Fishing – Making Your Own Wilderness – Part 2 – By Bill Bowtell
It was an early morning run out along the shipping channel to the 3rd buoy. It was April 1986. I had been living and working across the Gulf Country, from the NT border, up into the western side of Cape York Peninsula to as far north as Kowanyama and the Mitchell River, for more than a year. This was my first holiday break during that time and my first real chance to go fishing with mates.
In preparation I had just bought a new boat – a Manta Craft, 12ft (3.6m) aluminium punt with an 8HP Mariner outboard motor. Not flash, but easily transportable on my box trailer-cum-camp set-up and sufficient for plying the shallow waters of the lower Gulf and its creeks and river. For safety, it had torch battery operated nav lights, a hand held torch, a set of oars, lifejackets and a bailing bucket, which also served as a live bait container. A cane deck chair and a beach umbrella took care of the on-board comfort factor. After its maiden fishing trip it got christened, “Grunt-R-Punt”.
Dad (Bowie)(R) and mate, “Yak” (L), inspecting the morning catch from Grunt-R-Punt.
Back in 1986 , the 3rd buoy of the Norman River shipping channel that led into the port of Karumba in the SE corner of the Gulf of Carpentaria, was the primary channel marker for shipping entering, and leaving, the river to berth at the port. This importance was that the 3rd buoy denoted a major directional change in the channel to the sou-east on entry, and the nor-nor-west, on departure. It signified a section of channel where pilots and skippers had to be both aware and alert.
To the north of the marker buoy the channel was a near straight run seaward to the red lead light; to the west was a near flat, shallow, low-water bank; to the east-nor-east was a large crescent-shaped sandbank that became exposed at low water on nearly all tides. To the south and sou-west however was a myriad of sand/mud gutters that ran almost parallel to the shoreline some 3km inshore. These gutters were rather unique. Having been formed by wave, wind and tide, they formed a pattern of sorts that resembled the dunes of a desert. Some continued for hundreds of metres, only to close out, or join with another gutter and start again. I found (over four year of fishing this area) that one such gutter had formed at the 3rd buoy and by following the colour change, it gave the small boat skipper all tide access to the Bynoe River, west of the Norman River at Karumba. If a boat could navigate this area, then the fish had to be moving through there as well. Was there a connection between fish movement along the Norman river channel, and the poorly defined Bynoe channel? Working that out was invaluable!
Cast netting for mullet and herring. Cast nets are essential for bait gathering in the Gulf.
The small shiny punt, complete with deck chair, umbrella and four hessian potato bags as floor covering, looked out of place in the middle of nowhere; for I had only heard of the 3rd buoy, but never visited it. I moved past the flashing red light. The sun was just rising away to the east. A call came across the water. “Hey you, go! Fish away from me!” There was an unlit boat anchored 30m away from the marker in the picaninny darkness, no lights of any sorts. I stopped, adjusted my night vision, recognized the boat as “local”, but had never met the occupant. I said “hello” which was dismissed with a wave of the hand and arm. It was a big ocean, so I did as I was told. His name was “Charlie”. I went and looked for somewhere that would either hold fish, or allow them passage.
Back in 1986 chart plotters for small inshore boats were non-existent. Navigation was by compass, chart and/or, visual landmarks. Sounders were either paper with stylus, or flasher electronics on a graded disc screen. Digital LCR sounders were still in their infancy and – apart from the big markets like those in the USA – were still a couple of years away for the general fishers here in Australia: chart plotters even further. “Grunt-R-Punt” relied on visual and compass for position and the length of rope at anchor for depth of water. It was basic. I moved to a spot where the water was just starting to flow as the tide turned to the flood.
A post wet season king taken on a handline. Note the green water and the fat condition of the fish: baitfish abound.
