The principles of fisheries management that are most obviously relevant to this question are discussed in chapter 21. Other chapters in this book provide specific examples from Kingscliff and areas in close proximity that highlight a local perspective that is relevant to much of coastal NSW. In combination, they enable examination of how the personal and social attitudes to fishing, and the management of it throughout NSW, have changed. In so doing they support evaluation of how civil society’s consideration of fishing and ecosystem protection has evolved over sixty years.
There is no doubt recreational fishing around Kingscliff and in most parts of NSW was considerably different in 1960 to what it was in 2020. There is also no doubt there was a great deal less fishing effort in earlier years, and as a result more fish of at least most target species. It is, therefore, hard to refute the argument that for those few fishermen who had the time and the know-how, fishing was better in 1960 than it was for those same fishermen in 2020. Bigger catches by individuals could certainly be made in earlier years. And society accepted, even encouraged and rewarded, particularly large catches. But there are many characteristics of fishing and its outputs, other than individual catches, that affect its evaluation in the eyes of the diverse array of individuals with a direct interest. Then there are the opinions of those who may not have direct involvement but who have the right to be involved in the management of fishing simply because they are part of the tax-paying and voting broader community (chapter 4).
Marine environments that support fish stocks were unquestionably more pristine in the good old days. The Kingscliff rocks and Cudgen Creek provide pertinent examples of how great the change has been across many parts of NSW in the selected sixty years (chapters 7 and 22 respectively). Society’s attitudes to conservation and heritage protection have matured. There is, however, little evidence that the outcomes for aquatic habitats and wetlands around Kingscliff have benefited appreciably from this maturation over the period in question (chapter 22). Planned human impact on the environment, commonly termed ‘development’, has accelerated. We may have slowed deliberate destruction, but we have reversed few of the insidious negative outcomes of human population growth. There is even worrying evidence that we have not learnt sufficiently from past mistakes to prevent us repeating them: the walls at the mouth of the creek continue to be extended, thus increasing sand coverage of the rock platform and the ecosystem it supported; the last remaining vestige of a previously prominent wetland close to the centre of Kingscliff is scheduled in the latest Shire Council development plan to be ‘reclaimed’.
Fisheries management in NSW is unquestionably better now than it was sixty years ago, when there was little of any consequence. But being better than nothing must not be confused with being adequate. Fisheries management has not yet produced an acceptable outcome for stocks of several fish species, most notably jewfish.
In view of the premium status of jewfish as a target for anglers in NSW and the prominence given to it in the broader literature on recreational fishing, such as this book, distillation of the discussion of the change in the status of jewfish stocks and the fisheries that impact them, outlined in earlier chapters, is appropriate.
While the scientific assessments are not precise, the number of jewfish available to be caught around Kingscliff in 2020 was almost certainly less than 20 per cent, and likely less than 10 per cent, of what it was in 1960. The number of anglers deliberately pursuing jewfish in 2020 was considerably more than ten times what it had been in 1960; the population of Kingscliff itself has grown ten-fold since 1960 and tourism has increased greatly. Not only were there a great deal fewer fishermen in the good old days, but the percentage of this much smaller number who had the knowledge and gear to empower them to catch jewfish was a great deal less than it is today. Perhaps even more influential on the amount of targeting of this species is the continuing elevation of the status of the capture of a jewfish in recreational fishing folklore. Snapper has been displaced as the accepted pinnacle of beach and rock fishing achievement that it was afforded in Kingscliff in 1960 (chapter 18). Snapper are no less prized, if encountered, but they now represent a very occasional bonanza for a lucky individual, not the perennial target of the majority of the very best fishermen the region has to offer.
