As described in the previous chapter, the Kingscliff rock platform was a special place to fish in the good old days. It particularly stood out as a place to fish for jewfish in the daytime and big tailor in the middle of the night. The South End was by far the best place on the Kingscliff rocks to catch jewfish, but it was really not a good place to catch anything else; in fact, it was remarkably poor for several other species. This lack of appeal to species such as tailor and bream was actually a significant benefit to its value as a jewfish spot. It was extremely rare to catch even a single tailor or a bream there. Thus, tailor seldom troubled live jewfish baits and bream and/or butterfish did not rat a big cut bait. Even wobbegongs were relatively uncommon there. All of these other species could be big problems when fishing for jewfish elsewhere around the rocks; particularly in The Alley or off Round Rock.
As we have seen, the rocks provided variable habitat for quite a few species. But even when conditions were relatively deep, there were other factors that needed to be aligned to support quality jewfish fishing, particularly in the daytime. When they did line up, the fishing could be as good, for me at least, as any fishing I have encountered anywhere in the world.
The first of the priority conditions was the abundance of the prey species described in chapter 8. It quickly became obvious that the more mullet, whiting or luderick that were about, the better the jewfish fishing. No serious angler needs to be told that predators aggregate around prey and places where they can access it. Food is obviously the primary driver of much fish behaviour. But how do fish know where the food is, or is likely to be? There is now ample evidence that fish have memory. They clearly also have the ability to learn. Tuna long-line catch statistics confirm beyond doubt that the reason catch rates decline so quickly when new areas are fished is driven much more by the learned behaviour of the fish than by the drop in abundance that the fishing causes.
My personal observations of bonefish on the sand flats of New Caledonia have provided one of the most compelling pieces of evidence I have witnessed of fish learning. In the twelve years I have fished there, not once have my colleagues, both of whom are eminent fisheries scientists, and I had better fishing on the second day in a particular location than we had on the first. All other serious bonefish fishermen we have discussed this with agree. The New Caledonian guides will not take clients back to the same place even two days apart. The ‘places’ are not just small areas where you may be able to cast, but rather individual large sand spits of up to a square mile. The differences in catch rates with repeated visits are spectacular; usually half or less on day two and half again, or mostly none at all, on day three, even though the fish that had been caught on day one were a very small fraction of what was visible there and all fish that had been caught had been released. It is more than possible that the releasing of fish that had been caught contributed to why other fish were less willing on day two or three. Did their colleagues smell their stress after they were released? Black-tip reef sharks at Cocos Island can certainly smell released bonefish for some time after they are caught and released. These small sharks hunt in packs and will track down a released bonefish even minutes after it has been released 100 yards or more from their station at the time.
It is reasonable to assume jewfish learn that if the Kingscliff rocks are deep there will be food about, particularly if there is a good stiff southerly blowing and the sea is up. Of course, conditions will also be better for jewfish to ambush prey in the daytime under such conditions. If the sea is too calm, they have to wait for the cover of darkness.
But there must be real-time triggers as well as accumulated knowledge. I am very confident smell, or a similar sense that detects presence, is the primary active influence. I have no doubt jewfish can smell or sense the schools of hard-gut and flat-tail mullet and whiting and that the activation of these senses is the driving daytime attractant. Luderick add an extra dimension to the night-time appeal of the area. This belief is supported by many observations of stomach contents, including those described in chapter 14.
I accumulated additional compelling evidence of how long the smell of mullet would remain by observation on beaches after commercial fishermen had made a successful haul. Hours later I could still smell it, sometimes even from some considerable distance down wind. I could only imagine how compelling the smell must have been in the water for a jewfish seeking a favourite source of food! How long will the smell persist?
The north Kingscliff beach, from the creek to the Bowling Club, was the most popular hauling ground in the area for commercial fishermen. This was where I put my hypothesis to the test. If a haul of mullet was made on this beach, I would note the exact location of where the bag came ashore and then fish there, or as near as practical down-current, for jewfish that night using a good slab of fresh mullet. I was amazed at the difference the effects of the haul made. I very rarely missed catching at least one jewie after dark on the days in question. The enhancement was increased further if the haul was taken on the run-out tide and I was able to fish that spot after dark on the first rise afterwards.
My further investigations confirmed what I expected; it did not have to be mullet that were hauled. I could smell hauls of mullet much more strongly than garfish or pilchards but I cannot speak for jewfish. In any case, all worked. I had a suspicion that hauls of garfish were not as effective as those of mullet or pilchards. Perhaps it was because the hauls were usually smaller! But I always believed that garfish were not high on the jewfish menu anyway. I suspected froggies were particularly good (‘froggies’ are anchovies, given the nickname because of their huge, hinged mouth).
Having said that, there are at least two serious biases in my experimental design. First, I think fresh froggies are the quintessential dead bait for jewfish and if I knew a haul had been made I would go to great lengths to get some of it. Shortly thereafter I would turn up somewhere to fish for jewies with half a bucket of very fresh froggies. I don’t think many jewies can refuse a good bundle of froggies, even if they are crammed through the eye onto a 9/0 hook! If I had very fresh froggies, the temptation to fish in my favourite jewfish spot often distracted me from going back to where the froggies had been caught.
The second major flaw in my experiment was that my sample size was extremely small; I can only remember once that I managed to fish for jewies in the exact location that a haul of froggies had been made; it worked. I would be prepared to bet large sums of money it would work again, or at least it would have in the days when there were more jewfish on the beaches.
