal fleece, flannelette shirt, two footy jumpers, singlet, beanie and ski gloves. Hags had as many layers as I and curled up in his usual spot on the deck to reduce wind chill.

The tinny leapt onto the plane and the cold air instantly spiked at my exposed face. I weaved down river, avoiding snags & shallow water in the foggy half-light. Twenty chilling minutes running and I eased the throttle back to idle. I tried to speak, but my speech was slurred from frozen cheeks. Hags arose from his foetal position on the deck, ready to fish. Despite the cold, we both flicked out our lures and commenced our first run of the day.

The lures had only just dived to trolling depth when Conrad’s big green hammerhead was belted and he ruthlessly played an undersize cod to the boat.

“Only a small one,” He said nonchalantly.

I kept the motor in gear as he lifted a 45cm cod over the side. The boat inched slowly past a huge snag protruding deep into the 3m of water we had beneath us. My lure was neglected as I helped Conrad release his fish, when my rod bent over and the little ABU screamed line.

The cold was forgotten as I felt a good fish running down with the current. I cut the motor and angled the boat into mid-river as my fish surged toward nearby snags. The 15kg fireline was unforgiving and I soon had 75cm of prime winter cod lying idle beside the boat…..and we had only been going 10 minutes.

For many fishermen targeting Murray Cod in the southern states, the Easter and Anzac Day holidays spell the end of the cod season. The commonly held belief is that once the water cools, so does the appetite of the fish. Attention on the Murray, Murrumbidgee and Edward rivers turns to cold water species such as Murray Crayfish or into the highlands to fish for trout.

For the past couple of seasons, I put this commonly held belief to the test in the Murrumbidgee west of Wagga Wagga and the Edward River at Deniliquin. From my experience, once the mercury drops, the small fish stop biting and the bigger fish become more active.

Late Autumn on the Edward.

The children were getting testy as Rhys and I rolled into the Paringa Caravan Park at Deniliquin. The late May evening was cold as we unpacked our families and the bikes, toys, books and associated items children must have when travelling. We could hear the fish chopping on the river adjacent to the cabins and it wasn’t long before the fishing gear was unpacked and a fresh grub was lobbed into the dark water’s of the Edward River. In May 2004, we released a 122cm cod taken off the bank on a grub, and we were keen to renew this old acquaintance. As the night extended the fire was hot, but the fishing was dead.

The next morning I slipped quietly out of the cabin with my trusty casting rod and started throwing spinnerbaits amongst the snags. For an hours work I had one bite and a few tentative follows from inquisitive golden perch, however the fishing was slow and it was looking bleak.

Rhys emerged from his cabin and with both our families fed, watered and content, we launched my 385 Explorer and started a slow troll down river. The deep water cleared for water-skiing extends for about 2km downstream of the Paringa. Most of the timber has been dragged along the edge of the bank and makes ideal habitat for the cod. With a winter water depth of 2-4 meters and no current, it is ideal for trolling.

I was still setting up my rods and trying to control the littlest fisherman in my family (Tully - 2 years) as he was making his presence felt through my lure boxes, when Rhys had his 1oz purple spinnerbait inhaled.

“It’s a fish,” Rhys called as I moved to clear the remaining lines from the water, “and a good one.”

The fish stayed deep and stubbornly kept away from the boat until the 15kg braid exacted its toll and a fat 79cm cod boiled angrily on the surface a few meters away. I slipped the fish into the net and we drove the 100m back to where our families were sunning themselves on the lawn.

Rhys’ cod was photographed, kissed and cuddled by the children and released back into the depths.

It took an hour before our next bite and at 53cm it was no monster, but at least I had caught it and was relinquished from being the tour guide for the day and could join the ranks of the fisherman.

A further hour passed and at this stage it was nearing lunchtime. We were opposite the Paringa boat ramp about to wind our lures in, when Rhys’ spinnerbait was eaten by a massive fish. The cod ran downstream with the power of a nuclear submarine for 20-30 meters against a stiff drag setting, before turning toward the bank and a sunken tree.

