A Grey Spanish Day in April – By Bill Bowtell
I like the waxing moon for offshore fishing; especially the second and third tides after the neaps of the quarter moon phase. Here in my patch of country on the Capricorn Coast, these tides produce a final run to the top of the tide at around the 0630hr mark: with a height of around 4m and a tidal difference of about 2.7m average. At this time of year, mid-April, this water movement occurs just after sunrise, that transitional period which definitely activates the fish – both demersal, as well as pelagic. I checked my tide tables.
TIME-LINE 1981; A catch of 7 greys and 6 Spanish taken at Conical Rocks on the same tides during the same month – April. The value in keeping good, long-term, records for reference.
The weather along the entire eastern seaboard had been under the influence of upper level lows marching in from the west and northwest. These rain bearing systems, on nearing the coast, not only of Queensland, but the northern and Central coasts of NSW as well, slammed headlong into strong south east winds, generated by a tight pressure gradient located between an east Tasman Sea low and a series of “highs” coming through in succession across the Great Australian Bight.
It was almost the “Perfect Storm” scenario: rain fell in buckets and winds blew with strength and regular monotony. In mid-April , “Windy Premium” and “Willys Weather”, both showed a small break in this seemingly set pattern, particular along the coastline north of Agnes Water and through to about Clairview, north of the Broadsound. The winds were predicted as “variable to about 10 knots”, for a 12 hour window. The day of the forecast was Thursday 18th April. The date to which it referred was Friday 19th April. It was going to be tight. I checked my notes whilst I had a cup of coffee and listened to the ABC news.
The stomach cavity of the 8.6kg Spanish shows the “spent” sex organs. This fish spawned somewhere along the east coast near-north to north of Conical Rocks.
Outside the wind was definitely dropping out. The palm trees ceased their rustle and the clouds stopped their racing across the sky. They settled into more of a gentle trot. The ABC news reporter read the sports report, “and in the Barcelona Open, clay court tournament, Australia’s Alex de Minaur has defeated former World No.1, and current Barcelona Open Champion, Rafael Nadal, 7/5,6/1”. He then went on to extol the virtues of the win. I thought to myself as I read my fishing notes; “Well! a grey day for the Spanish in April” Then congratulated myself on my self-indulgent wit; for the notes at which I was looking read, “Greys and Spanish: these tides in April”. They were indeed the 18th and 19th April 1981. I took this as an omen. A superstitious entitlement tolerated by others and given to a sea-going person and fisher. Livio Regano’s weather report on Channel 7’s, 6 o’clock news confirmed this window of fair weather. So it was “all go”. My notes showed that on previous trips over the years, whilst the winds had been at strengths as high as 18 knots, the waters were clear and blue and the prevailing winds were primarily from the S-SW quarter. A complete contrast to the experiences over the past two months where SE winds to 30 knots and better, and rainfall in the order of 520mm had prevailed. Still, my mate Kim, who has a good knowledge of grey mackerel, was keen to go. So it was set. We left Rosslyn Bay boat harbour at 4:55am.
Kim Martin with a fine example of a Keppel Bay grey mackerel taken on a 50grm “Flasha” lure.
The water under the yellow lights of the harbour was a milky green, and the smell of freshwater in the mix was evident. For the greys we were chasing, I wasn’t overly concerned, for they love these kind of water conditions. Plus we were heading east, out to the islands and I knew that on the high tide at around the 0630hr mark the mix would certainly be in favour of the wider seawater.
Greys will come right into Keppel Bay during the period of offshore, to parallel, coastal winds. They are seeking out anchovies and schools of herring which gather around the rocky shoals, headlands and near inshore reefs. And even though the seas, wind and increased rainfall over the previous few months had made conditions near impossible to fish, the fish themselves; both predators, greys and Spanish, along with the bait schools went on about their business and moved into their known feeding locations.
Dawn was still about 20 minutes away when we arrived at Conical Rocks. We decided to troll for Spanish first, then chase greys on the first of the run out. It was also a good opportunity to check this area out first, as there was still a big swell running and Conical offered some protection to anything coming in from the S-SE quarter. The trolling rods, rigged with last year’s catch of ribbon fish, were run at staggered distances out the back and locked into the horizontal rod holders. A brew of coffee, freshly made only an hour or so before, was poured and the obligatory, two Scotch Finger biscuits, were unraveled from the alfoil wrapping. We started a troll just as a grey slither split the horizon.
April day in Keppel Bay. The weather pundits got it right. A welcomed break for all rec fishers.
