Eildon Greens with my boys

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samjas1316
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Eildon Greens with my boys

Post by samjas1316 » Mon Dec 24, 2018 2:31 pm


G'day All.
We decided to give the cod a decent crack at Eildon last week and the following is my eldest boy Sam's write up. Warning: very long report!

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It’s been quite a while since the last write up of mine. Actually, it’s been quite a while since the last trip of mine. Unfortunately, school life isn’t as kind as it used to be, and with the coming years set to only multiply that workload, these trips are becoming more and more of a luxury. The Sundays I used to spend on the bay or a lake have gradually been replaced with days of exam study or homework. I just haven’t been fishing as much as I used to. Suffice to say that, once school holidays had begun, when I learnt that Dad had booked us in at a boatel on Lake Eildon, I was ecstatic. Sure, this wasn’t a water I was completely familiar with; I wouldn’t be flicking soft plastics around flats or tossing flies down a stream, this was pretty foreign territory for me. This was no Lake Tyers or Marlo, and it would be far from my first preference location-wise. But nevertheless, it was fishing. It was three days of it, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Monday rolled around, and it was, surprisingly, pretty relaxed. No early wake up, no rush to pack. We ended up embarking on the two hour slog up to Eildon around 10:30, allowing us to get settled into our accommodation by 1. With the expansive waters of Eildon as our backyard and the boat moored to the porch, the setting was as ideal and picturesque as it can get. We rigged the rods up and we were on the water by 4:30, planning to fish until the very last light. The rods were fresh from the several snapper sessions that my Dad and brother had gone on. Heavy gear, 20 lb braid and 20 lb leaders. We were after one thing. Cod. We’d targeted Cod before, on trips up to the Murray, but never as seriously as this. While back then we’d thrown some yabbies’ in a creek and managed a few cod that barely scraped the 30 cm mark, this time we wanted some proper cod, and on lures.
pic1.JPG
We trolled around for three hours. We tried shallow banks, steep banks, snaggy banks, clearer banks, inlets and edges. We didn’t get the slightest nudge. After trying what seemed to be the hundredth ‘promising’ shore, we decided to drift and throw spinnerbaits. The sun was starting to get lower, and we were hoping the fish would come out to play soon. My brother and I were throwing our purple lures up and around the edges. My rustiness was on full display, as my brother laughed at me hitting tree after tree. It took me a bit until I regained any sort of rhythm, but by then, we were in the last hour or so of light. ‘Yeah I mean, I never expected to catch anything’ I told myself. ‘Cod are a hard fish to catch whatever’. I’d much rather be on the hopping plastics for flatties right now. Or so I thought:

“Look there’s a nice log up ahead,” Dad said, “there’s gotta be a cod in there”. I tried to deny his claims of psychic omnipotence by saying that I would have cast there even if he didn’t say anything, but still. He was right. A nice gap in the sticks with a thick laydown that was barely clinging on to the water’s edge. It was largely submerged, and the cast right above it was followed by the vicious strike of a nice cod. My first on lure. And the feeling of seeing it swim into the net is one which is absolutely unmatched. This is why I go fishing. This is why I love fishing. I was satisfied, I could go back home and be completely fulfilled.
pic2.JPG
Nothing could make the night better, until my rod bent again, and suddenly the weight began pulling back. Another one. On a similar looking log as well. Two cod in about half an hour, Christmas had come early. But as the most loving, caring and compassionate (haha) brother I am, I decided to give the rod to my brother who had been patiently casting for several hours to no avail:
pic3.JPG
He managed to reel in a similarly sized fish, and the smile on his face matched mine. That was his first cod, period, and although it really shouldn’t count (I did cast and hook it up!) it was his first Cod on lures. Another swift release followed, and so did the night. We called it a night when I cast it straight into a tree and realized that I couldn’t see it. We tied the boat up to the house, cooked up some instant noodles, and got ready for bed. The alarms were ready for the next morning, and we decided to leave the successful first day there. Oh, but not before my brother and I celebrated our victory over Dad, our favourite sledge of the day being:
“Wow what a session! No donuts today!”
“Oh wait…”
We were on the water by 6 the next morning. I decided I’d throw around a surface lure, as, after yesterday’s session, I was brimming with confidence. While my brother and I decided to ‘challenge ourselves’ with the topwater baits, our Dad decided he needed a fish and stuck to the lethal spinnerbait of the night before. And he was quick to get his revenge:
pic4.JPG
A much, much smaller fish as I was quick to point out, but it meant that he was on the board. And I guess you can say, it meant mission success. All of us had managed to catch a cod on lures by now, and that was the goal. And it only took us a session and a bit. A perfect start to the trip.

