# NSW - Dalmeny Dreamtime



## Ado (Mar 31, 2008)

I had vowed to make up for the lost income from moving. The weather had been empathetic by inflicting constant rain and 5m swells to the point where the local beaches had disappeared out to sea. The rest of the local community were forced to do the opposite. I was no exception.

But last week was different, oh so different. The rain had made way for a sunshine so bright and air so clear that Montague Island looked but a before breakfast paddle away. The swell had dropped from impossibly intimidating to toddler paddling. The wind had transformed from buster to busted, with the occasional offshore zephyr to keep the limited swell smooth and clear. Thursday produced a swell of 10 inches, no wind and a sea calm that was broken only by chomping tuna, visible a few kms out to sea, and the fishing boats that chased them at a speed normally reserved for skiing lakes.

I built sand castles.

Friday dawned as a temptress more irresistible than Thursday. My 2yo was in day care and I was about to embark on writing a sewage treatment plant optimisation report. What was wrong with me? It was summer in July and I was hibernating. Sanity prevailed.

My recent move to the coast had left me less prepared for action than usual. I had to find stuff, rig stuff, change spools and generally get agitated by a further delay to the deepening desire to fish. It was 11am before I could launch. The Dalmeny ramp still looked like a lake.










The visibility resembled the Whitsundays.










I paddled from the natural harbour. The sounder belied my eyes and said 8m. I headed for the reef immediately to the North, with a Squidgy fish in tow and a Gulp sand worm for presentation. The reef varied from 5m to 10m. The sounder showed fewer fish symbols than my eyes could witness first hand. They were too deep and therefore small to identify (perhaps Luderick) but clarity was no excuse. I wondered at the liquid life going about its business five fathoms below. Who needs a glass bottomed boat when all the ocean is glass.

Unfortunately, whatever it was, living out the life aquatic, it didn't want to play. I had been told that flathead abounded parallel to the beaches, but I was yet to experience this. This was mostly because I find it hard to fish in a desert of sand when the reefs seem so full of life. Nevertheless I decided to head south towards Kianga and see if my gulps could dig up a feed.

I dragged a HB behind me as I went, but couldn't resist tossing a 5 inch Gulp jerk shad at all reefy parts I passed. The point south of the launch tramp stirred some interest. I lost a tail or two, then a hookup soon lost. It was probably a Wrasse, but became a Snapper as soon as it was dropped. Never mind. Even a doughnut couldn't spoil the most idyllic day I'd ever spent on the ocean.

I headed further south towards the (now) fabled flathead grounds. I was once again torn from my path towards the reefy grounds south of Josh's beach. The beach itself was nothing but reef courtesy of the storm surges that now seemed an impossible memory. There were some locals at the whale watching platform above me. I knew they wished they were me.

I swapped the hard body for a squidgy fish on the 4kg outfit, letting it bounce along the reef behind me. I tossed my satay chicken gulp jerk shad inshore as I let the drift define my destiny. A few pecks indicated another Wrasse. I truck and was rewarded with my second hookup on the day. It felt of little stature. That still wouldn't stop it from converting to a Snapper if lost. Instead it converted to a pelagic, as it sailed past the yak and just kept going. The drift helped me to gain some line before it started circling directly below. My 2kg outfit could do little to change its mind. I could see it many metres below me each time it circled. It was a Tailor &#8230; then a Stripey &#8230; then a Slimey &#8230; then a Salmon. A salmon it remained, though it stayed deep like a rat King. I'm amazed by how differently Salmon fight from a kayak than the aerial displays and screaming runs they produce from the beach or rocks.

It was finally netted. My family had been complaining about the lack of fresh fish, so it was destined for the table, via the bucket in the front hatch of the Adventure. Not for the last time this day, I was able to negotiate the sphincter puckering manoeuvre to the front hatch and back again.










My supply of satay chicken depleted, I thew on a less appetising camo jerk shad, while I opened the centre hatch to search for a more nuclear variety. With the hatch open, my plastics wallet draped across my lap, and a packet of Pogys in my teeth, another salmon tore off with my aforementioned unpalatable camo. I was 10m from the rocks. It was 8m closer. Hatch open and thigh movement restricted by an overladen wallet of smelly plastic, I peddled away from danger with the salmon doing backflips behind me. I almost retired my 1500 Sedona a few months back as being unsalvageably corroded. It was now singing for its supper, well worthy of its salvation. Alas, I was not, and the line went slack before I could organise the cockpit.