With the grey, came the orange hue and the golden gleam. Then came the first strike! A hit; then a miss. A failed hook-up. Once re-rigged the starboard side flat line was reset. A hit, a miss; fish number two. I checked the hooks. They were sharp, razor sharp. Maybe these were small school fish around the 6kg mark. But they were cleaning the hooks of any bait. Kim’s line remained untouched. Why? We don’t know. Bait number three was run out. It didn’t go the full distance. The spool spun under my thumb and the 15kg mono line got warm under pressure. The lever was pushed forward to “strike position” and the fight was on.
This was a good fish. It hit on the drop-back as the bait was being fed out. There is a ploy that I always use when running (feeding) lines out when trolling for mackerel: and that is; feed out say five – eight metres then stop the spool. This lifts the bait in the water and makes it “swim”, free spool once again for the same distance then repeat the process. The bait will rise and fall in the water column. Repeat this process until your set distance is met. However, if there are Spanish in your immediate area they will strike well before then as the bait rises and falls.
Kim checked the sounder and found the fish to be sitting around the 12m mark. It was obvious that the weighted bait had dropped down near enough to the schooled fish to get some interest. It was enough to stir this particular fish into action. It went a creditable 9.6kg, a welcomed catch. We swung Kim’s bait across to the down rigger. Set the depth to10 metres, trolled ten metres and took a solid strike. The fish came in with a mouth full of hooks. It went 8kgs.
Our fishing time was 15 minutes from first troll to second fish in the kill box! It was 6:30am.
The sun was clear of the horizon, but tucked in under an early morning cloud bank. We checked the water and talked about going to chase some squid. But decided against it as there was still some greys to catch.
The open stomach of an 8kg Spanish mackerel shows stage development of the ovaries at about 3 to 4. This fish was taken in September wide of Conical Rocks.
The area where the greys sit at Conical is quite specific. Five other boats had arrived in the area since our arrival and were all trolling lures around at a great rate of knots. Maybe they were newcomers to the area, but they showed very little knowledge of their surrounds. And even less skill in how to read the water and the many current lines that form around Conical as the tides ebb and flow. The birds knew and scored very well as they dipped and swooped between the swells.
We packed up after being hustled out of the area by prop wash and motor noise and made inshore towards Findlay’s Reef, with the options of then heading north, or south, to fish the wrecks, bommies and headlands in search of greys.
Findlay’s Reef was a city of boats. News travels fast in fishing circles, especially these days with social media and mobile phones in everybody’s possession. Most boats were just anchored. Some were bottom fishing, whilst others were tossing small chrome lures then retrieving at a fair rate of knots. S-Cape 2 went in search amongst the boats to check for any sign of fish.
Most boats were anchored on, or around the eastern “bommies” of the reef. The tide by now was at a solid and steady ebb, which is always the preferred time to fish Findlay’s. But there was just too much activity. I swung S-Cape 2 wide and to the SW. There was evidence of a strong current running south-north and along the front of the main reef. Both the Furuno and Simrad lit up as a school of big fish passed under the keel.
A range of lures for greys and dogs. Clockwise from L-R: Raider, Pegron, ABU Toby, 50g Flasha, 25g Flasha, Bumpa Bar and 35g striped Flasha.
Kim took over the wheel as I dropped out a 65gm Raider lure, threw the reel into gear, and cranked the handle of the ever-reliable Shimano Speed Master overhead. Six cranks of the handle and a hook-up. A 52cm doggie mackerel was no match for the 30lb braid and solid Angler “Yellow Fin Series” rod. Another drop and another just legal doggie. The school of fish were moving with the boat. Whether it was due to the fact that they were following the hooked fish, or whether they were being pushed by the current, is unsure. That they were staying right underneath us was the main point. There were some big ones high in the school.
A long cast out the back of the boat allowed the lure to be in the strike zone for a longer period of time. The strike was fast and solid. The 30lb braid crackled off the reel and the butt of the rod bit into my stomach. This was a solid fish. Greys are known to toss it in relatively quickly. They rely on a very solid first run then zig-zag back to the boat. This one fought all the way. It was a beauty at around the 90cm mark. The fish was bled and slipped into the brine slurry.
We swung away to the north west and ran with the current heading in towards the headlands of Corio Bay. The school of fish that had been following us began to scatter – one last cast. A hook-up! This was a BIG fish! At first it was called a black jew, then a big Spanish, cod even got mentioned in there somewhere. Ah, yes! A giant trevally, that is what it is! After almost an hour of pumping and winding and chasing this fish over a distance of a kilometre all was revealed – a huge white-spotted cow tailed ray of at least 1.8m across. What a bloody tussle! The beautiful animal was cut free. It was dazed. I was sore!
Greys (and dogs) and Spanish – a great day in April.
Oh, yes! And rays! Now there’s one for the records!
The filleting table with two nice Spanish and a lone grey. All great table fare. A typical April catch.