In 1960 very few Kingscliff fishermen targeted jewfish. The average Kingscliff angler did not know how to catch them and did not really try. They were mostly an infrequent, but much lauded, by-catch of tailor fishing. There was much talk about what a wonderful achievement it was to catch one but little informative discussion by those who had actually achieved this feat. Those few who were truly ‘in the know’ did not tell anybody; certainly not tourists. In contrast, the modern angler has access to a huge variety of literature and electronic media on how, when and where to catch most species of fish, but particularly the iconic jewfish. Even the average tackle shop has a kaleidoscope of lures, many of which are stated to be designed specifically for jewfish, or at least claimed to be effective for catching them. Many of them have been proven to work. If the stores in Kingscliff or Tweed Heads are deficient, anglers can always go online and purchase the latest in gear, even from overseas. In 1960 you could not buy a lure in Kingscliff or Tweed Heads on which you could catch a jewfish. I doubt you could buy one in Brisbane that was designed for the purpose. Ordering one, even if possible, was a major undertaking. In Kingscliff you could not even buy bait to fish for jewfish, or any other species for that matter.
Improvements in gear are not restricted to lures. Today there are glass or graphite rods to suit any purpose, and unlike cane rods they are light, and they remain straight no matter how many big fish you catch on them. The best are simply a delight to use; unquestionably better than their 1960 equivalents. Lines are better and more varied, from braid for main-lines to fluorocarbon for leaders and tippets. There is a huge variety of nylon in between. Even for the old-fashioned angler who persists with using bait there are chemically sharpened hooks of a myriad of designs and sizes, and they are readily available. Most styles of reels have evolved considerably and continue to do so. For avid side-cast users, who are still prominent among Kingscliff residents, this is the one piece of equipment where the good old days had the edge. The Alvey red-cedar spool, ball-bearing race, 6-and-a-half-inch reel that was available in the 1960s was one of the most beautiful pieces of fishing equipment ever made. Unfortunately, it went out of production in the 1970s. In response to my pleas for resumed production, Jack Alvey told me that the cost of the ball-races that were manufactured in Germany had become prohibitive. Those of us who had the great pleasure of using one, or more, of these fabulous reels still lament their passing into folklore.
Then there are the electronics, including fish-finders and GPS and the vessel-positioning capability that can come with it. Collectively they lift the fishing power and relative efficiency of the average boat fisherman to a totally new level. This is even more pronounced for jewfish, even in estuaries. Jewfish, because of their disproportionately huge and dense swim bladders, have a heightened target-strength for echo-sounders. This greatly facilitates the detection and targeting of even individual fish.
It can be argued that the best of the fishermen of the 1960s, including some mentioned in this book, such as Len Thompson, Billy Smith and Cec Higgins, had skills that were at least the equal of the best of modern anglers. What cannot be disputed, however, is that modern gear and knowledge made the average angler of 2020 a much more potent unit of fishing power than his/her 1960 counterpart. This difference is particularly pronounced for those fishing from the hugely increased number of boats.
A comparison of the equipment available to the one commercial fisherman in Kingscliff in the 1960s (chapters 3 and 17) with that of the average recreational boat fisherman in 2020 would suggest that the fishing power of each boat in 2020 was many times that of the only one in the area in the 1960s. And there are now hundreds of them. In the early 1990s as Director of Fisheries Research in NSW I interviewed commercial trap fishers as part of our investigation of the impact of the introduction of GPS on the effectiveness of trap-fishing effort. I suggested to them that it may have doubled their efficiency. I was taken aback by their accusation that this estimate just showed how out of touch we scientists were. One in particular, John Garvin (who had been a champion angler around the Yamba and Iluka area in the good old days and whom I regarded as a good friend), was adamant that the advent of GPS increased his trap-fishing power by approximately a factor of ten. His reasons were many, and on analysis they were compelling. They included such primary influences as being able to locate reefs on overcast days and even at night, when landmarks, which had been the only aids to positioning, were not visible. Being able to fish effectively at night, when conditions were often calmer, was a huge advantage. So was being able to position traps precisely on reef slopes, aided not only by precise positioning but also accurate determination of current strength, which GPS facilitated. As was being able to precisely grapple for strings of traps and thus not have to use floats (which anglers would frequently cut off, resulting in the loss of traps and of course, their contents), and on it went. A story in itself!