Dropping and setting the anchor I stood and looked around to take in the surroundings. The boat was anchored in about 3m of water and around the 150m distance from the marker buoy. I took a compass bearing to it and wrote it down in my notebook. Looking back inshore there were three, what appeared to be, large casuarina trees. They were taller than the rest. A bearing was taken to the centre one and written down. The third fix was back to the mangroves along the western edge of the Norman river mouth. These magnetic bearings were converted to “True” bearings and fixed on my marine chart of the area. I had my first fishing spot located.
I set three lines; two rods, one a 6kg outfit and the other a heavier 10kg model. I then ran my trusted wooden spool 40lb handline straight down the current and at the back of the boat. All sets were using wide gap hooks and #3 bean sinkers. All three baits were strips, or fillets, of freshly caught mullet.
I noted the hang of the starboard, 10kg line which was tossed back towards the marker. It was short suggesting deeper water. The handline, lying over the transom, ran 5metres then disappeared into the flow at the same angle – shallower. The 6kg outfit, cast to the south towards the distant casuarina trees, was sitting at a flat angle – even less depth in the water. Even making some allowances for the differences in line diameter and rod heights, it was clearly evident that the spot where I had chosen was very near to the inside edge of the main shipping channel: a critical point and change of depth.This positioning gave me the opportunity to, not only intercept fish travelling through, but also to find out what fish were moving in the area. I again checked out the water.
A local resident of Walkers Ck. This big fella was up on the Jenny Lynd crossing late one night when it was flooded due to heavy storms. Bill had to drive around it.
The flow was steady. And as the light got stronger with the rising of the sun and further dissipation of the early morning convection clouds, a clear,colour line of demarcation, between the sea water flowing within the submerged edges of the shipping channel and the waters flowing across the mud/sand gutters, could be seen. This line of demarcation was further emphasized by a continuous line of floating mangrove leaves moving along the same line as current. It just spelt “fish”. I was confident. The wait was not long.
All three lines went off almost together. The handline spun violently on the floor of the punt before catching, and locking up, under the back bench seat. It held. A check of the rods showed them locked up tight in the newly installed rod holders; they could wait. My old, new ”mate”, Charlie, starting acting up over closer to the buoy, crying out, “Bloody pescegatto!” whilst belting the hell out of a big catfish. I didn’t say anything, there was only two of us out here. That fish could have been me! The fish on my lines weren’t catfish. In came a 6kg blue threadfin taken on the 6kg outfit off of the flats. The handline set along the edge of the channel produced a beautiful 3kg grunter. But it was the heavy 10kg, Dave Donald built, JS 980 Jig Stik, that produced the fish of the day – a 72lb (32.7kgs) black jew taken from the deeper waters of the channel. The fish were bled and stored under the shade of the umbrella and in my icebox at the front of the boat. More followed as the tide rose.
The lower Gulf of Carpentaria experiences what are referred to as, “diurnal tides”; put simply, diurnal tides usually have one high and one low, tide each day. Karumba is one such area where diurnal tides occur. At first this took a bit of working out for obvious reasons. It was a rule of thumb when fishing this area to allow for a twelve-and-a-half hour flood tide and a twelve hour ebb tide. Therefore a 6am low would generate a 6:30pm high that evening. Fish can, and do, move a long way during that time period. That morning I moved five times and covered about 5km in distance to fish: first, travelling sou-west towards the Bynoe, then, secondly, back to the buoy and then sou-east along the edge of the channel back towards Karumba Point. I found fish, or they found me, on every occasion, even filling the ice box and then some. It was a steep learning curve. Every spot fished was marked. There was a reason.
Bill with a Bynoe River barra. Working the barra out was a case of understanding the tides then applying the principles learnt over on the east coast: gutters, mudbanks, eddies, snags and cover and a bit of patience.