I also remember very well an evening when I was fishing the beach right in front of the Bowling Club, in 1959, I think. I was very new to beach fishing and I was hoping to catch a tailor with a very dead ‘poddy mullet’ (small sand mullet, on this occasion) for bait. Late that afternoon commercial fishermen had made a haul of small slimy mackerel in that exact location. They thought they had surrounded a school of blue pilchards, which had value as bait even then. They were unimpressed to discover that in their net they had a ton or two of small slimies, which were of absolutely no value in the Tweed Shire. So, after dragging them up the beach and checking there was nothing of value included, they released the lot. Not surprisingly, a fair number of them were seriously injured. (Incidentally, this was the only time I ever saw or heard of a school of slimy mackerel being caught on a beach around Kingscliff. Odd individuals were common in hauls of blue pilchards.) The smell of the haul and the presence of many impaired fish had their impact on the jewfish of the area.
Just after dark in the same location the small swells were lapping around my feet as I fantasised about catching that tailor. The still of the evening was destroyed by an incredible ‘chop’ about two rod lengths in front of me. I literally shook. I had never experienced a particularly aggressive big jewfish feeding before, and it frightened me. There were two more chops in the half hour before I scurried off to tell Dad what I had witnessed. I only wish this had happened ten years later. I never witnessed anything like it on an ocean beach again, but I did hear jewfish chopping in the lower reaches of rivers in the dark of the night.
The second and most essential ingredient of the mixture that was necessary for good daytime jewfish fishing was the presence of dense foam that provides the necessary cover for ambush predators. This was a function of the wind and sea conditions. The pure white, fine but dense and creamy foam that forms above clear blue water is far superior to the brownish coarse froth that arises from dirty water. The foam cover must be absolute if the water is relatively shallow. Where I fished off The South End the water was normally not much more than 6 feet deep; often less at low tide.
While having a great deal more rock exposed unquestionably provided more habitat for baitfish and large fish alike and improved the fishing, it was not essential for good jewfish fishing in daylight hours. Having at least 5 or 6 feet of water around the last 50 yards of the rocks, was. As was having good foamy cover in the main fishing areas, The South End and The Alley.
To have dense, creamy foam that provides continuous cover there must be a sizeable sea running. Big waves are essential; minimum groundswell is highly desirable. When the swell increases, the surge can become excessive very quickly. Jewfish were not worried about the sand being stirred up in big seas, but such conditions were hard to fish. If it was just calm enough to fish, jewies would be able to be there. If conditions were right in summer months, they almost always were. If the physical criteria were met and the mullet were running, they were always there, up to at least 1970. My visits to the rocks were intermittent from 1971 onwards, but I do remember a feeling of huge disappointment, and almost disbelief, in 1988 standing on The South End of the rocks and watching schools of hard-gut mullet glide through beautiful foamy water completely undisturbed. Yes, the rocks were not as deep in 1988 as they had been in the great years, but they were deep enough for at least some jewies to be there. In the same conditions in the 1960s they definitely would have been.
For ideal conditions for jewfish a southerly or south-easter at some time is essential, particularly off The South End. It is usually required for at least a day or two before and through all the time of fishing. If there is no wind, or even a faint easterly, conditions can remain good, particularly if it is raining, or at least overcast, but half an hour after the first whiff of breeze from the north, it is all over. A northerly component to the wind alters the wave pattern virtually immediately. The foam loses its consistency first and then its intensity, all in a matter of about twenty minutes. A single instant of loss of foam cover to the extent that you could glimpse the bottom even once was enough to make jewfish depart from relatively shallow water. I was repeatedly reminded of how absolute and quick the response was on The South End. They will return after sunset, but not before.
Up to the age of seventeen I seldom fished the rocks much past nightfall. So my success in catching big jewies up to that age was extremely closely tied to good foamy water, and hence wind direction. My passion for jewfish fishing was such that I regarded winds from the north in the jewfish season as little short of catastrophes. They became known as ‘dirty, stinkin’ northerlies’, an expression my family still uses to this day, with considerable mirth at my expense. But I am not alone in not being impressed by strong summer northerlies on the north coast of NSW.
Northerly winds did not have the same decisive influence at night, particularly on dark nights when there was bait about. I caught a lot of jewfish on such nights, both off the rocks and the beach. But one night I particularly remember, not because I caught three good fish but because the northerly was exceptionally strong. I almost did not even leave home, but the alternative was watching television and there was no good sport on at night-time in the good old days. The reality was that the wind was so strong that the current on The South End actually flowed rather strongly to the south. In all the years I fished the Kingscliff rocks this was the only time I ever saw this phenomenon.
Under the prevailing conditions I was not optimistic about the chances of success, but in such a strong northerly there was nowhere else to fish. I was pleasantly surprised to get a very early bite, and subsequently three more. My initial surprise turned to delight when all three fish I hooked, rather than charging straight around Snapper Rock, ran with the current, straight down the beach to the south. They ran away from the rocks, an action that was tantamount to suicide. I landed all of them without the slightest difficulty. It was totally different fishing to my usual experience of fishing at this spot in a southerly. The rewards were high—100 per cent of the fish hooked—but the intensity, uncertainty and excitement were greatly diminished. The night was memorable because of the uniqueness of the conditions, not the catch of three 30-pound jewfish. The night was also memorable because it was the first time I tried my experimental jewfish-transport system.
Carrying a large weight of fish plus my rod(s) and gear from the rocks back home was always an issue. For the first few months of my successful jewfish fishing, as soon as I caught a sizeable fish I would head off home. If this was early in the day, I would often return a couple of hours later. But as I became a little more mercenary in my approach I knew I had to try harder to transport more than one. The solution turned out to be about 20 yards of rope. When I had caught three jewfish, I would carry all three to the edge of the water. I would put the biggest one aside. I would then tie one of the others through the mouth and gills on one end of the rope, take two or three turns of the rope around my waist and tie the other jewie to the other end. With the creel strap over my left shoulder I would hoist the biggest jewie onto my right shoulder, holding it in place by the throat. Then I would pick up my rod(s), drag the two fish on the rope behind me into the edge of the water and head off for home, walking the whole way in shallow water. The weight of the fish trailing in the water was minimal. If there was considerable difference in the size of the two fish on the rope, I sometimes had to adjust the length of each leader. The only problem was how to cross the creek at more than half tide. Some interesting swims were had. After dark on a run-in tide I was always worried about sharks, particularly when towing two or three decent-sized jewfish. But for all of my apprehension I never saw a sizeable shark in Cudgen Creek.
