With a very good turn out for the trip this month it was a shame to see the lake looking so poor. Our first view of the St Clair from the road winding up its eastern shore was one of very muddy-looking yellow water, but it wasn't long before we realised the yellow colouring was in fact an algal bloom of lake-wide proportions. Murray my co-fisher was hoping to bag his first fish on fly this trip, and with two days to do it we originally figured his chances were pretty good. However, now my confidence waned.

We pulled into the camping ground mid afternoon with Dave Witham behind us. Ken, Pete Fere and Col Breese had arrived the day before and had set up camp down near the water's edge. With them were Stickerman and Rob Harwood who had arrived earlier and were now in the process of launching their boat. At least the water level was up enough to allow bank launching rather than using the boat ramp. Ken's report on fishing (with lures) the previous day was not encouraging at all and he warned we may not even catch a bass on fly this weekend.

By the time the sun was nearing the horizon, we had finished dinner and prepared ourselves for a late fish. Five boats and one canoe set out (Browny and his son Jake, and Wozza and his son James had arrived not long after the rest of us) to try the upper reaches of the lake where the algae wasn't so bad. Murray and I headed straight across to the far side of the lake opposite the camp ground and thought we may as well start in one of the small bays to try our luck. Casting anything but a black fly seemed useless as they quickly disappeared into the murky water. Murray tied on a black and red yabby pattern while I tried a black and purple bass vampire with a little sparkle flash and a gold spinner blade. Within a few casts I knew I had made the right choice and we boated our first bass of about 20cm. Murray had a couple of possible hits on his, but nothing more. As we moved out of the bay and around the point towards the next one I picked up my second small bass. The sun was getting very low by now and as it sunk below the horizon I managed a third small bass. We continued to fish on until 9.30pm before heading back to camp where, over a glass of red we heard stories of a few more bass caught.

An early start the next morning saw us slowly weaving our way between the sunken timber by spotlight. We chose a small bay to start in on the eastern side of the lake, which seemed a vast improvement on the previous evening's location in that the water was a bit clearer and there was no thick yellow scum on the surface. At the head of the bay was a narrow inlet with plenty of drowned thistles and weed. As we worked our way closer to this area Murray hooked up on his first fish ever on fly - a small bass. Exceedingly pleased with himself we took the obligatory photo and released the fish. Soon after, he was complaining of a few hits on his fly. I thought he was getting a bit over excited and was about to say so when he was on again. This time with his second species, a golden perch. The sinking black and red fly he was using seemed to be the right one and I contemplated changing mine to a similar pattern but decided to stick with the black muddler for a bit longer.

As we moved towards the end of the inlet I cast the muddler up as far as it could go, hoping there might be a bass up there hungry enough to take it. Before I had a chance to strip it back there was a swirl and a splash and my line went tight - very tight. This was a decent fish and I quickly tried to keep if from the stand of thistles now drowned around the water's edge. It was having none of this and headed straight in changing directions several times. I could feel the line and leader dragging on the thistles as it went deeper into cover and I knew trying to drag it out would result in a lost fish. We motored in on the electric to see what we could do. Murray had the net ready but it felt as though the fish was gone. But as we got closer the fish tried to move and we spotted the monster amongst the weeds. After a few attempts and some heart stopping moments Murray netted the fish much to my delight and great relief. Placing the fish on our measuring mat showed it to be 49cm to the tail and after a few photos we thanked it and released it.

By now the sun was touching the far hills and we had exhausted our possibilities in the bay, so we moved out and headed up towards the river mouth. We tried a few stands of timber on the way where fish were showing on the sounder but had little luck. Meeting up with Browny and his son we shared our morning's experience then headed off towards some steeper banks in search of deeper water. No sooner had we left Browny than a shout came out and it was Jake onto his first bass on fly. Unfortunately it all happened so fast and dad couldn't get to him in time to help and he was busted off. Still a hook-up is better than nothing - well done Jake.

Along a steep bank on the far side of the lake we fished with deeper flies. The water was 12 feet deep right at the water's edge so we were letting the flies sink down for quite a while. Soon I was on again, this one was also a decent fish and I wrestled it to the surface, thankful there were no snags near by. Once boated we measured it to be 41cm - not a bad fish. The sun was getting quite high by now and time was heading on to 8am. We decided to make our way back towards the camp fishing a few steeper rocky banks on the way for another 30cm fish and a few hits.

Back at camp people had started to roll in. A few bass had been caught and a big catfish by Peter Frere. All in all a tally of 17 fish for the trip. We packed up our camp and had an early lunch before heading south back home. Considering the water quality, it is amazing that this was one of our more successful trips to Lake St Clair.