Jason Ehrlich takes a leap up north to tackle some of Australia’s more exotic freshwater delights.
Australia’s freshwater fishing scene is dominated by species like trout, Murray cod, golden perch and bass. From man-made lakes to river and streams, these fish are easily sort after in the country’s most highly populated areas. In my home state of Queensland, we are blessed to have species from the tropical north to add to this list of freshwater targets. Our battling brutes reside above the tidal influence in freshwater creeks and rivers fed by runoff from the Great Dividing Range.
Lower population density in Tropical North Queensland ensures these fish don’t see as many anglers as their fishy friends further south. There are options aplenty in Queensland’s north for those wanting some of this freshwater action. Jungle perch (JPs), mangrove jack, sooty grunter and barramundi are common on the east coast. Further north, in The Gulf and Top End, sooty grunter, saratoga and barramundi dominate the fresh. For the vast majority, accessing these fish requires quite a bit of planning and a sense of adventure.
This is the story of my journey to fish Cape York’s remote water around 200 km south of Australia’s most northern point. From our launching location, the Wenlock River catchment started roughly 125 km to the south east in the hills of the Great Dividing Range. Despite the nearby proximity, as the crow flies, its winding course takes you on a much longer journey. The river then grows as it snakes its way into the Gulf of Carpentaria north of the bauxite mining town of Weipa. From still water landlocked pools in the dry season, the Wenlock can rage at more than 15 m in height during the wet.
These big flood events allow the fish to migrate and replenish the system with vital nutrients kick-starting the food chain to ensure predators have plenty to feast on. Based on previous experience with river heights, some of the other boys chose May as the prime month for our assault.
Jason Medcalf hooked this quality barramundi on his light spinning
tackle. It was a mean feat to land it
from the hidden structure.
THE BIG ADVENTURE
After pizza and beers on a Thursday afternoon, we headed out to the drop off point. I had teamed up with fishing buddy Jason Medcalf and we were being dropped into Billys Bay by his great mate Steven Wilson (aka Willy). In darkness, it was here we met the rest of the crew. Four groups in total were making the journey down the river. At first we felt a little like outsiders as the other boys had all spent years in Weipa working in the ambulance and police services. This was a repeat trip down the Wenlock for them. Around the camp fire, the boys soon made us feel welcome as we shared fishing stories and other blokey tales.
Early the next morning, I was greeted to my first proper glimpse of the river. It looked completely different to what I saw the night before as we shone the torch after hearing the enormous splash of what we could only assume was a rather large crocodile. Only 15 or 20 m wide, its sandy bottom was littered with dead fallen timber. The section we had camped beside the night before was relatively shallow and the clear water pushed through at the pace of a fast walk. The darker, deeper sections around some of the snags screamed ‘fish’.
As the first rays of sun punched through the canopy of the trees, we packed up camp and readied our gear. Eight blokes laboured away to launch the four tinnies, fit electric motors and work out how best to fit in all the gear needed for the next five days. Camping gear, table, chairs, clothes, cooking gear, fridges, eskies, generator, chainsaw, food and drinks all had to be carried the 70-odd kilometres down the river to Stones Crossing in the small tinnies. Once packed, it was just a matter of finding somewhere to sit and plonk the most essential items – fishing rods and tackle – on top.
Jason and I had borrowed a tinny from Weipa. A practice pack before we left was of great benefit. We managed to squeeze everything in and have a system in place to keep the fishing rods down low and inside the boat to protect them as we bashed our way down the river bouncing off the trees.
Snags galore on the Wenlock River.
FAST FLOW AND EXOTIC FISH
Around 8 o’clock we said our goodbyes to the car drivers and pushed off to start the journey. For the next five days we were on our own; eight keen men ready to see what surprises the river had in stall for us. We watched as Matt and Whitey pushed off and drifted with the current about 20 m before being tangled in the first tree lying halfway across the river. They were soon dislodged when Westy and Joey followed the same path and bashed into them; knocking them free. We also made it about 20 m before ‘bang’, we hit the first tree. We learned our first lesson. Aluminium boats a bit over 3 m long being pushed by a 46 lb Minn Kota electric motor can be tricky to manoeuvre in fast water.
While still adjusting my driving skills, Jason kept an eye out for underwater obstacles.
We soon found our rhythm and started punching short casts to the snags and deeper banks. Within a couple of minutes, which equated to travelling a couple hundred metres from the launch point, Jason spotted a nice saratoga cruising the shoreline only metres from the boat. I placed a short cast in behind it and it turned and intercepted the lure before I could get it back to where it had been swimming. While only around 55 cm long, the pretty fish put up a spirited fight. Dragging a slab of fish to the boat is made a lot harder by the flow of fast water and the masses of line grabbing drowned timber.
