Tusses Freestyle Warm Up friendly.

I'd been really looking forward to the Tusses warm up friendly for quite a while. These friendly get together club matches have a great vibe about them with anglers of all nationalities that love lure fishing coming together for a good time. The only fly in my ointment was the fact that nine days prior I'd had some long awaited carpel tunnel surgery on my right hand to cut the transverse carpel ligament and release the pressure on the median nerve. Thus I was left with a stitched up wound at the bottom of my right hand and the ligament that helps the thumbs movement severed. Prior to the event I had a little experiment with a super light lure rod and found that although I was able to fish I couldn't really cast as such. A second experiment with my left hand had me casting like a drunken toddler so I concluded that in the approaching match was going to be strictly limited to fishing under the rod tip dibbling style.

Luckily for me I was green lit to drive by the quack a few days prior to the event and after a wary drive through dense fog I arrived early to see plenty of competitors readying rods in the car park near the Greyhound pub at Hawksbury junction.

I think everyone had trepidations about the fishing as the recent wall to wall sunshine and high temperatures had probably had little effect on the water temps, so the fish would probably be quite cagey still. This was even worse for me given my limited range; I would be scrabbling around on the shallower shelf rather than being able to search out the deeper water. With this in mind I opted to travel out a bit to find a spot of unchallenged canal where I knew there was deeper water close in and things initially started very well when I hooked and landed a high scoring jack pike early in the match.

After that things went very sour for me. I was intermittently locating single fish that I was just about persuading to bite. The problem I was having was with my hand strapped up in a brace for protection I was just that bit too slow to connect with these very subtle fast hits. I missed or lost no less than ten small fish, most of which I felt vibrating for a moment before they just disappeared. Psychologically it was very damaging as I knew that in what was going to be a tight match I lost what could have been a metre of fish. Towards the end of the match I finally found a decent perch lingering in a bank side snag which tore so hard into the lure that even I wasn't going to miss it. At 29cm it was a very welcome addition to the score card.

My final hope lay in a bridge at the end of the stretch that I had been fishing. Most of the year you can pick one or two fish up around its deep structured margins and I had saved it deliberately till last just in case. My final half an hour saw me work every reachable inch of it again and again until finally I connected with a small zander which looked no bigger than 20cm when it came up to the surface and let go of the lure in one final insult.

Total = 79cm

Once back at the meet point it became evident things had been hard all round and most people had struggled to return any decent scores. Though a few anglers had done very well and reports of a big pike and a few decent zander helped make the difference between the top three and everyone else when the scores were tallied up.

1st Place = Stephen Coldicott 261cm + Biggest pike 79cm

2nd Place = Cautis Tiberius 215cm

3rd Place = Greg Bafia 132cm

Biggest zander = Salwomir Mikolajczak 55cm

Biggest perch = Daniel Everitt 29cm

I couldn't be to disappointed with how I'd done as things were really against me on this one with my hand not being one hundred percent. I was a little gutted that I didn't bank at least a few of those small fish to bulk up my score. Had I have been on point then I am sure I could have added close to a meter to my score which might have seen me possibly placing. It was however a nice surprise to get the prize for the largest perch and win a load of Realistic shad lures to try out before the next match.

At the end of the day though I had a great time as did everyone attending which I must say is down to David Warrens hard work organising the event, and I can't wait until the next open Tusses event in a month or so time when hopefully I will be able to cast further than my rod tip.

Last gasp success.

One of those days comes round every so often when with all experience and knowledge the fishing is just terrible. I had hit the tow path around midday in an area I knew held pike, perch and zander in range of sizes going from uh right through ahhhh. I had started in a spot that has produced some startling captures in the past and which is generally quite reliable, only to receive about as much attention as a white crayon. 

I worked that canal over like I have never worked anywhere before in my life. I was methodical and broke down every area I fished into zones and covered each with varying tactics. Lures were changed, line was scaled down and the variations of retrieve were just about incomprehensible, but still nothing could raise a take.

By two hours in I was dreaming about pole fishing and by four hours I had come to the conclusion that the only possible explanation was that a mass alien fish abduction had taken place. But we all know that isn't true and the fact was that the fish were just switched off or were at least switched off to what I was doing! It was a bit of a pisser really as this was really the only session I would get over the weekend and here I was with it dribbling away in what I thought was perfect conditions.

After working tight along the margins for what seemed like miles I resigned to give in and turned tail for the car. By the time I was in sight of the auto mobile the canal had began to look good again, but I just didn't have it in me to make any more casts. Instead I concluded to just tow a small orange paddle tail along the margin until I had to turn off to get to the car.

Lazily I tugged and dropped the lure backward and forward until I could see the path that lead me off the canal. I was somewhere between dreaming of mixed grills or beer when the line went solid. I swear I would have just yanked violently for the break if the line hadn't of surged off in the canal. Holy sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph it was a fish.. a wonderful slimy wriggling writhing fish. I was as gooey eyed as Gollum with a trout in his hands by the time it was middle cut, and then I got the most spectacular fight I have had in years.

The little jack went in acrobat mode and lunched itself from the water little a tarpon shaking its mouth violently from side to side. It had only just disappeared back into the water when it came cartwheeling out again. After shooting into the margin and me reeling down, it tail walked into a third jump projecting itself a good three feet out of the water. Bearing in mind this jack was little more than a couple of pounds it would not give up. Every time I got it near the net it shot off across the surface until the pressure of the line and clutch sent it into a little jump. After it nearly jumped onto the bank I made a daring scoop for my prize. It did go in the net but no net was going to hold this determined fellow. It only began trying to jump out of the net which resulted in me having to lift it from the water and keep it wrapped up until I could find my forceps.

I have to give this little fighter credit for being the most determined and hard fighting Jack I have ever seen. Though I think there might be a clue to why this fish was so eager to escape on its flank. Given that this fish is probably only a few years old, the scar two thirds of the way down it's body looks to me like it's guile and determination may have already got it out of a much bigger cannibal pikes mouth some time not so long ago. 

Maybe it thought it had been got again and thats was the reason for it's very impressive display or maybe it was just a particularly spirited young jack. Either way I don't mind because it absolutely made my day with its antics and was the perfect way to end a generally poor session.