Back at camp that night I discussed my success and what I had found with the other blokes. We worked out the compass conversions at each spot I fished and plotted them onto the marine chart. These marks were very close to the already existing contours lines of the western edge of the Norman River shipping channel. I calculated the bearings between each location just for sake of interest as there were some spots along those contour lines that certainly needed investigating. And if I could find the spots to catch fish, then I could be there waiting for them, knowing that they would turn up – sometime! That “sometime” would have to be worked out according to the tide and distance and even specie. It was a bit complicated, and certainly a move away from what was, back then, “normal fishing practice”. To labour this point:
When I was a young lad my Dad owned a 14ft (4.3m) bondwood, flat-bottomed rowing boat. When we went fishing down to places such as the Coomera river, Jacob Wells, or to Jumpin’ Pin, we would use the tide to row to a likely looking spot, anchor up and fish. At some stage we would set a few crab pots not too far away and check them periodically. We would probably work and fish about 400m of bank as the tide ebbed. At the turn of the tide we would fish for another hour before packing up and rowing back to the landing. We caught crabs and fish: the fish were spasmodic. They were taken as they came through, or, if the location was ideal, where they stopped over for a rest, or to feed. That was our day. We would possibly get two bite sessions in 8 hours of fishing.
At the filleting table – Matilda’s End cabins, Karumba 2004. The fish are still there!
Dad then bought a 14ft (4.3m) Savage dinghy with a 15hp motor. We went to the same places, but did it quicker and moved to a lot more places in the search of BETTER fishing. Sometimes we did catch more fish, but most times it was an even par when it came to numbers. When the penny dropped for me, I caught more fish. FIRST, I had to know the, “where and when”, to find the fish: and, then be there waiting at that time! That has remained with me for years. That is the reason for marking the chart.
The next morning saw four boats heading out of the river. My success of the previous day prompted the six other blokes in the group: boat #1, Bowie – my Dad, Pelican – his mate; boat #2,Morrie – my mate, Nino – his Dad; boat #3, Freddy – Nino’s mate, Marcello – well, just a wild man, to give up chasing barra up-river and head offshore for some grunter and threadies.
Charlie was already there sitting in his boat. The only light showing was the glow of a cigarette. I yelled out “hello” and he responded with a wave of his arm and a grunt – better than nothing I suppose. The bugger was sitting right where I started fishing the previous day, at the mouth of the gutter running back in the direction of the Bynoe River.
The three other boats scattered around, working on the information I had given the day before. But Charlie was in the prime position at the head of the gutter and took three big grunter in the space of 20mins of our arrival. The run in the water was barely discernable. All that changed however was a surge of green gulf water came flushing through, carrying mangrove leaves and other small pieces of flotsam. Everybody hooked up on grunter.
Looking out along the Norman River lead lights as the sun sets over the Gulf waters.
I took three fish and rapidly moved ahead of the flow to a spot I had marked on the chart just wide of the yellow 2nd buoy. I checked two bearings back to some features on Karumba Point, then one to the marker buoy. Two lines were set. I then sat back and timed the wait until the first bite. It was 55minutes from my first hook-up at the 3rd buoy. Four fish were taken here at the 2nd buoy – three grunter and one blue threadfin. Time for another move.
This time the shift was only about 1km. It was fixed by compass bearings back to the second marker, to the old wharf at the Point and the QB&FP house near the airstrip. Here the chart showed a large indent in the contours depicting the western side of the channel. This was either a large drain running off of the flats, or a gutter of sorts running parallel to the mangrove shoreline heading west towards the Bynoe river. It was noticeable by the build up of leaves near a swirl of muddied water out over the 1m deep mud bank. The fish were already waiting – fingermark, threadfin (blue and king), jewel fish, grunter and even a lone barra all made up the catch. It was time to give it away. I knew how to find the fish. The river had given up some of its secrets.
In 1988 I purchased my first sounder, a Humminbird LCR 41D – with the marketing slogan, “if its red, it’s a fish!”. 15 years of fishing was squeezed into 1. Not years, but, trip!
Dad (Bowie) with a beautiful 3kg+ grunter from the area around the 3rd buoy.