That single experience of three jewfish that ran south in the strong northerly completely changed my understanding of why the jewfish I hooked on The South End so predictably charged out to the east and then north around Snapper Rock into Snapper Hole. I had always assumed that it was a standard panic response to seek the cover of deeper water and rocks; after all, when you hooked big jewies in The Alley they charged out the back and around the rocks. The current on The South End when conditions were best for jewies, particularly in the daytime—good southerly wind and moderate to rough sea—would always be strong to the east close to the rocks, and then once past Snapper Rock the prevailing current to the north would take over. But on the one occasion that the current was flowing the other way, all three jewfish ran with the current and away from both deep water and the cover of rocks. The sample size was frighteningly small for a scientific analysis, but the observation was of 100 per cent of the sample. And the three responses were identical and diametrically opposed to the hundreds of my samples at other times.
I have subsequently confirmed in other locations where there was strong current that jewies tend to run with it, at least when first hooked, even if this takes them away from rocks. On the beach, the initial burst is commonly straight out to sea, even if this means crossing relatively shallow sand spits, but the tendency after this initial run is invariably with the current.
I have outlined the importance of numerous bait-fish species to the presence of jewfish off The South End. But what of the relative contribution of each of these species to the attractiveness of the area to jewfish? The answer is not straightforward. Even on days when jewfish were obviously chasing big schools of hard-gut mullet, examination of the stomach contents of the many I caught and gutted revealed they were not having a great deal of success. What food was in their stomachs was almost exclusively whiting and luderick, and they frequently had reasonable numbers of both species, particularly whiting. It was not uncommon to catch a sizeable jewfish that had half a dozen whiting and one or two luderick in its stomach. The level of decomposition confirmed that they had been eaten the night before, or earlier. The presence of a mullet in the stomachs was limited to those with hook marks through their backs; these mullet had been taken as bait or were discarded baits that had been incapacitated.
I was not the only one who observed this surprising lack of undamaged mullet in jewfish stomachs. My colleagues and I frequently discussed the incredibly low frequency of fresh, unmarked mullet in jewfish. I cannot remember ever finding a single one! After the first year or so of my jewfish fishing experiences, I certainly looked. But I stress that I did not gut all the jewfish I caught. The fishmongers I sold my fish to preferred them whole.1
It is possible that the lack of mullet in the stomach was because an individual jewfish would not bite for some considerable time after catching a mullet (my sample was obviously based entirely on those that did bite), but the regular presence in jewfish stomachs of mullet with hook marks in their back reasonably accounts for the impact of satiation, short-term or otherwise. It also accounts for regurgitation being responsible for the lack of undamaged mullet in their stomachs. If they would bite after eating a damaged mullet, why would they not bite after eating a healthy one of the same size? They obviously could eat more than one fish, as the presence of multiple whiting, luderick and hook-marked mullet in their stomachs confirmed. So they clearly had good appetites. And they did not automatically throw up the food they had eaten earlier simply because they were later hooked in the mouth. One morning I caught five jewies off The South End and the last one had four previously hooked baits in its gut. The scientist in me forces me to admit that that day I was using live dart (swallowtail as we called them then) and not mullet. But again, there were no dart without hook marks in any of the stomachs even though I had caught my bait off The South End. My assertion, that most of the effort jewfish put into chasing mullet in the daytime was in vain, remains effectively unchallenged, by my data at least.
But perhaps jewfish were only chasing mullet in the daytime for fun anyway! Was it possible they never expected to catch a healthy, unimpaired mullet at such times? Perhaps they fed at night and played the sport of mullet-chasing in the daytime? Why not? They had to fill in the times between real feeding sessions somehow! Why not go with your mates and have fun terrifying a few mullet? If you actually caught a sick one, that was a bonus!
A possible counter to the argument that they were only chasing mullet for fun is the considerable effort they made to chase mullet in the shallow foamy water close to the rocks. Jewfish are ambush predators with wonderful acceleration but very little stamina, as we shall see in chapter 11. This was the location where their physical attributes gave them the best chance of catching mullet. If they just wanted the sport, why did they not chase mullet in areas away from the foam when prey was obviously more visible? The mullet had to swim through sections of clear, deep water to carry on with their migration. The obvious possible reason was that in clear water they could not get close enough to the mullet before they themselves were seen. Or perhaps the mullet could see them coming far enough away to simply outswim them in open water. Either way, the ambush factor that is their primary strength as a predator is negated in clear water in daylight. This is not what they are designed to be good at. But if they did not expect to catch mullet even in foamy water this may have been of little consequence! They could catch them at night, including by creeping up on them in the clear and calm waters of rivers under the cover of darkness, as they are commonly heard to do.
Why not chase mullet just for fun? Tailor often chased and killed mullet purely for the sport. On numerous occasions I observed tailor chasing mullet, catching them, biting them in half and swimming away leaving both pieces, apparently going on to chase another mullet. I well remember one occasion when three or four large, almost 4-pound tailor chased a rather big hard-gut mullet into very shallow water on the beach just north of the rocks. One of them caught it, bit it in half and left both pieces for me to pick up for bait. Just as I leant down to pick up the tail, one of the tailor had second thoughts; it charged past my leg and took the piece of mullet no more than 6 inches from my fingers. My first thought was that I should count them! Tailor frequently bite bream in two and leave the bigger piece.
