Fishing in the creek 

Before I start this tale I will warn you that this is not fiction. I have not put this story on my page before because I didn't want to be accused of lying. I am including it now because of a complaint from the other guy in the story, rightfully saying that our adventure put the other stories to shame. It is the facts as best I can recall them about a real fishing trip with a good mate.

I grew up in a small town Gracemere, just outside Rockhampton in Central Queensland, Australia. We used to get up to all sorts of adventures on the weekends, there were 3 good swimming holes within riding distance and plenty of camping spots too. One of my favorites was Fairy Bower, unfortunately it only runs after heavy rain and slowly dries up afterward taking a few weeks to form pools of water separated by stretches  of sand. At the time this story took place we were about 12, about 1982. One Sunday I was told by my mate Jamie that you could catch small fish in one of these pools using a pin as a hook cotton as line and the top end of a cheap fishing rod as the rod (it had to be flexible). I think the bait for the day was bread. We headed out on our push bikes and after the 20 minute ride (dirt roads back then) came to the creek. 

The pools of water were  up the creek from the crossing so we went up the track and parked the bikes. Jamie was the expert at this fishing spot so he showed me his technique for hooking the little fish. They were small (up to about 10cm) and so needed patience and a delicate hand.  The hooks (bent pins) had no barbs and it was a real art to try and catch these fish. The pools of water would dry up in a month or so and the taking of small doomed fish wasn't seen as any crime in those days..... The delicate art of hooking of these small fish seemed to elude me that day. I remember Jamie ribbing me about his collection of Perch and bony bream while I was still fishless. By 3:00 I was bored and frustrated when we noticed shadows  moving in the pool of water. The pool was about 10m long and 4m wide at the middle tapering off into narrower ends the water was weedy and slightly muddy. We talked about what the shapes might be. 

As it was Summer and I was bored Jamie and I decided to try and see what it was. We got in the water and found it was about waist deep at the deepest point. Trying to block anything from getting past us we tried to heard the unseen creature into one of the shallow ends of the pool of water. The worst it could be was a small croc!!! 12yo boys have more guts than brains and all we wanted to know was what it was.  

As we neared the end of the pool we saw swirls and knew it was fish. Good size fish. Then all hell broke loose. The fish were mullet and when as we had trapped them they decided the best way out was to jump out of the water to get past us. One hit Jamie in the guts and winded him, one got me, needless to say it had surprised us. There were heaps of them. After we caught our breath we did what any kid would do, try to catch one. Our options were limited but we were keen. We had done well herding them, so we thought now we knew what they were, we could corner them again and just grab one. That should work......right! The mullet didn't think so. Nearly all the mullet were over 30cm (1') and most were closer to 60cm. Ever tried to catch a slimy 1kg torpedo heading toward you at chest height doing 40 k/h ? Jamie coped another hit that bent him over (Didn't do him any harm. He has 3 kids now :-). After trying this for a while the water was getting fairly muddy. We had caught 1 in the 30 minutes. It was then that we noticed all the little dimples on the surface of the water. As we had stirred up the mud the fish were having trouble breathing and gulping air on the surface. I headed up the bank and came back with two thick sticks about 60cm long. What fun. 

We could walk quietly around until we saw a dimple on the surface, raise the stick above our head and beat the living daylights out of whatever was making the dimple. A bit of a luck dip really. A 1" fish that has been struck with the might of a wrecking ball does a strange dance along the top of the water. All was going well, we had about 10. Jamie said he had one sitting on his foot but when he moved it went to swim off. I slowly reached beneath the surface until I felt the culprit. I grabbed it and held on for dear life. Jamie tried to help and we both wrestled the monster to the bank. A 120cm (4') eel lay on the bank with 2 boys trying to hold it. When they say "as slippery as an eel" they mean it. After beating it sufficiently with the waddy we left it with the other fish. More beating at the water with the sticks produced our grand total of 31 mullet. At well over a kilo each it was a good haul. Now how to get them home. 

My Great Grandmother "Weir" lived on the other side of the creek not far away, so I went so see her for a bag to carry the prize. As all "Great" Grandparents should be she helped as much as she could. Try explaining that you need 2 feed bags to carry the fish that you just caught in a puddle in the creek to a 90yo lady. Anyway she gave me 2 potato sacks and wished me well. We loaded the fish into the sacks (the eel had disappeared)  and came to the next problem. They were heavy. It was starting to get dark and we couldn't ride the bikes and carry the fish. We rested the fish on the bar of the bikes and pushed the bikes to the road. Luckily there was a family fishing without luck at the crossing. You should have seen their faces when they saw the bags of fish. As they were heading back into Gracemere they offered to carry the fish for us in the  bread van they were driving. 

I was staying over at Jamie's  place in the caravan park that night so we hurried there. As it was dark now the van kindly drove behind us with the lights on us so we could see. Whoever that was thank you, I have forgotten now who it was. But Gracemere was that type of town. As we neared the caravan park Jamie's parents were coming the other way, worried about us they had come looking. They scolded us and told us we aught to have been back before dark. We tried to explain but who'd believe that story. Anyway the van was still following so we hurried back to Jamie's place and unloaded the fish. We thanked the man and gave him 2 fish. 

After being in the weedy water our legs were itchy and we were muddy so Jamie and I headed off to the shower block. Jamie's parents didn't know what to do with all the fish. After Jamie's parents telling one of the residents the tale, he offered to buy some as crab pot bait. Word spread and the fishermen came out of the woodwork. I think they came to hear the story and see if it was true as much as to get some crab bait. When James and I returned from the shower there were only about 4 left. That was all that could fit in the freezer. Didn't we itch the next day. We both had a rash on our legs but the money from the fish (about $5) bought some drinks and ice cream at the shop and made it feel better.

Well there it is, believe it or not, it is the truth to the best of my memory.

Thanks James for the e-mail. It's the memories like those that make me remember what life is all about.