The St Clair Bass trip is a favourite of many of our members. The location is picturesque, it’s not too far from home & the inhabitants can usually be relied on to smash almost any offering. Accordingly yours truly set off on Friday in order to bags our usual spot. I arrived around 2pm & I couldn’t believe the crowd already in place. I mean it wasn’t school holidays yet it seemed half the state & his dog had beat me there. I still managed to secure some real estate near where we usually camp & awaited the troops. Recent rains had swelled the lake to levels not seen for quite a while, submerging some landmarks & transforming others.

Next to turn up was Ken Colmer & while we were celebrating the all important positioning of the barbie with a well earned cuppa Col Breese arrived. Ken & I left Col to his setting up & went for a reccie. We tried lures (it wasn’t club day so to the purists I say “chewie on ya boot “) as well as surface, shallow & deep flies. There was no joy but it was early days & it was great to be back in such a top spot. Back to the camp & after dinner & a couple of quiet beverages it was time to turn in when I discovered my airbed had sprung a leak & was as flat as a tack. Col saved my bacon (not to mention my spine) by producing his wader repair kit. I had to wait 12 hrs for the glue to set properly so I suffered that night but the next was heaven. Ta mate.

A cuppa or 2 was breakfast enough & we were off, Ken kindly taking me along as mobile ballast. Col had lent me a spinning outfit & as it’s been a while I thought I’d give it a go. A big bonus was the handle being on the right side for right hander’s, this being the left side. Soon after arriving at destination X Ken bagged a 28cm Bass. I opened my account on a shallow diving orange thingy about 3 casts later. The higher levels of water had made for some new tasty bass habitat all easily seen in the lightly tinted water. New bays & snags had been created every where making choosing “that” spot all the more difficult. It must have been confusing for the fish as well for while they could be discerned by the sounder they weren’t acting like the greedy guts, smash first & ask questions later bass we all know & love.

9:30 saw us back at camp & a chat with a member of the Valentine Bowling & Fishing Club revealed the extent of our fishing woes. They had been at the lake a day longer than us & in spite of the larger amount of water covered due to their greater numbers the result was much like ours. They had also tried soft plastics in addition to hard bodies & reported that even bait soakers were doing it tough. Nothing like a challenge. Dave’s Pajero was parked next to Ken‘s ‘Cruiser & the boat trailer was empty. He & Paul McGrath were out there somewhere & we could only hope they knew something we didn’t. Ken grabbed some drinks & munchables & headed back out while Col & I ducked into Singleton for supplies.

We got back to the lake a couple of hours later to discover Dave & Paul had pulled the pin & left. I discovered later they went to Liddel where higher water levels brought the Carp in closer & they both bagged fish. Col & I attended to chores around the camp & before long guys started to turn up. Ken returned with nothing to report. Then Mac Lyall, Jimmy Hyatt, Richard Hassel & Max Gear arrived with Murray Keating & Gary Kent not too far behind. Gary brought his new toy, a 429 Nomad Stacer. A nice unit it is too with front & rear casting decks. He & Max wasted no time in launching it while the rest of us took a much more relaxed view & decided a very late lunch would be more in order especially as some very ominous clouds were looming closer. We copped some light showers after lunch then it was time to check gear & saddle up. Jimmy & Col teamed up as did Ken & Murray. Mac & I were the other team which meant Richard played a solo hand.

Each boat load went their own way. Mac & I decided to attack the bank as did every one else. We mooched around for a while then headed over to a small inlet just before dusk & on my 2nd cast my black popper scored a hit & I was connected for 3 seconds. About 2 casts latter Mac was on but this time the Gods smiled & he boated a 29cm fish. Things were definitely looking up. We then tried the right arm of the inlet & again Mac got smacked. Unfortunately the line parted & Mac was without his now favourite (& only) popper. I had made 4 poppers 2 nights before so he was back into the action. I had another swipe & a miss then Mac was on again & once more the light [8lb] tippet parted. New tippet was the answer & as my popper box was looking a bit bare I voted for 50kg. In the end it was just too dark to cast with any confidence as between the bank & trees the odds of hitting the water were about 3/2.

Back in camp & it was time to turn on the bush tele, once more supplied by Mac. Gary had opened his account with a bass as had Jimmy. Both on fly, & combined with Mac’s effort it proved we still had a chance. A couple of jokes later & it started to rain lightly but with the lightning flashing like paparazzo’s strobes we decided to retire to the ballroom of Jimmy’s Hyatt Hotel Du Wheels. I say ballroom because there wasn’t any. It then teemed. The comedy continued, complete with heckler, & it was late to bed perchance to dream.

Morning came all too soon but caffeine, sweet caffeine made sense of the world & the task at hand. We set off as before, Mac & I trying the banks. Mac saw 1 tail slap on the surface & that was it for us. Young Mr Hyatt bagged a fish on a popper that he was too ashamed to let be photographed, such an ugly example of the tiers craft it were. The fish were so hard to come by I believe his tale that “the fly landed on it’s head” was not just to save our feelings. Well he’s never tried to spare us before so why start now? Elsewhere the same sad song was being sung; impeccable fly selection & millimetre perfect casting yielded no result.

As usual breakfast was fit for the Gods & it gave us time to ruminate on our efforts. The brains trust came up with this equation: Too much water + too much food = very content fish & no joy for fishermen. Maybe Dave & Paul did know something we didn’t after all. All I know is once the level starts to fall in StClair I’m going back & this time I’m not so sure that 50kg tippets are such a joke. All that food is going to make for some bloody big bass.