Illawarra Flyfishers Club
28th November 2000
Lake Curalo, Eden
After a hectic session of Uni, I was lucky enough to go home after my final exam in late November for a few precious days before starting work in Nowra, which would take up most of my summer. The week before had seen a Mark and I down at the lake entrance at Warilla, where we saw some big blue and yelloweye mullet foraging over the rising sandflats. Not having my fly rod with me, I went home and had a good look at what fly might stand a chance against these extremely fussy (frustrating!) fish. I wasn’t really impressed with some bloodworm flies I had tied the year before – the kind with a small stinger hook and foam tail attached via an extended wool/chenille body. Although I had moderate success on them in Lake Curalo last year (small bream, mullet, trevally), they were definitely too large to tempt the big cruising mullet common on our sandflats. The challenge was on!
The resulting fly was a prototype of sorts, but the more I looked at it, the more it appealed to me – simple and small. Apart from the beadhead, which looks much more attractive than lead or bead-chain eyes, the whole fly is basically comprised of blood red wool, which is much more durable (and cheaper) than chenille or vernille. I stumbled upon a great crinkly effect when prying apart the wool fibres that I had plans to use for the tail, so rather than straighten it out, I left the curls as they were, to suggest movement. On a #12 hook, it was half the size of conventional saltwater worm patterns, and I was eager to give it a swim.
Back to Curalo…while wading the knee-deep sandflat near the entrance, I spotted a big blue mullet zipping in and out of the rocks close to the bank. The fish was around 2 or 3lb and was working his way up current, then turning side on and drifting back down to make another pass. I waited until he drifted back down the flat, then lobbed the fly upstream so it drifted down into his path. After a few seconds, he shuffled up near where I thought the fly to be, so I gave it a little twitch. The mullet moved towards it, had a glance, then kept going. Another cast, and the same thing – without the glance. Oh well, nothing new there. I recently talked to a friend of mine who is studying aquaculture in Tassie, and he said that most mullet feed on tiny invertebrates and weed in the sand, sucking up small mouthfuls of sand and blowing it out through their gills, filtering out the tucker. Try matching that hatch!
I moved onto another flat where there seemed to be a bit more mullet activity. The fish were there in numbers, but they were all small and seemed to be frolicking rather than feeding in the ankle deep water. About 35m away I spotted a dark shape cruising slowly towards me. I thought it odd that the fish should stand out so much from the pale yellow sand, but I guess they spend most of their time cruising the weedbeds in the channels. It was another big sea mullet, about the same size as the first one I had seen. His path was pretty straight, so I dropped the fly about 10m in front and to the right of him so the fly would have time to settle on the bottom. As the fish approached where I thought the fly would be, I inched it off the bottom. The water was about thigh deep and I couldn’t quite see what he did, so I went to twitch it again. As I drew the line tight, I felt resistance and lifted the rod. I felt the fish’s weight before the hook pulled and the fly came out of the water.
Swearing, I looked down and saw that the fish was darting his head from side to side – looking for his meal! I roll cast the fly right back next to him, and incredibly, the fish grabbed it again. I lifted the rod and the same thing happened. I can only assume the fish either mouthed it or grabbed onto the tail and missed the hook. I was a bit disappointed to have missed the fish, but in my experience just getting one of these fish to touch an artificial is an achievement.
I moved onto a new section and picked up a small bream near a weedbed on the edge of the waist-deep channel that runs through the lower part of the lake. A couple of casts later, and another small bream took a liking to the fly. Next cast, a bigger fish around the 3/4 lb mark put a good bend in the 4-weight before coming in to be released. Obviously the midday sun wasn’t affecting their mood much, and I didn’t mind at all. Knee-deep water, warm day, light breeze and an effective fly – what more could you ask for?
Several casts later, I got my answer as I watched the flyline disappear through the rod at an alarming rate. In a few seconds I was down to the backing as a big bream picked up the fly and motored off to the channel, with me in hot pursuit. I had managed to get most of the line back onto the reel when suddenly the fish took off again and took me back down to the backing. After about 20 minutes of surging runs, I had the fish beaten and took it back to the dry sand to get a photo (tip: always fish in pairs).
At 43cm from nose to fork, it was by far the biggest bream I had caught. To do it with a fly rod in the middle of a sunny day made it all the better. It wasn’t really a tough decision to release the 3lb fish, as at this size they are around 15 years old and it seemed worthy to live and fight another day.
Andrew Susani