My story of my newly formed addiction to the pursuit of Bass.

I have always enjoyed fishing. It started at a young age of 10.  I come from a dedicated bitza fishing family. I have fond memories of fishing with my family up and around the Taree / Manning areas and on holidays around Foster and also the break wall at Nambucca Heads. But  I had never really been dedicated to the sport. I suppose you could call me a Bitza Fisherman.  With bitza this fishing tackle and bitza that. My arsenal of equipment includes outside bottom bouncing equipment, estuary flathead and bream rigs to trout lures and beach fishing equipment. I have never really dedicated myself to a specific fishing code. Up until now… I’m now an addict.

I have always been an outdoors person, but recent years have seen me working longer hours, which leave less time for getting away. I needed an escape. A few years back I took the plunge and purchased my first residence with my lovely understanding wife Michelle. Once we had settled in the outer North Western region of Sydney I had the thought of trying to find a new Outdoors recreation that would recharge my drained working energies, after taking charge of a family canoe which had sat for years in the under house storage area of my parents house. I dusted off the cobwebs and convinced a similarly drained friend to partake in a fishing adventure in my local region. 

So one weekend I started my pilgrimage to chase Bass near another mates home on Cattai Creek, we set out what we thought was early for fishing and tried to judge what the tide would be. We hit Cattai on a Saturday morning, unfortunately we were hoping that the duck weed that we saw all around where we put in would not be as thick all the way up and down the river. We were pumped and nothing could dampen our adventure. So we started by heading upstream away from the main river trying to cast as close to the bank as possible and not over trees. We were getting fairly frustrated, tree’s, branches, weeping willows and duck weed were all working against us, not to mention my first attempt to use braid line, without a trace. After about 2 hours of frustration with fighting the fishing elements I finally had success, right up under a weeping willow, where the duck weed couldn’t get to, I some how fluked a perfect cast into a hollow space, and with a slightly rushed take up of loose line I started to work my lure. Within a few seconds BANG something hit my lure. Keep the pressure on!!!, gentle gentle, is the drag correct?? where’s the net?? quick the fish is going towards the weed…. What is it?? Should I let it run more, or do I muscle it in. Quick get the net…. Swim it in…. no scoop it up… YES, got it. What is it? Is it a Bass or is it a Estuary Perch.. Naaa that looks like a dirty bream, do Bream live in here? O well it’s a nice fish. Get the camera out I need a photo of this one. Click, click click. And now let it go. See ya fish thanks for coming. Also tell your Grandad that those mean guys up there would like to see him… 

To humour my fishing buddy for no sizable catches worth mentioning from this outing I added a little foreign species to the backdrop of his picture. 

Whenever I start a new religion I need to research and teach myself as much as possible so that I can follow my faith to the correct guidelines and etiquette needed to be politically correct and hopefully make some sort of impact on my experience and enjoyment of my new found passion. 

I started an Internet search to find a club to enlighten me on my quest for greater knowledge. Off to my favourite fishing web sites, click on the links to clubs and there it was a club meeting less than 30 minutes drive from my abode. They have regular meetings in a watering hole, which serves cold beer. They partake in regular competitions. Perfect. Must get along and join. Web site looks a little dated though. Oh well maybe my skills in the advertising industry might be able to help them with there Internet presence. I have always wanted to design a web site, but haven’t had the reason to achieve it.
So off I went to the Hawkesbury Nepean Bass Anglers Association Club. 7pm on the Third Tuesday of the calendar month. Meeting at the Windsor Bowling club.

Friendly bunch of people, jovial and passionate about Bass. Yep I’ve found my club. 

The following 6 months was a whirlwind of where to go what to use and how to do it. Everyone has their favourite lures and locations. I deciphered my favourites out of the knowledge I’d received, and on numerous occasions I dragged various friends along Bass fishing in my canoe. 

Majority of the time I took a mate Muzza on as many fishing adventure as possible into our busy lives. Mostly in involved 4am starts on Sunday mornings, and travelling to one of my recently discovered fishing spots. Launching the canoe in the dark and casting hundreds of lures at carefully chosen targets, but mostly ending up in trees or over branches. 

In the beginning our fishing trips didn’t always produce fish, but majority of the time we would at least catch a fish each. My best run is currently 3x300+ fish from 3 casts at a secret location. Biggest being one of my first Bass at 370mm.

But at the end of my fishing day I don’t care too much if I have not landed my dream fish, at least I’m not in my office, I’m alive and breathing and spending quality time in a Blissfully beautiful nature filled environment away from the troubles of the world. With great friends. 

Dean was the only one mad enough to attempt the rapids in a canoe with me, but as it turns out it’s the still water you have to watch out for. So far only one wet experience. Thanks Dean. But this is to be expected. P.S. Mobile phones are NOT waterproof. 

But hopefully this new Bass season will see a 400mm specimen on my line. 

So far this current season my mate Muzza has equalled my last year’s fish at 370mm.

He nearly missed the recorded photo as I was the only one with a camera that day and needed to question him and his fishing trip memory, with a little Photoshop work and fish reduction then enlargement I had him questioning his own memory of his trophy.