Giant Winter Cod

First of all, ‘I take my hat off’ to anyone who has dragged themselves out of a nice warm bed at some ridiculously early hour to go fishing. I congratulate you because I too feel your pain. When you are addicted to fishing it’s not as though we have a choice right? Surely you can see the bind we are in? In my case my addiction to the big green fish (Murray Cod) had me drive several hundred kilometers to a place where, like on The Game of Thrones- “WINTER IS COMING.”

The cod tend to be most active at the bookends of the day so 4am to 7am and again at 4pm to 7pm tend to be the best bite times. Awaking to a 4am alarm when temperatures are minus 4 degrees celsius and dragging oneself out of bed is no easy feat. Speaking of feet, if you happen to have left your shoes outside the tent they should be nicely frozen solid along with the car, the boat and and all your tackle (hopefully not the wedding tackle). Once in the boat and on the water as you are speeding into the black abyss your ears will soon match your frozen shoes.

But the challenge has only just begun. In the pitch blackness and the sub zero temperatures you soon discover that cod fishing is ‘a game of one thousand casts.’ This basically means that perhaps every thousand casts you might expect to catch a fish. After many years cod fishing, I think that estimate is sometimes a little ambitious. But cast our lines out into the abyss we do. We cast and cast and cast and cast………..and with each retrieve we envisage a huge fish attacking our offering. Perhaps more often than not we go back to our tents empty handed. “Did you catch anything?” they ask. “Nope” you bluntly reply, “I think the barometer is too low” or “it’s the wrong moon phase.”

Later that day and then again the next morning you head out into the cold determined to catch the big one. You can’t give up now, you have driven too far, spent way too much time, money and planning this trip to simply stay in a warm bed. In fact the more time you spend chasing the fish, the more determined you become. It is an obsession now, you are thinking about it every minute of the day. Everyone else you speak to in the camp ground has caught fish. “So and so got a metery last night…… and two the day before. ” Their words are like poison to your ears.

108cm Copeton Cod

The next night you are sitting out there in the dark. You are retrieving what has been ‘the last cast’ (for the past 27 casts) and you are dreading heading back to camp where you will hear those spiteful words “did you catch anything,” when KERSPLASAAAAAASH!!!! the water explodes around the lure right in front of you and a massive piscatorial beast inhales your lure and heads for home. A small tight lipped “yep” is all that escapes your mouth as you struggle to perform a reality check on what just happened. After a few dogged runs the fish surfaces near the boat and you swiftly swim it to the net. As you try to lift the fish into the boat you realize the enormity of it’s bulk and prey the net doesn’t break before you boat the fish.

Once on the deck you gaze in utter amazement at the size and beauty of this mottled green thing. Lifting and holding a 25kg plus fish for a photo is not easy, but it is the happiest moment you have felt since the birth of you own children. All the effort has now paid off. All the time and money spent, all the blood sweat and tears, the 4am starts, the frozen shoes and testicles have all been worth it in the end. Now you can finally go back to camp with your head held high. This time you eagerly await those wonderful words “Did you catch anything?”

Later that night as you lay there in your bed with a huge feeling of satisfaction and a smile on your dial as you drift off to sleep, a small part of you knows that tomorrows another day and the addiction starts all over again.