There can be little doubt that the impact of modern electronics is relatively even greater for some recreational fishers than it is for at least the average commercial fisher in the north coast region. Many of the more committed and affluent recreational fishers have their boats fitted with equipment that is the envy of many commercial fishers. Such is the power of passion supported by surplus disposable income compared to the business axiom of the need to minimise costs in order to make a profit.
When GPS coordinates of an exact location where a particularly good catch has been taken are disseminated by modern communication technology, including social media, localised depletion of stocks can be taken to a totally new level. Precise communication can actually promote the evolution of localised depletion into the more threatening serial depletion. Successful fishers advising their media contacts that the fishing has gone off in one area and then giving the coordinates of the next area can result in the rapid movement of fishing effort, which may be excessive. While many of the very best recreational and commercial fishers are far more circumspect with information about their best spots and recent catches, they are being observed more by others with GPS and storytelling desires.
A series of recent events in Botany Bay is relevant. A colleague of mine, after making a good catch of lovely silver trevally at his favourite spot, came to the aid of an acquaintance at the boat ramp who had not had any luck by telling him exactly where he had caught them. The next day when my friend returned there were already four boats in his spot, the day after eighteen and the day after that thirty-two boats, with on average more than two fishers in each. When my friend enquired of one of the returning fishermen how he had got the information on this spot and the fact that it was fishing well he was advised that all the necessary information was on the web, including the exact GPS coordinates. Not surprisingly, the number of boats declined each day from the high of thirty-two as reports confirmed that the fish had ‘gone off the bite’. The reason for them not biting being of course that that particular aggregation of trevally had ‘gone off ’ down the road in Eskies, in the back of boats, behind four-wheel-drives. Will the impact of this event be even greater if the reason for this aggregation of trevally had been that they were spawning?
Developments in gear and information exchange, when coupled with the increase in the number of fishermen and the discretionary spending capability of many of them, have empowered the collective modern angling community with an aggregate fishing power that is many, many times what it was in 1960. And it is still increasing, considerably faster than human population growth. Even the increase due to COVID-19 is significant. Fishing has been one of the few recreational activities that have been continuously allowed during lockdowns. And while many other things on which you can spend money have been restricted, the purchase of high-quality boats, accessories and fishing gear has ‘gone through the roof ’.
‘Effort creep’, the natural increase in the effectiveness of a given unit of fishing effort over time, is accepted in the principles of fisheries management. It is usually assumed for the individual boat or fisher to be a few per cent a year, unless there is a major change in gear or the regulation of effort. I know that over the ten years, 1961 to 1970 inclusive, that I fished for about the same amount of time each year, I became a much more effective jewfish fisherman. My average annual catch of sizeable jewfish went up from about thirty to about a hundred. A three-fold increase in efficiency over a ten-year period equates to a compound interest rate of approximately 11 per cent per annum. This does not seem unreasonable for me at that time in my fishing experience and it does not include any correction for the possibility that there may have been fewer jewfish around at the end of the ten years, or the ones that were there may have learnt, to at least some extent, how to avoid being caught. If I accept that my learning experience was likely to have been faster than most, because I spent more time at it, it could be more relevant to the estimation of effort creep for an average jewfish fisher to consider a figure for improvement of closer to 5 per cent per year. If those with boats and modern electronics are included, this 5 per cent is much more likely to be a serious underestimate than an exaggeration. Recent evaluation of effort creep in some of Australia’s commercial fisheries suggests a figure of 2 to 5 per cent in periods of stable numbers of fishers. Five per cent per annum does not seem unreasonable for recreational jewfish fishers in NSW in the sixty-year period (1960–2020) considered in this book. This period included unprecedented developments in gear, including plastic lures of many types, fish-finding electronics and GPS.
