Angler - Deb Foster

When you think of the West do you think of rivers? Most likely not! Western Australia is best known for its immense coastline and grilling deserts, yet rivers also present spectacular opportunities for anglers.

We are without doubt, as I’m sure most of you reading this magazine agree, living within the most diverse fishing state of this vast country. Although the majority of the population is concentrated in the south, neighbouring the well-known rivers of the Swan and Margaret, lets not forget the mighty Fitzroy in the Kimberley and marvel at its potential for keen anglers.

For those who read the first issue of this magazine (and there can’t be many who didn’t with over 10000 copies sold!!) you will remember the articles written regarding the Fish’n’Chicks winning the Billfish Tournament in Broome. Many people ask whether we enjoy other types of angling. As one of the girls myself, let me tell you that not only are we all keen game-fishing anglers, but we also venture out for any other piscine challenge. Last weekend Tracey was at Rowley Shoals diving, Sara was working as deckie aboard a charter boat chasing marlin, I had just returned from the Kimberley, Wallcot Inlet, Cockatoo Island and Silver Gull Creek working on a charter boat, and Deb was chasing that legendary barramundi along the Fitzroy River.

One recent weekend Deb, along with four other Broome locals, packed their 4wds, tinnies and fishing gear and set off for a bout of fishing in the nearest river. Where’s the nearest river you may ask? In WA long distances are merely a part of every day life and kilometres travelled to reach good fishing territory are considered insignificant. In this case a round trip of 400km allowed them to reach a couple of “secret spots” along the Fitzroy River.

Such Kimberley terrain is considered a 4wd challenge in the dry season. On this particular trip the first rains of the wet fell making it a 4wd enthusiasts’ dream, adding another dimension to the whole adventure. Dry pindan turned to axel deep mud.

The onset of the wet is the time of seasonal change in the weather, which brings high humidity and a build up of massive cumulous thunderclouds. This is a very productive time for barra addicts. Barra are moving around in great numbers, and they are hungry. The shallow tidal waters of the Fitzroy’s river-mouth are one of the best places to find these glistening silver-bodied, red-eyed marvels. The group needed no further motivation to reach the water.

They arrived at the camp base after hours of arduous driving. The party was made up of three girls and two guys and the inevitable challenge was on for who would fare best, males versus females.

Trolling along a quiet river in a tinnie sounds like a sedate sort of relaxing stress-free pastime, but not on the Fitzroy at the end of the dry! Chasing barra means dragging your tinnie through mud and slush to win the reward of reaching another pool, upstream or downstream, or along another branch of the waterway. Exhausting work, definitely not for the faint-hearted. Every pool is a beckoning stretch of habitat, murky, secretive and possibly holding that champion fish. Caution is also needed as these waters hold big snappy handbags (crocs).

Lures were the chosen method of attraction rigged up on 6kilo line with shimano calcutta baitcasters. At other times of year, when Barra are not so easily guaranteed to be feeding, live bait is best used such as poddy mullet.

First success went to the women not long after the first line had been wet. Tough luck fellas, it’s not just brawn that wins this contest! Men can flounder through ankle deep mud to the next pool faster than women, but maybe the quieter approach pays off in the long run. Barra began gulping the irresistible deep diving Halco lures as soon as the tide began to rise, or was it when the cloud cover was at its darkest, or when the thunder-clouds made the electrical activity almost palpable? Everyone has their own theories, in the mean time the fish just keep biting!

Deb landed a 75cm beauty after an incredible aerial display. This one was kept for the pan. Pam Blatchford landed the quietest fish that they were sure had never been challenged before. It simply hooked up to the lure and proceeded to swim towards the landing net.

Meanwhile the guys were reeling in the their fair share also. It soon became obvious that there was going to be more fish aboard than the group could eat. Now the “sport” really began: catch and release.

After some spectacular displays of the acrobatic feats so beloved of the art of barra fishing, the end of the day approached and it was time to return across the delta to camp. The orders for last casts went out and Pam’s fifteen year old daughter Deena hooked up to the prize fish of the day: a ninety-nine centimetre horse. Whilst this was the champion catch of the day, Deena recognised it as a breeder and happily released the fish back to it’s breeding grounds.

Maybe it’s the extra effort and discomfort of struggling against the elements of stifling humid weather, ravenous flies and mozzies, spooky muddy rivers, but there is undeniably something special about landing one of the fabled barramundi.

Back on shore that evening some other fellas at a neighbouring camp came to compare notes. They were distinctly unimpressed by the reality of being out-fished by a mob of females. The long and the short of that story was that the men carefully warned the ladies that a yearling steer had been dragged into the river just downstream from the camp, obviously the local saltwater crocs were hungry and active, and it would be much safer back in Broome! Sorry fellas, pull the other leg!

Next morning the whole party moved upstream beyond the tidal reaches to indulge in another delight of northern rivers, the local crustacean called cherubin. But maybe that’s another whole story best saved for another day.