Making time to soak a line was never an issue when I lived right on the coast and in some fairly fish-fertile country. Life in the outer suburbs of Adelaide is a converse story. A ten minute trek nowadays gets me to K Mart or Hungry Jacks and the only salt is on the chips. Thankfully, there are still some low-fuss ways to get a quality fishing fix within relatively close reach of the city.
It was early autumn when I got in touch with Mark Wynbergen of Reef Encounters Fish and Dive Charters. As you can probably gather by the name of his operation, bottom-bashing reefs and drift grounds is the gist of what he does, and does well. Mark operates out of Pondalowie Bay, right at the base of Yorke Peninsula, and had popped the question of a possible day out a while
back. With an almost idle high front situated over SA, the time was right to respond to the offer. Mark had a slim opening, not three days away from when I replied, and said it was a case of now or never in the short term. No need for a second invitation, as to quote a repulsively sweet movie line, “You had me at hello.”
While around a three-and-a-half hour drive away, pulling off a last-minute charter to Yorke Peninsula required a little organisation after an initial bit of task-shuffling to create time, where there wasn’t any. Tossing together some clothes and eskies, then swinging by the tackle store on the way out of the city to get some basic terminal gear, was about the extent of effort required. Mark supplies
accommodation, breakfast and a counter meal as part of his available packages – reducing the bother considerably.
Mate Ben Knaggs, who was joining me on the trip, was primed like I was to fish some new turf which made the drive go fast. Reaching the entrance to Innes National Park it was good to see some greenery at last after a patchwork of barren farming paddocks. Things started to feel more uncivilised and fishy.
In almost total darkness Pondalowie Bay wasn’t that hard to find, and neither was Mark’s Shack. We were greeted by friends of his who were joining us in the boat the following day. They had enjoyed a day on the bay mingling with the local mullet, which were running hot.
After a run of some of the mildest autumn weather possible, we were dead-set unlucky to cop the blustery conditions that sprung up not long after dark, creating some concern. A classic case of “should have been here yesterday” when there was no wind or chop at all apparently. A catch phrase that seems to
apply to many of my charter trips!
An impressive array of fishy photos plastered on the shack wall were not hard to look at, and made a fair conversation starter. Massive morwong, snapper, sharks and nannygai and even a few locally taken mulloway were only part of the display. All top stuff that got
the mind spinning with possibilities for our one-day effort.
As the generator started spluttering and sounding like it had been smoking 60 a day for the last fifty years, the decision was made to let it run out of fuel in anticipation of sleep and making the fishing come quicker.
A big, old buck roo standing next to the shack at first light cast a shadow as long as a gum tree and was happily snooping about without fear. I walked past him and over the crest of a nearby hill to get my first look at Pondalowie Bay, which revealed moored boats dotting the calm bay waters.
The bay itself is a sheltered harbour, with the occasionally wild outside waters tamed by North, Middle and South Islets, which are basically three smallish islands that almost enclose the bay. A fairly mild-mannered, sweeping beach rims the shoreline.
Skipper Mark lives nearby at Marion Bay and showed up at 8am. With gear loaded into a tinny, we launched off the nearby beach and were ferried out to his much more spacious 27’ flybridge cat, which we were informed could hit 38 knots on a calm day. It was more than spacious and completely walk-around, so we weren’t shoulder to shoulder.
Aiming almost directly at Wedge Island around 30 kays away, we bashed our way through some seriously corrugated ocean, before settling over a reef in 30-40 metres of water, still a reasonable way off the hazy shape of Wedge. Mark occasionally fishes around the island when weather permits, although he admitted that half the time there’s no need to travel that far to get boat limits of snapper and nannygai.
The strength of the wind became apparent as soon as the motors were cut and immediately any drift fishing for the day was ruled out. There was just enough tide to hold us side on to the choppy seas, which slapped us around making things uncomfortable, especially for the two young guys we had aboard. Stewie and his wife, who were staying with us in the shack, had booked the trip for their keen fishing son’s birthday. When the young fella started spewing barely 10 minutes after
anchoring up, I bet he’d put in an order for a Sony PlayStation for next year. His brother soon went pale-faced and joined him in the cabin for a snooze. You’d have to be a cold person not to feel some sympathy for them, but luckily they got colour back later in the day and even caught a few nice fish between them.
Early on things started off slowly. We shifted a couple of times without result and moved in close near West Cape to escape the winds. A smart shift that got the scoreboard ticking over in more pleasant seas. Mark was first in, getting stretched like a wire by a solid snapper around the 10-pound mark. A nice fish, which he soon followed up with another of similar size. This is what happens when you let the skipper slip a line for a change!
I was soon tight to a five-kilo red as braid sped off the overhead. Relentless head-shaking and short and sharp runs are snapper antics which
are hard to weary of, and this fish had the package. The rest of the guys soon started to get into legal ruggers around the 42cm size. With a few people fishing, the catch stacked up in no time at all.
Frustratingly though, as fast as the action had picked up, it slowed down again. As the saying goes thought, it takes one mighty big wheel not to come back around. Another shift was needed and things improved instantly.
One serious harlequin fish and a nannygai pounced onto my squid baits first drop on the new reef. As usual the harley lived up to its poor, sack of poop fighting reputation which involves providing a heap of dead weight, but hardly a twitch except for the odd head-shake. You can tell they’re made for short bursts of speed and prefer to sit in a reefy hole and poke the boofhead out, snapping up any passer-bys. Their mega hollow mouth, broad gripping fangs and closely spaced eyes on the peak of their head are undeniable proof of this. Because they’re slow moving, the harlequin has very little blood in the flesh, making them extremely mild eating, which compensates well for their lack of fighting prowess.
Keeper snapper, mostly straddling the legal length of 38cm, were hitting the deck at a regular pace for the next few hours. More than the odd nannygai surfaced as well. Mark said that clients of his had boated
some genuine east coast nannygai not that long ago, which lacked the white lateral stripe of the southern variety. This gnaws viciously at the roots of convention, as you hardly hear of them taken down here. They weren’t tiny things either.
Because we were fishing closer in than what was considered normal to Mark due to the conditions, we had to shift often to locate the snapper. Sure enough, move after move put us on a fresh bunch of hungry pinkies. We had to put up with some ravenous leatherjackets which were thick and as annoying as ever. Out of deep water a jacket hooked in the bum can sometimes be mistaken for a better fish. God only knows how many hooks we lost to them.
All up, by the end of the day we had more than enough fish on ice to turn a frown. After what was a slowish day according to Mark, the silvers, reds and pinks managed to dominate the browns in the fish box which is a pleasing sight. Casting my mind back to those big fish photos in the shack, there is more than enough incentive right there to come back and try for Samson fish and morwong, and if nothing else, to escape from the city for a few days. A good enough reason on its own!
Mark Wynbergen can be contacted on mobile 0407 609 988, or Marion Bay (08) 8854 4102