The Camo was still whole, so the Pogys were stowed for imminent use. I did a U-turn and headed back in. Within a few metres, I saw the school pass under me, so I flicked the gulp back into there path. It was snaffled as soon as it touched the water and the reel was screaming once more. Unfortunately I had neglected to recognise a hot bight when it slapped me in the face. My 4kg outfit was still trailing out the back, which soon became the front as the fish turned me before I could turn it. Another Salmon was lost to disorganisation.

I am nothing if not a slow learner, and reeled in the 4kg outfit to concentrate on the flick stick. Mirage engaged, I headed off again in search of the school. It once again passed under me, this time from bow to stern. I flicked the gulp blindly behind me and hooked up immediately. After a 10 minute battle I was able to secure dinner for the family.










But it was far from over. The next half hour saw me chasing, sighting, flicking, setting and pumping my arms to weariness. I was laughing out loud where no-one could hear. Salmon insanity had struck in all its glory. I even paused to get a shot of the rod bend seen all too often in Queensland trip reports. Only forum readers will ever know it was a whiting stick.










The last two measured 50cm, shy of my PB, but half a metre of pelagic is nothing to sneeze at. Then again, I never think of unclogging my nostrils at smaller fish either. All were retained to be properly processed and frozen, a testament to my hunter/provider status. This fell short of bleeding them however. I am willing to sacrifice some flavour to avoid my own flavour being the subject of judgment.










By 2pm I was heading back to the ramp. My Pogys were untouched, my brag mat was filled to overflowing, as were my lungs, my spirit and affections for this unspoilt section of coast that I now call home.










Now if I can just find a way of turning those Wrasse into the Snapper that they (and I) always wanted them to be.


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## paffoh (Aug 24, 2006)

Brilliant, just a top read!

Well done


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## 4weightfanatic (May 19, 2011)

Love the lyrical waxing Ado great read and awesome report. When the sambos are on it takes alot to beat that fun especially on light gear - geez I miss them down in SA. I'd love to get down to the Goldy and chase that run but knowing my luck it'll be "should have been here yesterday". A good candidate for the Trip Report competition I reckon. Well done PAT.


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## GT79 (Mar 4, 2011)

A great day and a great read, thanks for taking the time to share.

GT79


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## blueyak (Jan 20, 2009)

Great report. 
I'm so jealous of where you live. It's my favourite stretch of coastline.
The snapper will surely come.


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## bushwoodboy (Oct 5, 2006)

Great report Ado.
That sure looks like a little piece of paradise you've moved to.
Congratulations.

Cheers Mal.


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## southcoastmatty (Jan 21, 2009)

Welcome Ado to gorgeous stretches of empty coast and lakes, though the locals will still complain about the tourorists :? 
Nice work on the salmon.
scm


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## koich (Jul 25, 2007)

Nice.

Nice.


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## simonfrancis (Oct 10, 2010)

Cracking read mate, and yes, very jealous of where you now call home. I get down there about a dozen times a year, and look forward to reading more of your local reports! Can I ask how you cooked the salmon? I have tried numerous methods and find they are only palatable when turned into fish cakes and drowned in Rosella !


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## shabby (Mar 24, 2011)

Good job Ado, sounds like you had fun. Good to see more salmon popping up very jealous that they wern't on my table hopefully this weekend!

Keep em' coming mate!


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## Ado (Mar 31, 2008)

Defrosted Salmon was consumed by my daughter and me tonight. I can confirm success, with tasty flakes of firm flesh. Zero mush.

The procedure I used (which I refine each time) is:

* I did not bleed as this is a rule of mine when on the ocean. I don't like risking unwanted toothy visitors. I would bleed in a lake or estuary.

* Gut, head, fillet and skin. Relatively easy.

* Latest refinement 1: Cut each fillet in two lengthways. Slice off as much of the red meat below the skin as possible (not easy). Sharp knife would have been handy.

* Latest refinement 2: Wash only in salt water and leave a splash of salt water in the bucket after. The fillets will shrink slightly and dispel water. NEVER let fresh water touch the flesh before or after freezing. This worked really well and I could hardly tell that the fillets had been frozen.

* Defrost, smother in the juice of one lemon for further toughening. Add pepper and some soft dairy spread just before cooking.

* Grill under high heat for about 5 mins per side. They are grey when cooked (whiter if bled), but firm and tasty.

Given the success of the process, I am willing to try to batter the next set of fillets (for the kiddies).


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