Jewfish certainly gave me the impression that they would eat mullet in the daytime if they could catch them; the fact that they ate a live bait of the same species and size at the same time as the mullet were being chased confirms they would eat one if they caught it. They appeared to be trying extremely hard to catch mullet. On numerous occasions I witnessed them become stranded on the rocks when the mullet they were chasing scurried up the rock just ahead of their pursuit. But they were not injured and swam away on the next wave! I have to conclude that even though they are extremely well-equipped ambush predators, that is not enough to make them particularly successful during the day. I suspect they only caught a very occasional mullet. The evidence that I was able to accumulate strongly suggested that most, but perhaps not all, of their success came at night.
As described elsewhere in this book, the number of jewfish I lost fishing The South End was a feature of my experiences, particularly in the early days of my apprenticeship. There are two distinguishing characteristics of The South End that play an enormous part in the large number of times I was ‘out-gunned’ there. Other fishermen had a similar problem. I believe the difficulty of fishing for and landing jewfish there was a primary reason the spot was not heavily fished. On the other hand, I now realise that this difficulty and the challenge it represented were, to me at least, fundamental to the attraction of the area as a fishing spot, but I would not have accepted this then. I got truly upset with every fish I lost. It was personal failure; I obviously was not up to the task. I simply had to do better: a common incentive for sportsmen and women!
What were the reasons for the high loss rate? The first is the very short distance a hooked fish must run before a jagged rock shelf provides great assistance with its escape. What disadvantages the angler further in this particular spot is the direction of the current that is usually strong when conditions are good for fishing in the daytime. This supports the flight of the hooked fish towards the edges of the prominent rock and the deeper water beyond. The likely instinctive pursuit of deeper water encourages the fish to take a sharp turn, left and down, immediately on reaching that rock. This turn invariably drags the line across a stretch of jagged rock.
It is important to acknowledge that the rock ledge that is responsible for the cut-offs that are so common in this location does not represent the same threat under all conditions. There were times, but not many, when a hooked fish would make it around the corner and you would not feel the line rubbing against a rock. At other times you would feel a rock only for the line to come free. Under both of these circumstances you could then continue to fight the fish in the relatively safe water of Snapper Hole. The degree to which a cut-off could be anticipated varied with the depth of the water around the rocks and the strength of the current. I suspected there were also some other variables that I never ascertained.
Over the years, I landed quite a few big jewies that made it from The South End into Snapper Hole. My first 40-pounder did. I also remember Cec Higgins and his son Graham landing five fish over 25 pounds from five hook-ups one afternoon on 18-pound lines. All five made it around the corner to Snapper Hole with the line staying intact. But of those that got around the corner on me I lost more than I landed, particularly in the early years of my adventures. Once I went to 50-pound line there were two major changes: a lot fewer managed to get around the corner and the heavier line could stand a lot more abrasion. I could often simply pull them back, particularly if they came to the surface. On 50-pound line and soft plastics I do not remember losing a single fish to the rocks. If the hook stayed in, which it did most of the time with the early American 3-ounce heads and 8/0 hooks, I landed them. But I did not start using soft plastics until 1973, by which time my best years of catching large numbers of jewfish were behind me.
Getting around the corner was clearly a key factor in the fish’s chances of escaping. There were two prominent influences on the jewfish’s chances of covering the distance to relative safety after being hooked that were somewhat independent on the size of the line, the power of the current and the strength and skill of the angler. The first and most obvious was the position in relation to the proximity to the rocks that the bite actually occurred; the second was the type of bite and how the angler responded.
The whole area of the ‘bite zone’ when fishing off The South End varies only little with the depth of water and hence the tide; it is in total not much more than 30 yards along the rocks and usually extends out no more than about 30 yards. On extreme high tides when conditions were especially favourable, jewfish could be caught in the daytime off the beach, about 50 yards away. Under such circumstances the problem of the proximity to Snapper Rock is effectively negated by even moderately heavy line. But when you are fishing off the rocks, the greater the distance the fish must run before making it around the corner, the greater your chances of stopping it before it does so. This is just one of the reasons why an angler’s chances of landing big jewies, not just hooking them, in this location is impacted by the presence of other anglers.
Experience convinced the few who fished here regularly that, assuming all baits were of equal quality—which live mullet from the same source tended to be—the bait closest to the danger of Snapper Rock was usually the first taken. This is no surprise as this is the obvious direction from which jewfish enter this fishing zone. As the chances of stopping the fish before it made it back around the corner are directly related to the distance it had to travel, and of course the other factors mentioned above, such as the skill and strength of the angler and the strength of the line, there is great advantage to any individual angler in being the only person fishing. If you have the place to yourself, you can anchor your bait at the furthest point from the cover of Snapper Rock that is still within the ‘bite zone’. This is the point closest to the beach that is deep enough and has complete and constant foam cover. Those familiar with the spot will be aware of the junction in the submerged rocks that provides these conditions only a few yards out from the two spots on the rock platform that are most favourable to fish off.
Of course, the collective chances of multiple anglers actually landing a fish would increase if they all agreed to cast out only the minimum distance, but only the best of friends adhered to such a commitment. The temptation to be the one that got the bite commonly tested compliance with social harmony. Even if you were on your own and had not had a bite for an hour or so the temptation to cast a little further into slightly deeper water could become irresistible. Harry Stone and I fished the rocks in tandem at night for several years. Harry was a great guy to fish with and by agreement we both cast minimum distance. We also tended to try to cover a variety of areas, for example one of us on The South End and the other in either The Alley or Snapper Hole. We had many data points and our evidence compelled us to accept that The South End was where the jewies would be if the water was even half as deep as we would like it to be. It was on average a much better spot for jewfish than either The Alley or Snapper Hole, but on some nights the jewfish fishing in The Alley could be spectacular. On several occasions, relatively early in my jewfish fishing, I had caught my three out of The Alley and headed off home before it was even totally dark.