My goal for the trip was to catch at least one of each of the target species. I thought sooty grunter and barramundi would be the easier targets. With saratoga ticked off, I was ready for more action which, as it happened, wasn’t far away.
The lure I’d chosen to throw on my light spinning tackle was a ¼ oz jighead rigged 7 cm Powerbait Ripple Shad attached to a beetle spin blade. The same lure had been awesome on the southern strain of saratoga in SE Queensland impoundments and I had a feeling the sooties would love it as well. Sometimes a hunch pays off and the beetle spin rigged plastic excelled throughout the day. Sooty grunter, saratoga and barramundi all fell to the flashy artificial offering. It was a great lure to work in both slow, deeper sections as well as the faster shallow stretches.
Just as Jase and I were starting to get a roll on nailing fish after fish, we hit a deeper, slow hole where Wardy and Dossy had their boat anchored and the billy on the boil. A morning tea and a lunch stop each day broke the hectic nature of racing down the river, firing casts to as many targets as possible.
The urge to cast at all likely areas and getting our fair share of snags saw Jason and I lagging behind the three other boats in the afternoon. We had lost sight of them in the winding river for over an hour but as we rounded a tight right hand bend, the three boats were pulled up at the first major obstacle.
BATTLING LOGJAMS
Each year the river changes after flooding in the wet. We had encountered a series of log jams which were right across the river. When this happens, there are only two options. Option A is to unload the boats, manhandle them around, then lug all the gear and repack them. Option B is to clear a path. It doesn’t take much in a running river to shuffle a boat over logs just below the surface. Trees blocking the path need to be cleared. Most boats carried a Gerber machete with a saw tooth back. These were great for hacking or sawing smaller trees and branches. The log jams we were faced with required a little more attention and the silence was soon broken by the sound of a chainsaw. After wading and manhandling the boats through the jam, we made our way a little further to a shallow area with expansive sand flats. It was early afternoon and time to set up camp and think about getting the fire going for a camp oven tea.
With one day over, the river had already taken its toll. Between the groups, two fishing rods had been snapped and a screw mount on one of the electric motors busted off. The chainsaw came in handy to fashion up a block of timber to secure the mounting bracket in place due to their only being one mounting screw remaining.
The next couple of days produced plenty more fish action. Sooty grunter were most common and saratoga were fighting the barra for second place. Each day we were faced with challenges. Log jams, rock bars, sand bars and hidden trees hindered our path. Matt and Whitey earned the title of Team Breaker on day two. Trying to retrieve a snag saw the boys hit an underwater obstacle with the electric. The pair were thrown around with Whitey snapping the reel off of his rod on the side of the boat and Matt breaking his rod. The damage didn’t stop there. The electric motor shaft splintered with heaps of splits through the composite shaft. More bush mechanics were required to fix this. Some epoxy putty wrapped around the shaft and some good old zip ties kept them going for the rest of the trip.
Whitey also had some drama later in the afternoon. He stepped onto a piece of sandy bank which gave way; twisting his ankle. Barely able to walk on that foot for the rest of the trip, he hopped around with a bandage wrapped around the sore and swollen joint.
Thankfully we were passed the worst of the log jams. A big jam late on day two saw us lifting and cutting our way around a massive tree and some smaller ones totally across the river. Late afternoon and blokes wading chest deep in water to push the boats through don’t go together well in Queensland’s north. Hopefully the sound of the chainsaw and commotion was enough to scare off any big reptiles. Even with crocs sharing the same water, we bathed and swam in the shallows. The shallow sand bars were up to a hundred metres long at times and you could see the bottom all around. We set up camp well away from the water and made sure swags and beds were rolled out around 50 m from the water’s edge.
SLOWING OUR ROLL
On day four, we set off in fast water but were told of some longer, deeper pools nearby. To Jase and I, this sounded like an ideal time to slow down and fish slightly bigger lures for bigger barramundi. Hardbodies were tied on to our heavier baitcast outfits. Jason opted for a Sebile Koolie Minnow and I was running a Tilsan Barra. The plan was to fish the deep pools fast until we found some action then pull up and hammer the snag.
