A cool breezy morning greeted us at the boat ramp at Patonga where 12 Fly Rodders and six boats were readied for the morning’s fishing.

The southerly swell was making it difficult to venture beyond the heads so most of us opted to head upstream to Cowan Creek. With the wind in our faces and cutting straight through our jackets, we tried to make the trip as quickly as possible. Nevertheless, I could hear John’s teeth chattering over the motor as we idled up the creek seeking fishy looking areas.

After checking in with Dave, Ross and Browny only to find very little activity, we decided to moor at the mouth of the creek and try burleying up some action. Apart from the fact that there wasn’t much else going on, it gave us the chance to sit in the sun and warm up. For 30 minutes we burleyed, and during that time we saw not one fish. No bait fish, nothing. Obviously the fish were still warm in their beds (like we should have been).

Enough of this. Where were the fish? Not here, obviously. Who’s idea was this anyway? I figured we try our luck out at the mouth of Broken Bay. What’s the worst that could happen? Spend the rest of the morning throwing up? And where was Big Bob?

Another flying run downstream. At least this time the wind was at our backs. Weaving through the flotilla of boats at Flint and Steel we saw little activity to raise our hopes. We headed on past Pittwater to see just how big the swell was running. From the waves crashing at Barranjoey, it was big. And speaking of big, here was Bob. He and John Humphries had tried Pittwater, with about as much success as the rest of us had upstream.

After a short discussion, we decided to pool our burley resources and moor just inside the breaking waves at Barranjoey. Here we burleyed up, and using bread flies, tried for some rocky favourites such as drummer and luderick. The wind was playing havoc with our back casts. Even double hauling was doing little to help. But we managed to get our flies in near the rocks on the odd occasion.

We had a few hits on the flies, but only one solid hook-up. A small trevally was hungry enough to take my bread fly and before John had time to grab the net I swung it into the boat.

Hamish and Matt soon cruised past to see how we were going. They had little success either and after taking a look around the point, headed off in search of more likely places. It wasn’t long after that our burley ran out, and with it so did our patience with the wind. Once again the motor kicked into life and we made the quick journey back to the ramp.

Not the most productive of trips, but what better way to spend the morning. Actually, I can think of a few. And they all involve a warm bed and sleep.