How one responded to the bite was also of considerable importance to the chance of landing the fish. I had always been told by the local wise men that when a jewfish took a live bait it was imperative to let it have the bait for quite a while to make sure it swallowed it. My experiences suggested that the theory of allowing at least some time increased the chance of hooking the fish was correct, but not because it significantly increased the chance the fish would swallow the bait.
In my experimentation to try to improve success with both hooking and landing jewfish at The South End and other places, I reached several conclusions. First, the percentage of fish I hooked that had swallowed the live bait depended much more on the sea conditions and the type and condition of my bait than the length of time I waited before striking. In fact, I would go so far to suggest that the percentage of fish hooked that had swallowed the bait was largely independent of the time taken before striking. But the time taken before striking was definitely related to the percentage of hook-ups. It was important to allow sufficient time after the tick of the bait being sucked in for the fish to turn and head away from you. If the fish had not already swallowed the bait, then allowing the fish to turn would greatly decrease the chance of pulling the bait straight out of its mouth. When it faced away, the line would most likely pull through one or other corner of the mouth, thus increasing the chance that the point of the hook would make contact with the inside of the lips or jaws. The same principle is quoted by many fly-fishers who allow a little time before striking a trout that has taken a dry fly while facing towards them. This is particularly the case when the water is still, as it usually is in a lake.
The three key determinants of whether or not a jewfish would quickly swallow a live bait I assessed to be the roughness of the sea, the species of the bait and its liveliness. I had no doubt the rougher the weather you could get your bait in front of a jewie, the greater the chance it would swallow it. This was undoubtedly true with cut bait. I also had little doubt that other things being equal, particularly the weather, jewfish took live whiting far more aggressively than they did live mullet. With whiting the tick was often sharper and the percentage of swallowed baits was higher. I assumed the sharper tick was because they liked the sight, taste or smell of whiting more and therefore sucked them in more aggressively, possibly from further away. Perhaps jewfish were more accustomed to catching whiting than mullet. Whether the torpedo-like shape of whiting, in particular their relatively pointy head, made them easier to swallow is a matter of conjecture.
To my surprise the evidence I gathered suggested that the size of the live bait was, within reason, not a major factor in whether or not it was swallowed. The rate of hook-up was likely to be higher with smaller baits, but even though the evidence was equivocal I felt that bigger, live-lier baits were more likely to be swallowed. I was, however, able to gather sufficient evidence to convince me absolutely that the liveliness of the bait, independent of the species and size, had an extremely significant impact on whether or not the bait was swallowed. Such a definitive statement requires disclosure of the evidence.
On many of the occasions that the bait on my line was tired and moving only sluggishly I had jewfish suck it in and then spit it out. The tick would commonly be less emphatic with exhausted baits and the determined heavy pull as a jewfish moved away with the bait would far too frequently not eventuate. You would feel the tick, get all excited, set your feet for the strike and the battle that was to follow, only for nothing more to happen. The retrieved bait would have hardly a scale left. It had obviously been sucked in across the rasping gill-rakers and then spat out the same way. If I threw that bait back out nothing would happen. I learnt that if a new, more lively bait could be quickly cast to the same spot a second tick would often follow in a very short time, only this time the bite would be complete, and in many cases, the bait swallowed. I had refusals of live baits dozens of times and this repeat bite experience many times, particularly in calmer water at night. Jewfish are definitely fussier feeders in calm water. They hardly ever bite in calm, relatively shallow water in the daytime.
The difference in the success rate with live bait and cut bait on calm nights was marked. Many calm nights you were simply not in the contest if you did not have live bait. In really rough weather, high-quality cut bait was often better than live bait. The bite rate was about the same and the hook-up rate was higher.
It became obvious to me that jewfish sucked in extremely lively baits more vigorously than they did an exhausted, slow-moving one. But did they suck it in so viciously that it went straight down into their stomachs? I contend that if they really liked a bait, they did indeed frequently swallow it almost instantly. Watching a ravenous dog deal with a one-inch cube of fillet steak convinced me of the speed with which highly desirable food can be ingested by a hungry animal. But I was never completely happy with any of the explanations I came up with about why a fish would go to the trouble to taste an extremely fresh, actually still alive but not particularly active prey item and then discard it, only to take another one exactly the same except that it was more lively. Why would they suck a live bait in and then spit it out? I could understand why they would leave it alone altogether or why a more active bait would attract more attention and thus get bitten more quickly, but if the jewfish tasted the sluggish bait and did not eat it, why did a livelier bait of the same species and size provoke ingestion? The feel of the line did not seem to be a factor as they would take the livelier bait on the same line. Surely it could not taste better? Or could it? Or was a more lively bait swallowed quickly to counter the chance of it escaping? Or was it simply the heightened response to the extra effort or adrenaline rush of having to catch a particularly lively bait? I doubted, without compelling evidence, these last two. I concluded that jewfish had to have an extra sense of taste, smell, feel, or even liveliness, of which I had no understanding.
Regardless of the reason for the refusal to swallow a tired bait, the repeated occurrence completely destroyed my faith in using a whole, dead bait, particularly a mullet, no matter how fresh. The real exceptions for dead bait were very fresh local blue pilchards (but not frozen Western Australian or South Australian ones), anchovies or calamari, which jewfish often swallowed most readily. I discuss the relative attributes of fresh, but not live, baits in chapter 14.