I reversed the boat into the middle of the river whilst Rhys applied extreme pressure. Our efforts were all to no avail, as the fish weaved the braid through the underwater branches. With the line hopelessly snagged from our end, and the fish still attached, Rhys stripped down to his undies and jumped into the 14 degree water. The cod had dragged the line under and over a forest of sticks and after fifteen minutes Rhys emerged with his spinnerbait in hand. The fish was gone. Losing a big fish always leaves you feeling hollow, especially when you have just endured 15 minutes immersed in icy water.

Over lunch we discussed tactics and returned mid afternoon with two extra crew members, Bruce Catto (part owner of the park) and Ron, (on holidays with his family). Thirty minutes into the afternoon session my gold Stumpjumper was crunched. Rhys was sitting beside my rod and played a very nice 68cm cod to the boat for me. Our new crew members were amazed to see a good sized cod caught so simply. After releasing this fish, I was re-assuring them that no cod ever commits suicide when my Stumpjumper was again given a thorough thrashing by an aggressive fish. I felt weight on the fish and then nothing as the fish released itself.

For the last hour of light we persevered fruitlessly before returning to the location where I had the bite earlier. Right on cue my rod folded double and fireline peeled off the reel. This time the weight stayed on and I was able to coax a 72cm cod away from his snaggy den to the waiting net. With the setting sun as a backdrop, we displayed the fish to the holiday makers at the Paringa and released him to fight another day.

The next morning I fooled a 45cm golden to eat a spinnerbait, however a brief trolling session before lunch failed to attract any activity.

Winter Tactics

Aside from extreme cold in the southern states, winter fishing has advantages. With frost on the grass, fog on the water, and a wind chill factor well into the negatives, you are assured that each morning you head out that you are the only fisherman on the water. This gives you first option at every fish.

Water levels in winter are typically very low, which reduces the number of locations with enough water to hold fish. This pushes the fish into the deeper water which is usually on the outside of the river bends.

To enable maximum water coverage, I troll rather than casting, with large lures such as Custom Crafted Hammerheads and No.1 Stumpjumpers. Look for water starting at about 1.5m in depth, and ideally 2m and deeper, and start trolling at the bottom of a bend, working upstream weaving in and out of the snags, making sure that the lures are bashing and crashing through the timber. If the bend consists of hard-packed clay ledges, ensure that the inside lure runs hard up against the drop-off disturbing any fish that may be camping under the lip or in a cave.

In difference to the Edward and Murray Rivers which have comparatively little flow in winter, the Murrumbidgee maintains a strong current through the cold months which precludes trolling downstream, however this method is very effective in areas that have little or no current, such as deep holes or weirs. In still or slow water, a natural presentation of the lure head-on to fish as they face into the current attracts crunching strikes.

Trolling upstream does has its advantages though. It allows the boat driver extreme control over lure position and action. On still water, the speed of the boat pulls the lure through the water and brings the lure to life, but in a flowing river, boat speed works in conjunction with the current to make the lure swim. This has the desirable effect of enabling precise presentations to fishy looking locations, as boat speed can be adjusted so that the boat (and your lure) is barely moving forward relative to the bank or submerged structure. By working your rod as you pass, you can tease any cod that may be lurking into striking.

I make multiple passes on each bend and often take fish on the fifth or sixth pass. I move on when I don’t get a bite in two consecutive runs (unless it’s a really fishy looking location!).

One key factor that helps awaken cold water cod is to have as many lures in the water as possible. If I have two anglers on board, I run four lures and if I have three anglers, I run six lures. Tangles are inevitable, but by staggering lures at varying distances and depths, and by having variable position rod holders, you can maintain a good spread.

Whether the fish become annoyed with a school of rattling fake fish breaking their serenity or they really are hungry in the cold water, cod bite well into winter and with the exception of the September, October, November closed season they are a genuine year round prospect.

© Jamin Forbes June 2005