Fishing for Murray Cod

Early in 2019 I was fortunate enough to be fishing in Australia.  I was invited by Dean Cooper, who is head of Tourism Australia’s sport fishing division to fish in Tasmania ahead of the World Championships (another story) and then to go to northern New South Wales to fish for Murray Cod.  I had no idea as to what to expect of the Murray Cod, though, having a subscription for “Flylife”, in my opinion, the best fishing magazine around, I took out some back copies and gained a little insight.

I met Dean at Sydney airport and then travelled up to Armidale on the same flight as him.  We were met from the plane by Josh Hutchins and his fellow guide Micky.  Their truck was already loaded to the roof – and beyond….but we just about squeezed our luggage and ourselves into it.  We got know to each other during the journey to the creeks we were to fish – an interesting trip as it took us through a few villages that had been burnt out by the recent and still ongoing bush fires.

Eventually we reached our destination and visited the farmhouse of the creek owner, but found that he was away acting as a volunteer fire fighter, so we went and dropped our luggage at a most comfortable set of cabins and then went to town to buy the groceries and beers and have a salad and coffee.

On our return we went back to the farmhouse and met Michael and Kay, a lovely couple who own the land for a fair way around.  They were so welcoming – I found that Josh had been there before doing a video shoot with my client and friend Jeremy Wade.  Michael had done the general guiding through his creeks for that, and so the catch up chat was interesting.  Eventually we set off to do some fishing, and in spite of such hot temperatures and cloudless skies, we actually found water.  It amazed me that these creeks had water in at all, never mind that there was plenty; the water wasn’t as hot as I would have imagined either.  On getting out of the truck to prepare for fishing, the first thing that struck me was the fantastic smell of the bush!  Smells, I think, are evocative for fishing memories;  I certainly get transported back to distant venues when I recognise certain smells.

So, we set up our gear.  Nine-weight rods, floating line, sturdy tippets – about twenty pounds.  I was told to put on a fairly large black lure – similar to what I might opt for with pike fishing.  Then, basically, fish the pool in front of you – the creeks being separated by rocks, narrow channels and dry sections.  Vary retrieve, and fish the fly right to the edge.  I was being guided by Micky, a very encouraging fellow, and not too long after starting we both noticed a swirl as I was lifting to re-cast. I did the lift in a roll-cast type of way as I probably would for pike, hanging the fly at rod-length out, but Micky suggested that I keep the rod tip down and really fish out the fly to the bank under my feet.

Three casts later I had a solid hit and soon had my first Murray Cod.  The fish was stunningly beautiful and I was amazed to hear from Micky that this fish was only small.  It seems that in this system they grow to well over a metre in length and can be over one hundred pounds!  I believe that most British anglers wouldn’t give a rocky, tree-lined, semi-stagnant and weedy pool such as this a second glance.  But, I was now well and truly eager to get amongst some bigger fellows.

A smaller fish followed, but, I had by now been instructed to change to a popper, and I this had induced several other slashes, though no more hook-ups.  One or two of the swirls were from decent fish.  It seems that this is a common feature, and in fact ties in with a lot of popper fishing that I have tried, both for pike and for saltwater fish…lots of action, but not so many hook-ups!

We headed “downstream” to try another pool, but, after giving it a fair go, a thick mist descended and as with most fishing that curtailed our sport for the evening.  We headed back to Michael’s farm house and had supper.  Little did I realise, having been so engrossed in the fishing that it was now well past midnight.

So, it was after one before I managed to drag myself to bed, and just four hours later was up again to have an early morning assault on the cod.  We had coffee and a bite at Michael’s and set off.  Tackling up in the Australian bush as the sun rises , with the sounds and smells of the surroundings is a far cry from the trout fishing I am used to.  I could easily have walked around looking at the variety of birds through my binocular, or just sat there listening to Australian bush awake, but, I was there to try to catch Murray cod, and so, with the same popper as the night before, I set to it.

Action was instant, with slashes, hits and swirls.  We even caught a few fish.  Everyone was having a go apart from Michael, who had taken to walking along with me and chatting.  Michael had spent his life fishing these creeks.  He is mostly a spin or bait fisherman and used to, like most locals, take the cod for food.  They are very tasty.  But, as the numbers of them declined he realised that they were in trouble.  In many parts of Australia, this iconic fish is critically endangered.  In this area though, largely due to Michael’s work, the fish are making a recovery.  We had a great time walking along chatting and I learnt so much about the ways of rural Australia.  Michael would have forgotten more about the wildlife that the grew up with than most people know.  It was a great education for me.

We fished through the morning, moving a few times to different pools, and steadily caught fish.  Once the sun was high, the others changed to sub-surface lures, but, as my popper was producing plenty of action and enough fish to keep me more than happy, I saw no reason to drop down.

By about one o’clock, it was announced by Josh that we would look for a decent pool for a swim and to have lunch next to.  No worries about crocs in this part of Aussie, so in we went.  It was a delight, though, getting back out and having to walk on the rocks with bare-feet was quite a trial as they were so hot.  Michael produced a griddle and soon had a fire going, and in no time some wonderful steak sandwiches were being devoured.  The rest all took it easy…I guess the “mad Englishman” couldn’t resist the midday sun, so, I went exploring and photographing wildlife and just taking it all in.  After all, when will I be able to return?

We fished on until we were exhausted, hungry, and certainly ready for an ale or two.  Somehow or another I managed to catch either twelve or thirteen Murray cod, but had action almost the whole day on the same popper.  The others caught fish but in smaller numbers.  Beginner’s luck…..

Another fine farmhouse meal followed, along with some most desirable ale.  Bed was so welcome!

Next day was almost an anti-climax as the fish just didn’t seem to respond too much.  Sure, we all caught some fish, with Josh managing a really nice one that had attempted to “eat” a fish that Dean was playing, but, generally things were much more quiet.  I had one chance at a really large fish, but, sadly, I didn’t get a good enough cast at it.  There were few opportunities for sight-fishing, though in many creeks it seems that this is the way that the guides operate.

Josh and Micky certainly needed a large truck – I mentioned earlier how loaded it was when we met them at the airport.  I discovered that apart from huge amounts of photographic gear, fishing gear and personal stuff, they also had an inflatable boat, and a drone.  The drone was used for both aerial shots and to explore further afield than we could drive.  Interesting!  We fished from the boat next day – both Dean and I went out with Micky, whilst Josh fished from the shore.  Dean and I both had a nice fish from the boat, and several other hits that didn’t hook up.  But, the action was not as compelling as I would have expected.

So concluded a fantastic couple of days on Moredun Creeks.  Should you find yourself in New South Wales, and fancy a different sort of fishing, Michael is your man.  His email address is as follows:

[email protected]

Back to the reality of the drive back to the airport and on to Sydney.  I was met there by my good old pal Bob Bell, and that led to a few more fishy adventures, both in the Snowies and then on the coast with Steve Bishop and his family.  I may get to tell some tales about that sometime….