At a compound rate of even 5 per cent per annum, the effective fishing power of the same number of fishers would over sixty years go up by a factor of twenty (19.96 to be exact). When you multiply this by the increase in the total number of fishers, the numbers become a little frightening. Unrealistic? Perhaps not! But then few fishermen would accept that they did not get at least a bit better with practice. I do not think that many would argue that gear has not got better, or that fish-finders, GPS and social media do not work.
It must be remembered that if fish populations decrease, the increase in effective effort cannot be expected to translate into increases in catches that mirror that efficiency. Catch per unit of effort as a descriptor of fish abundance must be regarded with great caution, particularly if the unit of effort is defined as the simple number of fishers or the number of days fished. There can be little argument that for the few individuals who knew how, when and where to catch jewfish around the Kingscliff rocks in 1960 and had the time to collect live bait and then fish for at least the rest of the tide, the fishing experience was, on numerous occasions, spectacular. It is most unlikely to ever be repeated, at least not regularly. The fishing was of itself, for the reasons described in this book, more exciting, and for me, compelling, than any I have experienced anywhere since.
The fact that the people of the Tweed in 1960 thought it was a good thing, even necessary, that the big catches of fish that were taken by recreational fishermen were kept and sold, undoubtedly contributed to the total value of the experience for those few of us who did it. In the eye of this beholder, fishing in those days was great fun, and, as I began to realise as early as the 1950s, it could be more than just fun. For me the satisfaction was complete when I legalised the sale of my seafood (chapter 6).
But to provide a more holistic answer to the question of whether fishing in total was better in days-gone-by, consideration must be given to more than the level of satisfaction of a much smaller number of individuals. The obvious addition to the expanded horizon of the question is whether one of these individuals catching one hundred reasonably big jewfish in a season was, or is, better than one hundred people catching one each. Or perhaps thousands of anglers truly believing, from what they have read and heard, that they have a realistic chance of catching one. Or at least enough of a chance to keep purchasing the latest developments in gear, reading with intensity about the exploits of those who had actually done it, and travelling to distant locations to maximise that chance. I know what the tourism, boating, fishing tackle and bait industries behold the better value to be! And there are now many thousands more people in these industries throughout NSW than there were in 1960.
A second component of the bigger question is whether, or not, the impact of fishing, for example jewfish fishing, in the good old days on the fish populations of the time was better than that of current fishing on current populations. Was it more or less? It is a given that the big landings of tailor and jewfish by a few unlicensed individuals in the past would today be considered shameful. But were they collectively more damaging to the underlying fish stocks than current catches? Was the total impact of angling better or worse back then?
The fisheries managers of the time, NSW Fisheries, did not consider that recreational catches in marine waters were damaging at all. They did not even try to estimate how much was caught. But they had similar opinions and not much better knowledge about commercial catches in NSW. The one Fisheries Inspector at Tweed Heads was not worried about damage to fish stocks by recreational fishing. The benefit to seafood supply clearly outweighed any such concerns.
Did these big catches by a few recreational fishers have a bigger impact on the resource base than the impact of the greatly increased fishing power that accompanied human population growth, gear development and information dissemination? It is easy to dismiss the question on the grounds that the evidence that is available is less than definitive. The question could easily be left in the too-hard basket. But with modern science and sixty years of experience the question cannot, in all honesty, be ignored. One answer appears obvious anyway!
There can be little doubt that the increase in the number of fishers over time would have, of itself, led to an increased impact on jewfish populations. I also have little doubt that if the most efficient way to catch jewfish had remained the use of live mullet off rock platforms and training walls at the mouths of rivers, the impact on the jewfish population of NSW would have been a great deal less than it has been.