I had considerable difficulty assessing the impact of the size of the live bait. I had numerous preferences but very little quality evidence to support my theory. One extreme data point was provided by the biggest mullet I ever used for live bait. I was on The South End with Cec Higgins one day when the sea was rougher than ideal. The tide was dropping fast and we had great difficulty getting live mullet; very few were moving and what were there were relatively big. I had only two mullet and both were over 2 pounds, perhaps even 2 and a half pounds. Cec also had two, about the same size. The water off The South End was shallow and badly stirred up by the big sea, but Snapper Hole was deep and foamy. Our problem was that we could not throw a 2-pound mullet far enough, particularly as we would need a big sinker to stop our bait from simply swimming straight back inshore. After procrastinating for some time, during which the tide dropped to almost dead low, I decided I would put the sinker down on my hook to make the casting a little simpler and wait for a lull in the swell and run out on to Snapper Rock, quickly do my best to cast, and then run back.
When I got out to Snapper Rock the best I could do in the way of a cast was to swing this huge bait round-arm. It carried only about 15 yards before landing with a mighty splash. My mullet immediately charged to the surface and took off straight back towards me. The big sinker and the trailing line appeared to have only minor impact on its speed. Cec and I were both staring at this mullet; I was already getting ready to repeat my casting performance and thinking about how I might be able to improve the outcome. As the mullet got to within about a yard of the lip of The Hole there was a massive ‘chop’ and it disappeared. Cec looked at me and I at him while I wound in the slack in my line the fast-swimming mullet had created. We both knew what to expect. Sure enough, when the line tightened there was a big fish on the end that was slowly swimming away from me. I struck, and connected.
The outcome was a lovely jewie of, from memory, 48 pounds. The most interesting feature was that it had swallowed the enormous bait right down; the hook was well into the top of its stomach, even though I had hooked the bait much closer to the tail than usual in my attempt to maximise the distance I could cast. I wore the second mullet out with repeated casts but I had had my excitement for the day.
Most jewfish bites are nowhere near as spectacular, but assuming hook-up occurs, there is then an intense and powerful surge from a standing start, at least the equal of most the world of fishing has to offer. Jewfish are the ultimate ambush predators and as such have acceleration and power from a standing start that is seldom equalled (chapter 11). The significance of this capability is projected to a new dimension on The South End. In most locations, yes, the first run of a big jewie is extremely exhilarating, but even anglers with moderate experience can let the fish run with some tension on the line. In not much more than ten or fifteen seconds they can begin to establish some authority. In a minute or so they can usually have the fight under control. On The South End these options are not even in the equation. You have to stop the fish in less than about 20 yards or the show is over. The first second or two of the fight borders on the unbelievable; the rate of acceleration, accompanied by the power, is extraordinary. Catching a big jewfish off the beach is exhilarating. But it is commonly a measured and controlled activity. The contest on The South End is the equivalent of a world championship heavyweight fight that is restricted from fifteen three-minute rounds to one round of half a minute.
As I mentioned earlier, most of the intensity of fighting big jewfish depends on hook-up actually occurring. The high percentage of bites that I missed when using live baits remained a major annoyance for me for the whole of the time I fished for jewfish before the mid-1980s.
Live bait was almost an essential requirement for good jewfish fishing in the daytime. The baits I used were mostly reasonably large mullet, commonly more than half a pound in weight but often over a pound and occasionally even more. The hooks I used were the biggest I could buy at the time, 9/0. Occasionally I was able to get 10/0s. I missed far too many bites for my liking, more than twice as many as I would miss on cut bait with the same hooks. I tried a lot of different configurations of hook and hooks and lots of different placements of the hook in the bait. In desperation I even tried triple 5/0 hooks with one inserted right down towards the tail. Not much difference in total hook-ups but I did, one night, hook two jewfish up the anus using this rig. I assume they were facing away from me as I struck the bite and the line was guided by their anal fins as I pulled the hook back towards me! The anus was the only place devoid of the protection of the jewfish’s heavy scales.
I tried several brands of hook but tended to come back to Sealey, because they looked and felt sharper. I tried to always use new, shiny hooks, but to tell a story against myself, I made only a few half-hearted efforts to sharpen my hooks. I never made a truly serious attempt to understand what was necessary and to implement the correct procedure. This was a serious oversight, and I acknowledge it as one of the biggest weaknesses in my fishing adventures. It cost me many, many jewfish.
I was aware that sharper hooks were better, but I did not credit the difference between commercially sharp and properly sharpened hooks. I mostly accepted what I had been told, that new hooks were good enough. I should have known better! In the honours year of my physiology degree at the University of New England I had the good fortune to do a reasonable amount of surgery on sheep. I was astounded by how easy it was to stitch-up thick, tough sheep skin with a triangular-pointed needle with sharp edges. The same task was almost impossible using a normal round needle, no matter how sharp the point. But for reasons I still do not understand it did not occur to me to transfer this knowledge to my use of fish hooks. It was almost ten years later when fishing for Spanish mackerel off the rocks in New Caledonia that I finally saw the light.
I was getting three to five mackerel bites a morning using whole garfish and three-ganged 5/0 Mustard 4200 hooks, and missing at least two of them. This annoyed and surprised me; when I pulled my rig back in, only the head of the garfish remained and all three hooks were totally exposed, being free of bait. How could the fish not have got hooked? Why I actually decided to apply a solution I had ignored for years with jewfish I am not sure. Was it a combination of frustration and desperation? Perhaps I had had more time to think about the problem. Or was it a dash of reluctant attention to the bleeding obvious? I had had the necessary experience with my surgical training, so why had I ignored it?
Using a very fine file I honed triangular cutting edges on six hooks and ganged two lots of three. I have always been a counter of pieces of evidence, so I tested my hypothesis. I landed the next twenty-two Spanish mackerel that bit before I missed one. I belatedly realised I had solved one of my long-standing jewfish fishing dilemmas. If only I had woken up fifteen years earlier. The solution to a big problem was so simple. And in hindsight, so obvious for somebody who had experience with something as tough as sheep skin.
