Kurrimine Beach is indeed a fishing village. You may recall that on our first visit here we were completely gobsmacked by the numbers of tractors we found sitting in front yards. Whilst I and others have had some success off the beach and fishing the nearby Maria Creek, the real action here is at sea.
And during this stay I cracked the jackpot.....an invitation to join the park owner, Marcus, and others chasing mackerel off the coast. Yippee!!
The park shark cat is a serious craft. Even using the tractor, it can only be launched from the main town boat ramp at high tide. The alternative is to moor off the beach and wade aboard, which is exactly what we did on our first trip.
We were soon stowed and away. With Gordon (the Canadian!) and another park resident, Ray, taking up the stern seat, the two 115 horsepower motors pushed us out towards the fishing grounds at a good 30 knots.
As you can see, it was a terrible day....not! Calm, bright blue seas, a mere puff of breeze, the warmth of the tropics in the air and the prospect of some fine mackerel.....it really doesn't get much better than this (if you like to fish that is).
We were on the 'inshore' grounds in no time. where the 'The Canadian' did the honours with the anchor.
And we were not alone. Other hopefuls were dotted all around us. We were one of fifty-two boats plying this patch.
I was new to the mackerel game. Fortunately Marcus had rods and rigs at the ready and we were soon into it. Tradition has it that Gordon catches the first fish, and despite the ragging he received, he did manage to maintain his record. I have to admit it took me a while to really get the feel of the rig and the bites of these good fighting fish, but once I did it was on. Anyone who suggests that there is nothing competitive about four blokes in a boat on a good fishing ground has never done it!
We had a very good morning. This is about half the catch. These spotted mackerel are not quite of the eating standard of their 'spanish' cousins, but provide a very acceptable meal nevertheless, and are great fun to catch.
Modesty forbids any comment about who eventually hooked the most fish, seven to be precise....to hell with modesty...it was yours truly, as if you hadn't guessed. We bagged out inside three hours. What a great morning.
Once back at the mooring the park tinnie and quad bike were put to very good use transferring our kit and our catch back to the park
where we gathered for a moment or two of self-congratulation (others in the park soon came out to check the results of our venture)
before the serious business of taking off the fillets and skinning them began.
But before this was completed, there was the obligatory pose for the camera. Who's a very happy lad then?
Fishing with new mates can be a challenge. Had I pulled my weight? Were the jokes actually funny? Had I done enough to be invited again?
The answer came within a week. Marcus and Gordon wandered over to our site during happy hour to ask Liz if she could spare me for a night.....it was on....an overnight trip out beyond the reef chasing big fish. "Can I spare him....take him with my blessing", was her reply. "I'd love a night on my own to do exactly what I like". I did suggest her answer had been a little too quick and much too direct, but she knew as well as I that nothing would have stopped me going.
Our planned 1600 hour departure coincided with a low tide, so again 'The Cat' was moored off the beach. And again the park tinnie was hauled out of the shed, hooked up to the quad bike
and again we waded and 'tinnied' our kit aboard.
On this occasion we were joined by Troy, a local marine mechanic, who is, apart from being a damn good bloke, a real expert in these waters. Marcus was happy to let him take us out to our first drop, almost 50 nautical miles off-shore.....and we were all happy to let him to the anchor work!
On this trip we were joined by Corey in his boat on a ground inside the expanse of Potters Reef where coral trout were the target species.
To my great chagrin we had no luck with these, despite spending some time peering at the echo sounder and dropping on a very likely looking reef bottom. Here I learnt that these chaps are fishermen after my own heart......if a drop does not produce within a reasonable period, it it time to move.
We did just that after an unproductive hour or so, and here, for me at least, the real adventure began. We steamed out past the end of the reef into the open Coral Sea. It was amazing to see how quickly the sea state changed once we left the lee side of the reef.
At this point I must make an editorial comment and provide an explanation. When Liz downloads the plethora of photos I have invariably taken (from our computer to the separate hard drive), she edits according to her taste. This often does not coincide with mine, as I have mentioned previously. After we were hacked, and lost all that was stored on the computer files, I have to make do with what she has retained on the independent hard drive. The upshot is that I have but a scant pictorial record of our exploits far out at sea.
We anchored up on what Troy knew to be a good ground for reef fish, and, as darkness descended (and believe me, out here it is pitch black) our lines were set and the waiting game began. There were big eskies to be filled.
And out here the swell was unrelenting. Normally a boat like ours would lie on the anchor with its head to the sea. This results in a pitching motion, but not much else. But on these grounds the southerly current streaming past the outer side of the reef hauled us beam on to the sea. With our twin hulls being assaulted by the passing swells and chop, this resulted in a constant jarring jolting from side to side. Maintaining good fishing balance was a challenge to say the least.