One of the main reasons why few fishermen caught jewfish in 1960 was because with the gear and knowledge of the time it was not easy. Certainly, the revolution in gear and fishing techniques progressively empowered the average jewfish fisherman of later years. I do not think that more people trying to catch jewfish the old-fashioned way would have increased the total catch anywhere near as much as the developments in gear have done. Not many fishers would have made the effort, or had the time, to do it the old-fashioned way. In other words, I think the fishing of the 1960s in Kingscliff and elsewhere in NSW was collectively extremely inefficient compared to that in 2020. As a result of this inefficiency, coupled with the much smaller number of practitioners, its impact on the underlying jewfish population, which was of course much larger, must have been a great deal less than the relative impact in later years.
Not only has human population growth and modern gear, technology and information greatly increased the number of anglers capable of catching jewfish, but even the relative efficiency of many of those who have been catching jewfish for decades has increased. I saw my own efficiency go up considerably from 1960 to 1970 (discussed above). It went up markedly again in 1973 when I first had access to new-age lures, particularly plastic ones of an ever-expanding range of type, size, design and colour. This was most apparent when I did not have the time to catch live bait and transport it to where I wanted to fish. With lures I had the means to catch jewfish at short notice even in the middle of the day. And modern soft plastic ones were far more effective than the red feathers I traditionally had. With the new lures if I had even an hour to spare, I was a threat to the jewfish population. This threat was increased greatly if that hour was just after sunset. Or if it was in the middle of the day in summer when the southerly was blowing, and the hard-gut mullet were running in the numbers of days gone by.
As outlined above, the total fishing power of the recreational fishing community in NSW in 2020 had risen to many times what it was in 1960. I would suspect that around Kingscliff the figure may be close to one hundred times what it had been. It may be even more. I am confident it is now more than one hundred times what it was in 1950. By 1960 the transformation had commenced, even if it was still in its infancy. When this hugely more efficient total effort is applied to the approximately 10 per cent of the jewfish population that remains in many areas, the magnitude of the problem becomes apparent. A catastrophe could be looming. This may be unavoidable even if there is a strong commitment to the principle of a bag limit of one fish per individual over a period of more than a day, coupled with a restrictive size limit, or limits (a slot limit may become a reality). One hundred times as much effective fishing effort as there was in 1960 even if individual fishers were restricted to taking only one a day will still result in considerably more impact than the available fishing effort had in the good old days.
Then there is the concern that not everybody will abide by the rules. It will always be difficult for a fisher to insist his/her ten-year-old grandson/daughter must release the first jewfish he/she has ever caught, particularly when it is such an impressive fish as a 6-pound specimen of the iconic species he/she has fantasised about catching, as I did for years. And if you are ten years old, even a 4-pound jewfish is a truly beautiful fish to take home and show the family. And, of course, great to eat. The degree of difficulty in releasing the fish is unfortunately increased if the catch is only 1 or 2 centimetres under the legal length, which itself is set at a level that is somewhat arbitrary and over which there is considerable difference of opinion.
Fisheries management in the last six decades, for both commercial and recreational fishing, has improved greatly. That an improvement has occurred is not of itself a huge achievement: in NSW we were starting from an extremely low base. Society’s attitudes to resource sharing and conservation in general have evolved and become more inclusive of the need for action by individuals. Recreational fishers as a community have responded in many positive ways, most obviously by the growing condemnation of excessive catches by individuals, promotion of restraint, including voluntary catch and release, and most importantly, greatly increased responsibility for habitat protection and restoration and general appreciation of the need for environmental conservation. But I have been told by sources I believe are reliable, that illegal sales of fish by recreational fishers in the Tweed region have by no means been eliminated. Some suggest it is more than it has ever been.
In the last two decades, Australia has made huge progress with the management of commercial fisheries. The number of species being over-fished in Commonwealth-managed fisheries has been reduced in this time from approximately forty to zero in recent years. In NSW there has been improvement, but it has been less dramatic. The relatively lesser achievement in State waters is not surprising as the inshore fisheries are generally smaller, more complex and interwoven. Plus, there is much greater need than there is in Commonwealth waters to incorporate the impact of recreational fishing into the assessments of the status of the stocks and subsequent management actions. This is made the more necessary, but difficult, by the recreational catch of numerous species exceeding that of the commercial fishery. For jewfish this has been estimated in the most extensive survey of the last two decades to be by a factor of about seven (chapter 21).