Hopes were high after an early fish, and the bank we had returned to was establishing itself as a real kicker of a spot. However, even after that initial success, the fish proved elusive. We had swapped over to spinnerbaits after that first fish and even then, hadn’t got a touch. We called it quits after three hours of arduous casting for a single cod.

We headed in for breakfast and decided we’d go out again at the same time as the day prior. As the mercury creeped toward the 27 degree mark, we found ourselves wanting to jump into the crystal-clear depths of Eildon more and more. After taking some time to relax, we hopped on the boat and continued our cod caper. We decided to forgo trolling, as all the success we had encountered had come to us on the cast. We decided to explore a bit and leave our ‘special spot’ until the very last hour of light.
However, it proved to be a similar case to the day before. Bank after bank, cast after cast. I was tired, my brother and dad were too. We plugged away at laydowns and log jams, trying to enchant the casts with repeated uttering of ‘there’s gotta be one there”. Of course, to no avail. We found another good-looking inlet and decided to drift its perimeter. And all of a sudden, to break the afternoon’s mundanity, were my Dad’s calls of ‘fish on’. What looked to be a great take and a great fight was soon met with mixed feelings upon netting. A Yella.

Far from an undesirable catch, it just felt somewhat disappointing seeing as the first fish after three hours of fishing wasn’t even the target species. Nonetheless, it was a bit of hope for us, and more importantly, a fish to bring home. We weren’t planning on bringing home a Cod, but a pan sized Yellowbelly wouldn’t hurt. Although we were somewhat reinvigorated by a sign of fish, the previously established mundanity ensued once more. I was convinced that the cod had decided to migrate to the opposite end of the lake for the day. The nastiest log jams which looked like they were built for a fish were barren and empty. It was hard going.
The sun was setting, and we returned once more to the only bank we’d caught cod on. Things started off slow, keeping up with the trend of the day. The snags that held fish only the evening prior were now uninhabited. I was starting to wonder whether I was going to meet the same fate as my Dad the day before. I was determined to prevent that from happening. Anything but a donut. And finally, fish on. Except it wasn’t me. It was my brother. I looked back to see my dad’s rod bent over, however in Jasper’s hand. My dad had cast it out and let him retrieve it, and now there was a fish on the other end:
pic5.JPG
When it came in my brother and dad’s sheer elation was in stark contrast to what I was feeling at the time. It wasn’t helped by the fact that I had cast in the same place only a moment before. ‘Crap.’ I thought. ‘Maybe this will end up being a donut.’. And no, there’s no twist here. That was the last fish of the day. I was exhausted, tired and drained. And for a donut. The instant noodles were a lot less tasty then the night before that’s for sure. I was pretty eager to get to bed that night, it was a shocker of a session and all I could do was hope that the next day, our last day, would yield better results. The 31 degree forecast was suggesting so. If only things were that easy.

Same time as the day before, only this time I was more lethargic then bursting with excitement. It was already warm enough for shorts outside, which was a good sign. The somewhat slouching performance of our go-to spot convinced us to change it up. We headed to the opposite shore, an inlet which my Dad spotted the day before. It looked really fishy, which we learned after yesterday doesn’t necessarily translate to fish. Eildon is a huge waterway, and while its heavy stocking program has been well documented, it doesn’t mean that the fish are waiting in a barrel for you. The endless banks treat you with cold indifference, a lot of the inlets make you question if you have already been there before. It’s honestly a very challenging fishery. But I was perseverant, firm in belief that I could catch one in this last session of fishing.