But we were here to do a job, and within a few minutes Gordon did it again....only a sweetlip, but it was a start, and his reputation was intact, which he foolishly reminded us. Well, for me that was it....the race was on.
I won't bore you with a 'blow by blow'. Suffice to say, whilst all the others did put their heads down for a few hours, I was determined to make the most of this opportunity. I fished all through the night, jammed hard against the gunwale to counter the movement of the boat and doing my best to 'get the feel' of what was, for me, another completely new form of fishing.
It took a while, but then success. Sweetlip, red throat emperor, slatey bream and a good sized nannygai came aboard in a steady stream, but not without some seriously hard work to haul them up from the depths. But the real prize continued to elude us, a 'big red', the renowned and highly sought after red emperor. Apart from its spectacular appearance, these fish are second only to coral trout as an eating fish.
At about 0230 hours, just as I was thinking I might grab forty winks like everyone else, perseverance was rewarded.....the rod jumped in my hands and as I struck I though I had hooked the reef. That was the start of a twenty minute fight with what felt like a sodden sack of cement. I was just about at the end of my tether by the time 'we saw colour'.
Apart from the combined weight of the fish and the sinkers, these big reds have a habit of opening their huge mouths as they are (understandably) trying to get off the hook, so add the weight of a great gob full of seawater to the total being heaved up from the bottom.
Every one stirred into action. Marcus grabbed the gaff and struck as I finally brought the fish to the surface next to the boat. It was a whopper. And then disaster struck.....in the form of a bloody great shark. In a swirling flurry of water my prized 'red' became a meal for this prowling predator.....all that came aboard on the end of the gaff was its head.
And it was a huge head at that! All on board with experience in these matters agreed this had been a monster of a red emperor. You might just imagine how I felt. After a twenty minute battle all I had done was feed a bloody shark. A sympathetic (and expectant) hush fell over the boat as I flopped onto a fishing box, rod in hand, completely buggered, with nothing but a head on the end of the line.
What could I do? I started laughing and we all fell about lamenting the fortunes of fishing the reef. The boys told me later that they had never seen such a crestfallen face in their lives and had been preparing to run for cover if I had vented my rage and frustration in the usual manner.
After a ten minute spell, I decided that the reds were there and just became more determined. Down went another baited hook and half an hour later.......
.......SUCCESS!!! This one did make it over the side intact.... and it remained the only red caught on the trip. I was a very,very happy camper.
At 0400 hours it was time to weigh anchor and make the one and a half hour passage back to shore in time to catch the morning high tide which would enable us to retrieve the boat. This had been a night I'll never forget.
A couple of hours kip and it was time to get on with cleaning the catch. We decided to set up under a makeshift awning by the camp kitchen. This was going to take a while.
Out they came.
There were some very good fish here.
After the obligatory 'bragging rights' photo
it was down to business. Marcus is a dab hand indeed with his large filleting knife
and Troy is no slouch either. I was more than happy to have him take the fillets off my 'big red'.
Keen to pull my weight, I had a crack at some of the lesser fish and quickly discovered that the skill needed to deal effectively with these is quite different from that required to manage whiting and garfish! What a night it had been. As the filleting proceeded the word soon spread.....park residents came and went with their plastic bags.....there were very few in the park who did not have a feed of fresh fish that evening!
And this was not the end of it. A week or so later we took on the mackerel again on another inshore ground.
This time the tide was right for a launch from the main town ramp. The water was up to the required height of the second marker pole.
This morning was even better than the first.....tropical Far North Queensland at its absolute best.
We made our way speedily to the nearby small islands a few miles offshore around which large spanish mackerel, the prized 'spaniards', were known to lurk, but after an hour trolling back and forth with nothing to show for it,
we settled in on a 'spotties' ground in the hope that we could at least come home with another feed of the smaller spotted mackerel. Needless to say Gordon was the first to drop a line....he was under pressure to maintain his 'first fish' status....and blow me if he didn't manage it!
But that was his only moment of glory!! Guess who 'rang' the boat again? We managed a good box of fish and were just about to up anchor when a reel screamed. It was Marcus' rod, but he was busy...."Grab that will you Pete". "No worries, Marcus".
Wow, what luck.....fifteen minutes later and I had landed another of my 'bucket list' fish, a giant trevally, universally known as 'GTs'.
They are not the finest of eating fish, but that was the least of my concerns. After watching so many fishing shows on which lucky punters had been hauling these good fighting fish (believe me, they fight) from the depths, I had finally managed one of my own.
In my next we all get silly again with more fun in the camp kitchen.
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