The problem is compounded because the data on the recreational catch and effort are piecemeal at best. The estimation of the recreational catch has been based on much less than ideal sample sizes and less than uniform, or appropriately random, distribution of those samples. ‘Scaling-up’ of the implications of these samples has necessitated assumptions in which there is limited confidence. As a result, stock estimates for jewfish have, by necessity, been disproportionately based on the smaller commercial catch. This commercial catch is not only smaller, and of different size composition than the recreational one, but it also does not cover the total distribution of the species; many more areas are closed to commercial fishing than recreational fishing. Not surprisingly, many scientists have sympathy with the plight of the stock assessors but limited confidence in the assessments currently available.
Even though the commercial catch data have serious limitations for precise stock assessments, there are some effort data about which confidence is justified. Commercial fishing effort targeting jewfish in NSW has been progressively reduced greatly; this is not widely disputed. Furthermore, by-catch of juvenile jewfish by prawn trawlers has, as a result of restrictions in the areas and seasons fished and improvements in by-catch reduction technology, also been reduced to a fraction of what it had been even two decades ago. Total fishing mortality on jewfish by the commercial fishery has decreased greatly in the last few decades.
In the last decade recreational fishers have seen progressive reductions in the bag limit to a single fish and size limit increases to the current 70 centimetres. In spite of what could be interpreted as rather draconian management of jewfish catches by both major fishing sectors, jewfish remains the targeted species about which there is greatest conservation concern in NSW. This of itself adds emphasis to the question, why has the jewfish population been so relatively unresponsive to management to date? Has the management action not been stringent enough? Is a bag limit of one a day for such a large number of increasingly efficient anglers still excessive? Was management too late? Or have we been simply managing the wrong impact(s)?
There is some optimism among NSW Fisheries scientists that what evidence there is finally suggests that management may be working. The inference is that the decline in jewfish populations that had been apparent for decades may finally have been arrested, or at least slowed. But the evidence to support this presumption is far from definitive. I for one am far from convinced.
There is little empirical evidence that a recovery is underway or can even be anticipated with confidence under current regulations and environmental conditions. The reality is that the available data are inadequate to enable even the fundamental question of what caused the problem in the first place to be answered with certainty. We are by no means sure that all the factors that contributed to the decline, particularly the non-fishing threats such as habitat destruction, pollution and introduced organisms, have been identified and correctly prioritised. They have certainly not all been fixed. Most have not even been adequately described. That the total catch, both deliberate and accidental, has been greater than the resource can support has been assumed—an assumption that, based on the less than perfect evidence, appears justified. This assumption is reflected in the management actions that have been taken. The evidence available further suggests that the management response, which did not even begin until the late 1980s, has merely been following the decline and not getting ahead of it.
The question that is fundamental to this book is, has fishing got better or worse with time? Kingscliff examples have been used to suggest one answer to the most obvious interpretation of this question. The provision of more than the obvious superficial answer that relates primarily to the magnitude of individual catches requires assessment of whether or not the outcomes of fishing and its management have got better. Or is management continuing to be merely chasing its tail? If the effectiveness of management has not got better, what needs to change? In the absence of perfect, or even adequate data this is best answered by comparison of what we do know about fishing in the good old days with what we know of fishing today.
More holistic evaluation of the social and environmental components of the question, was fishing really better in the good old days, requires consideration of how the consequences of fishing sixty years ago compare with those in 2020 and what we must anticipate for the next sixty years. Is the impact of fishing, and other threats to fish populations, as currently managed, improving? Is it improving quickly enough for the fishing in the next sixty years to be better than it was in last sixty (the good old days)?