I was straight on the spinnerbaits this time. No messing around, I was serious. My casting was more precise than all of the previous outings, call it an accumulation of practice. Those hours spent throwing the same lure meant I was getting it in the zone on almost every cast. And it soon paid off:
pic6.JPG
Finally. There’s some much-needed relief. A much smaller fish then my first, but I’ll take anything at this point. After a smooth release, my spirits had been lifted. By now the sun had gone up high enough to put on the polaroids. I needed to see the snags, I needed to know where to put my lure. Sure enough, I found a good-looking snag submerged a few metres under the surface, pulled my lure through and bang. Hit. No fish. Just hit. A huge sigh was let out. The fish before had put me even with Dad, one more would have put me in the lead. We have a bit of a competition every time we go out on one of these big trips, as you might have noticed from our past reports. Although I was disappointed, I wasn’t disheartened. The first fish was still fresh in my mind and I was still hopeful.

And then we returned to an all familiar scene. A repetitive process of cast, retrieve. And cast again. Soon enough, time was running short. And after that initial hope lifting fish, spirits only travelled downwards thanks to two and half hours of nothing. It was a huge slap in the face and a reminder that fishing, is fishing. As easy as it may seem sometimes, I forgot how much hard work it can be to achieve success. That’s fishing, then. When my Dad said, ‘ok last spot’, I had just about given up. We approached the end of the bank, and all that was left was for the call of ‘last cast’ to be made. Except, we would find any excuse to prevent that from happening. And Dad soon found one:
pic7.JPG
It was the biggest of the trip, and the first legal size fish too. We still released it, and with it went the downcast and gloomy mood. We decided to stay for a bit longer, if only just for one more. I wanted just one more. We continued and turned at the next point. One of the best-looking banks of the trip, which says a lot. A few casts later, and I saw it. Big, green, tailing my lure from right inside the snag. I saw the deep green body. The dark tail. And the cream belly, the flash as it turned away and retreated back into the snag. That was a cod. A big cod. And as my heart left my mouth, I could only be despondent.

The fish I saw kept growing in my mind. It got bigger every time I thought of it. It’ll haunt me for a while. It could have made my day, no my year. A fish like that would have capped off a trip. And with barely any time left, it could have been the last fish I saw. We turned back around, to the bank which Dad had caught his fish on. This was it. The last one. This was really my last chance. My cast was direct, it had landed only a metre away from the sure. This one, surely. And the fishing gods took pity on me:
pic8.JPG
It was my biggest for the trip. No monster, nowhere near the fish I saw earlier but, on the very last drift of the day, I couldn’t have asked for more. While the fish before would have made this trip perfect, this one still cemented it as unforgettable. One of my first trips in quite a while, and with this last cod, one that I can call successful. This was a fishing trip. Highs, lows. Hard work, and its rewards. It was truly one to remember.

Thanks for reading, Sam.

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davek
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Re: Eildon Greens with my boys

Post by davek » Mon Dec 24, 2018 3:39 pm

Very good report and some nice fish, well done lads, cheers davo :thumbsup:
It's an exhilarating feeling catching a fish
But it's an even better feeling releasing them

westvic
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Re: Eildon Greens with my boys

Post by westvic » Mon Dec 24, 2018 6:05 pm

Great report mate and well done :a_goodjob:

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Re: Eildon Greens with my boys

Post by Boonanza » Mon Dec 24, 2018 6:32 pm

That sure is a great report and some cracking fish well done fellas :a_goodjob:
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Re: Eildon Greens with my boys

Post by Lightningx » Mon Dec 24, 2018 9:58 pm

Your reports are always a pleasure to read mate!
Great pics as well! Just awesome. Well done :a_goodjob:

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Re: Eildon Greens with my boys

Post by mazman » Mon Dec 24, 2018 10:45 pm

Nice work on your first on lure, Eildon can be an incredibly tough fishery so to catch multiple in a session there is a great effort.
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