I mentioned above the influence of the strength of the line and the skill of the angler as determinants of success when fishing The South End. I started using 15-pound line in the 1958/59 season, but after my first abject failure quickly changed to 23 pounds. Then to 33 pounds a year or two later. Finally graduating to 50 pounds by 1967. Until I went through the progression from 33 to 50 pounds, I had estimated that when using live bait off The South End I would land most of the jewfish I hooked that were up to 30 pounds, about 60–70 per cent of those between 30 and 40 pounds and less than half of those over 45 pounds. With 50-pound line I reckoned on catching virtually all of those under 40 pounds and the great majority of those up to 55 pounds. I never landed one over 55 pounds there, but I am not convinced I hooked that many, except for those described in chapter 10, and they were not hooked on 50-pound line. But then again, I am not certain 50-pound line would have solved all my problems on that particular day.
For all of the increased success in landing bigger fish I experienced with the transition to 50-pound line and stronger, shorter rods, I was never enamoured with using heavier gear. I am inherently a light-gear fisherman. Yes, if I wanted to land most of the bigger jewfish I hooked on The South End, heavier lines were obviously necessary. But knowing the odds were firmly in my favour for the great majority of the jewfish I hooked definitely detracted from the total experience. The jewfish I caught there averaged a little over 30 pounds. On 50-pound line catching fish under 30 pounds was a bit too much like rather brutally shelling peas. This was fine if my primary motivation was catching as much weight of fish using any legal gear, as I was licensed to do, but it was not quite in the spirit of the challenge that I was addicted to. I still continued to use 15- or 18-pound line for jewfish off the beach.
Comparison of my success rate with fish I hooked on live bait and on lures was informative. I used red feathers successfully as far back as about 1961. Noel Wylie told me of the success fishermen on the Clarence were having with them. The feathers had to be red. He did not sell them. I could not buy red feathers in Tweed Heads at the time and Noel was unable to get them for me from his suppliers in Brisbane. I had to settle for buying 3-ounce white feathers from Brisbane and dyeing them fire-engine red. This I did with Gillseal dye in hot, heavily salted water. The dyeing process was an experience in itself. I could not get the pure white feathers to take up the red dye, even though the dye solution was so strong I could not see under the surface in Mum’s saucepan. So under Mum’s advice and supervision I put the saucepan on a hot plate at moderate heat. I kept stirring for several minutes but absolutely nothing happened; my feathers were as white as they had ever been. Then in an instant the magical temperature was reached, and the feathers sucked the dye from the water. They became a brilliant red and the water almost colourless. The colour was to remain fast. I still have one of those feather lures as proof; it had spent a lot of time in the water over the first ten of the intervening fifty years.
I had almost instant success with these red feathers pulled steadily at the minimum speed that would keep them just off the bottom. Occasionally they would bump along the sand, but this did not seem to discourage the jewfish. I caught a 30-pounder the very first time I used one. My years of spinning down The Alley with chrome or painted lead spinners without catching a single jewfish had me believing they would not take a lure. I quickly scotched that theory. They would not take a fast-moving piece of chrome off the surface but a slow-moving red feather just above the bottom was another matter.
I converted from red feathers to soft plastics for jewfish in 1973, having brought back 3-ounce heads and pink double-tail ‘Scampi’ from my first trip to the USA for the Lake Arrowhead Tuna Conference. I could not find red scampi tails anywhere in San Diego at that time, even though the tackle shops there were like the biggest and best candy store any Australian kid had ever seen. I was able to get red ones and black ones a couple of years later, at about the same time as big rubbery swimming tails became available.
I much preferred the fishing experience of catching jewfish on live bait, but lures were much easier. They were always an option when live bait was hard to get. This was particularly the situation I faced in the many short visits I had to Kingscliff from 1971 to 1998. For much of this period I was living overseas and visits home were to see my parents. Of course, fishing, particularly for jewfish, was on the agenda whenever possible, but I never had as much time as I had had in the good old days. I also now had a wife and two kids competing for my attention. Extremely considerate of my passion for fishing though they were, taking the time to get live bait was seldom an appropriate option.
My hook-up rate on the big minnow lures that I had also brought back from the USA was good, but an extremely high percentage of fish, big ones in particular, got off. A lot do get off with minnow lures and treble hooks, but I found it worse under the extreme pressure of being pulled up short, as happened on The South End and The Alley. The excess pressure of having to stop the run ASAP had an effect in its own right on pulling the hooks out, but so did the excessive head shaking that resulted from being hooked in the edge of the mouth and treated so brutally. My good friend Wayne Piper overcame this problem to a great degree by making his own wobblers with detachable hooks that sprung free from the body of the lure, which was shaken up the line, when a fish was hooked. I remember Wayne landing fifteen sizeable jewies one night off the Causeway at Fingal when they had a school of white pillies baled up against the rocks.
Big wobblers had the added disadvantage for me of being extremely difficult to cast directly into a stiff southerly, which was always necessary if conditions were good on The South End. So I largely abandoned them, except occasionally at night in The Alley and off the south wall at the mouth of the creek.
It was about this time that ‘Nils Master’ wobblers began to be used for jewfish in many places in NSW. They were a bigger hit off Fingal and Hastings Point than they were at Kingscliff, except off the walls at the mouth of the creek, and occasionally The Alley. A lot of fishermen who had never caught a jewfish in their lives suddenly experienced the thrill. Quite a few went on to became expert with this technique.
