DAIRY FARMING

Marty Asmus and I were sitting at my kitchen table scanning through topographic maps, searching for access points to the Murrumbidgee downstream of Wagga Wagga. This stretch of river has large areas where public access is limited. It’s here where the best fishing is found and where we concentrated our search for new water

Accessing the Murrumbidgee River along its length is usually gained through Travelling Stock Reserves (TSR’s), State Forests, or through private property. Many public access points to the river don’t have boat ramps, or even suitable banks for launching boats of any size. As such, locations available to the general public with suitable launching facilities are in peak demand and are heavily fished.

The maps showed a prospective area known as the ‘Dairy’, which is a former mail route passing through private property between Narrandera and Wagga Wagga. The track is shorter than what it was historically, however the map showed several kilometres of river frontage. We didn’t know the condition of the track, or even if it were accessible, so we planned an exploratory trip.

Marty and I had fished for Murray Crayfish downstream of the ‘Dairy’ previously, accessing the river through a landowner, but we had yet to test the populations of native fish.

The drive from Wagga Wagga passed quickly as tactics for the day were discussed. We agreed that my Prado could get the boat into just about anywhere so launching in dry summer conditions should pose no problems.

Arriving at the end of the aptly named River Road, we were confronted with a gate displaying a ‘Do Not Litter’ sign. This was the place.

The track through the property can only be described as rough. The hard packed river clay was cut-up by 4WD activity in recent wet weather. The summer sun baked each cavernous hole and rut rock-hard, causing the trailer to dance wildly as it trailed behind. In wet weather the track would be extremely slippery, limiting access to 4WD.

The first ramp (if you can call it that) is a steeply sloping bank a few hundred metres from the gate. In anything but the driest conditions you risk your vehicle slipping backward into the river if you launch from here. Further down the track are several excellent camping sites with more ‘boat friendly’ launching sites.

After bumping through a couple of kilometres of track, we carefully descended down the bank onto a broad clay ledge at river level. Marty and I both smiled at the ease of launching the boat from this bank, and also the prime locations to fish for Murray Cod offered right at our launch site.

My 385 Explorer slid easily off the trailer. I parked the Prado under a shady tree and ran back to the boat. This water looked fishy and I wanted to waste no time.

The boat drifted gently downstream as we fumbled to attach our lures. I opted for my favourite lures, a yellow/black Custom Crafted Hammerhead and a black/red Australian Crafted Invader, whilst Marty chose a gold Stumpjumper and another yellow/black Hammerhead.

The four stroke Yamaha purred silently as I clicked it in gear. The lures dived synchronously toward the bottom three metres below. Immediately my Hammerhead was crunched by a strong fish.

I knocked the motor in neutral and was surprised to feel little weight on the line. The culprit soon revealed itself as a 40cm Trout Cod. The Trout Cod is a protected species requiring that they be returned to the water unharmed, but they are fantastic by-catch. They fight like a fish many times their size.

We made several passes along the 500m of clay ledge where we launched the boat for no more fish, before we boated downriver searching for new water.

The sounder showed several promising bends strewn with sunken timber, however after a few kilometres we found what we were looking for. A quick pass with the sounder showed three to five metres of water and a forest of snags beneath the surface of a large horseshoe-shaped bend.

‘Perfect,’ Marty said.

I didn’t have to respond as my grin said it all.

Weaving through the snags, my Hammerhead was rattled by a small cod. The hooks didn’t stick into this fish or the next two that attacked my lures on this first pass.

The second pass through this magical piece of water paid dividends as a fish darted out from under a clay ledge, inhaled my lure, and bolted downstream with the current. The 15kg braid quickly slowed the fish and it surfaced 20m behind the boat.

‘A nice fish,’ Marty said as he reached for the lip gripper.

The cod splashed angrily on the surface, lunging away from the boat before Marty clamped on the grippers. At 65cm and about 5kg, it was a solid fish in unfamiliar water.

Buoyed by our success, we fished hard for the next two hours for no result. A couple of small nips at the lures were testament to the bite shutting down.

Travelling further and further downstream we fished some excellent water, but couldn’t raise a fish. A sudden change in the weather from hot & dry to hot, humid & overcast was the switch that altered our fortunes. Whilst trolling a nondescript bank with little structure and barely two metres of water, I had a double hook-up. Both cod were undersize, but we were hopeful that the fish may have turned back on.

On the next pass I missed a good bite, which ripped off a few metres of line before the fish spat the lure out. Working this bank further could not raise the fish to bite again, so we started moving our way back upstream toward the car.

A series of missed strikes ensued before Marty got the hooks into his first fish of the day. This fish was small, but welcome. Marty followed it closely with another juvenile cod on the next bend and was threatening to peg back my lead, but time was against him as we both had commitments at home cutting our session short.

With Marty’s confidence high, we decided on one final pass along the ledge where the boat was launched.

The fish finder showed the bottom dropping abruptly from three down to five meters. The current was swirling wildly against the clay wall, with a small pocket of still water behind a large clay boulder.

‘That drop off should hold a good fish,’ I said as the boat passed by.

Moments later, a large mouth opened behind the boat and inhaled my lure. I felt the wide, slow headshakes that a big cod performs to rid himself of the prickly mouthful he has just eaten. Despite my rush of adrenalin, I was mindful not to put too much pressure on at this crucial stage, however this time the fish was successful, and the lure was rejected. With our deadline passed, this was an apt finish to our “Dairy” reconnaissance.

As I winched the boat on the trailer, and with the feeling of that last bite still buzzing in my mind, I was already planning my return.

© Jamin Forbes February 2006