The first deep corner littered with snags proved the theory. We started off with a saratoga before a slow procession of barramundi came to the boat. The other boys fished the same bend in the river with similar luck. Plenty of saratoga were chewing and this may have been due to the windy conditions shaking food out of the trees. Jase twitched his lure back out of the snag we were hammering when it was nailed by a better class of fish. Most of the barramundi had been small with the occasional one nudging 60 centimetres. This fish had more grunt and as it danced across the surface we soon saw it had a lot more weight and size to it. We boated his near 70 cm fish and took a pile of photos before releasing it.
We pushed on and Jason continued to pull fish into the boat while I missed a few. Saratoga were providing us with the most action. The river was now wider and we had to move from one side to the other at times to cast to the better snags. We switched sides after spotting a great looking bank and were soon rewarded with a double hook-up on a sooty and small barra. We rushed back to the same snag where the two small fish came from to see if we could elicit any more action. Once you turn the fish on from a big fallen snag, their mates often become keen to get in on the hullabaloo and you can manage to score a stack of fish from the one area.
My Tilsan Barra was deep alongside the fallen tree. Twitch, twitch, pause, twitch, twitch, pause. Then from out of nowhere a beast latched on. This was not like the last hundred odd fish I’d hooked in the river, this thing had more power. For a brief moment it had the line wrapped in the snag but then as the fish came to the surface the line pulled free. A big silver flash rolled on the surface and left a whirlpool in its wake. Finally; the big barramundi I’d been hoping for. There was no point trying to let the fish stay deep and not jump with all the submerged structure so I held the rod high and enjoyed the show as the barra danced all over the place. After a minute or two the leader was in my hand and the fish continued to leap until I finally secured it and lifted it into the boat. At 87 cm, it was the biggest barra we had seen for the trip. Fishing the bigger lures and targeting the bigger fish had paid off.
At camp, it was our turn to impress the boys with our cooking skills. It was a bit like My Tinnie Rules as we set up our bush kitchen and got to work. Jason and I had no idea what we were doing but his mate Willy is a great cook and had given us some simple instructions to follow that even we couldn’t stuff up. Apricot chicken and rice cooked in the camp oven was the main course followed by some fruit and custard for desert. For meals out in the middle of nowhere I think we excelled.
Winding Down
We still had about 10 km to travel in half a day on day five. We were being met just after midday by two vehicles at Stones Crossing. This still allowed some fishing time and we cast our way down the river. Jason and I were lagging a few hundred metres when we heard the call. All we could make out was, “Quick come here, it’s Joey”. We immediately feared the worst. What had happened? Was everything alright? Never had I realised just how slow you really go with an electric motor on full speed.
As we came through the S bend in the river the other boats were pulled up onto the sand and there was Joey. Thank God! There he was sitting in the water, cradling a massive barra. “We thought you might want to see this,” he said. Joey and Westy had pushed through a rock bar and the ‘S’ bend first and Joey had decided to make a change and throw a surface lure. He tied on a Tango Dancer which is a pretty big lure for these parts and on the very first cast was rewarded with an explosive barra strike. The fish gave the boys some grief as they tried to steer it clear of all the obstacles in the river. Finally, the 97 cm fish was done and Joey had his prize. For a freshwater barra in these parts, it was massive. The guys had never boated one over 70 cm in the past 5 years. Joey’s smile, half hidden by bushy facial hair, said it all, as the big girl was released off into the depths.
Surprises like big barra, dancing toga climbing all over surface lures and big black sooty grunter from the fast, shallow water snags make the effort worthwhile. Not knowing what is around the next corner and how hard the experience will be adds to the adventure as well. Five days without seeing another person or even hearing a car or plane reinforced the remoteness of the location. All efforts were taken to make the trip safe. Foolishness or poor planning could see the same trip fail and end in tragedy. To experience fishing in such a remarkable location for the first time was unforgettable and an opportunity for which I am grateful. Special thanks go out to all the guys who made it happen; not just those who enjoyed the ride down the river but those who went out of their way to drop us off and pick us up.
The Wenlock River is just one of the remote locations you can enjoy on Cape York. The fishing can be out of this world and the location is unique. Do yourself a favour and visit Weipa and its surrounds. It truly is one of Australia’s best freshwater fishing locations.
Take your time planning, stay safe and enjoy what the Top End has to offer.
Jason Ehrlich is a fishing journalist and presenter and lives just north of Toowoomba on Queensland’s Darling Downs. He specialises in Australian freshwater species such as bass, barra and cod but loves to target anything with fins. He is a Pro Staff member for companies such as Berkley, Abu Garcia, Halco, Humminbird and Minn Kota.