It was almost impossible to use Nils Masters successfully on The South End in the daytime as they were too light to throw into the wind, on a heavy line, as you had to. Numerous times I had fishermen watch in envy as I blasted my 3-ounce jig heads and plastic tails quite reasonable distances into a strong southerly. I certainly had a head start on the competition because, as far as I was aware, I was the only person in Kingscliff who had even seen soft plastics in the early 1970s. There were probably not many others using them for jewfish elsewhere in Australia at that time! It was not possible to buy the lures that are available today. If you are a modern jewfish fisherman, were the 1960s really the good old days?
With the soft plastics and an 8/0 hook I had hugely better statistics of landing fish than I had with minnow lures, or even live bait. I caught many fish, including at least three over the magical 50-pound mark and never lost a single lure in a fish once I went to 50-pound line. In other words, I was able to stop virtually all of them before they got around the corner. I attributed this exceptional rate of success to two key factors: first, on jig heads the fish were hooked facing towards me when I struck the instant I detected the ‘tick’. I also had more success ‘pulling through the strike’. This involves starting with your rod low, striking virtually as hard as you can and continuing to pull rather than pausing to get ready for the fish to take off. It is extremely hard to do with live bait. I never mastered it. But with the way I fished soft plastics for jewfish, my rod was close to horizontal when the tick occurred. The strike would bring it up only a few degrees before contact was established, making it possible to keep pulling strongly without having to wind the reel. The result, if I did it properly, was the fish often remained headed my way for at least a second, or possibly two, or even three. A couple of seconds is an age in this contest at this location.
The other primary advantage with soft plastics was that the fish tended to take the lure close to the rock I was standing on; presumably they tended to follow it for some distance before taking it. Thus, I had them on a very short lead. This had one significant advantage: it made it easier to keep their heads pointed towards me, like a horse being held on a short rein. It also meant that they had a greater distance to run to get to the edge of Snapper Rock where they could cut me off. I firmly believed in the ‘short rein advantage’ (chapter 11). So much so that on The South End I always stood as close as possible to where the bite would occur. This usually meant getting wet and perhaps even taking a chance of getting washed in. But I never did have the latter misfortune. Billy Smith would often comment on how I was the only one he ever saw fishing on the front of the sloping rock that is closest to Snapper Rock at times other than low tide. He called this place Kearney’s Rock (as shown on the front cover).
Very often on lures the fish made it worse for themselves by having a few head shakes while they tried to work out what was going on. The hard pull on a short lead at the start of the fight helped greatly to disorient them. The other obvious advantage of lures was that the fish were almost all hooked in the jaw, usually towards the tip of the snout. As a result, they tended to shake their heads more than if they were gut hooked or even hooked deeper in the throat. Head shaking usually delays the start and can greatly diminish the intensity of that first powerful run. It was often even at the expense of a sustained long run. They might fight for longer if they did not make a long first run, but distance travelled by the fish, and not the time it was on the line, was the primary determining factor in the success equation on The South End.
Even though jewfish as ambush predators are designed for instantaneous reaction and extreme acceleration (discussed in chapter 11), they still have the tendency of many species to be vulnerable to losing the plot a little if they are treated brutally on a short lead. (Videos of competitive bass fishing in the USA show this being taken to the extreme.) I actually feel ashamed to admit that I would take advantage of this. It is also completely out of character with how I like to fish for other species, or even jewfish in other circumstances. I have always preferred to use gear as light as possible to get the job done. My favourite fishing now is for whiting and bream using a 2-weight fly rod fitted with a small side-cast reel and 3-pound line. I have always strongly disliked fishing around coral reefs for bottom fish as you cannot let the fish run and use your angling skills. So why my extreme predisposition towards being brutal with jewfish on The South End in the daytime?
I can only conclude that I never did get over my addiction to catching jewfish that began when I was about five years of age. This was followed by the undisputed knowledge that big jewfish were there; I could see them, or at least I could see the mullet jumping as jewfish chased them. Could any addicted angler resist temptation of this intensity? I just had to develop the ability to catch them. This fuelled the challenges of combining a variety of skills and even strength, and the frequent trialling of the absolute limits of my fishing abilities. These were put to the test by an experience that had only two possible outcomes, which were diametrically opposed: I either did, or did not, catch a jewfish. There were no draws in these contests.
But for all my frustrations with trying to catch every jewfish that bit, why did I remain incurably addicted to fishing for them off The South End with live bait, particularly in the daytime?
There are many reasons why people fish (chapter 4). Prominent in mine for fishing off The South End were:
• having a stiff southerly breeze with the smell of the sea in your face on a warm summer’s day
• being engulfed by the noise, the spray and occasionally the surge
• looking down a magnificent white sandy beach with Bogangar at the other end and Cape Byron in the distance
• being on rocks that are so flat that no matter what the tide you are literally ‘in the action’, frequently up to your knees at least
• having an excellent view from only a few yards away of the intense excitement of hundreds of mullet leaping into the air at great speed with big jewfish in pursuit
• the opportunity to assess the effectiveness of all your planning with tides and conditions and gear, and having made the effort to get the right live bait
• the excitement of the challenge you know you will face if you do get a bite
• the incredible power of a big jewfish transmitted up a relatively short line when you do manage to make contact
• the knowledge that a serious assessment of your fishing skills, and even strength, awaits.
Each of these attributes was enough to keep me addicted. But I could experience many of them in other places. However, the intensity of the excitement, the challenge and the heightened uncertainty of those first four or five seconds after hooking a big fish in this particular location elevated jewfish fishing off The South End of the Kingscliff rocks, as it was in the 1960s, into a class of its own. It was magical. And I mostly had it to myself. For me, jewfish fishing in the daytime was unquestionably better in the good old days.
1 Ted Jenner at Jenner’s Corner was adamant in his preference for whole fish, which he would freeze, glaze with water and keep for considerable time. The seal of the very heavy scales and glazing he found to be much better if it was not broken by the cavity created by gutting the fish.