The on-line publication of an ABC News item on 14 June, 2021, marked the first time most of us had heard about a startling new assessment concerning the depletion of Spanish mackerel stocks along the eastern seaboard of Australia. According to this news report, a meeting of the East Coast Spanish Mackerel Working Group in Brisbane earlier that same month had been presented with new stock assessments indicating that the species biomass (total amount) of Spanish mackerel remaining in east coast waters had been reduced to just 17% of its un-fished (pre-1911) levels. This is below the 20% trigger point at which a fishery is recommended to be completely shut down under the current Sustainable Fisheries Strategy. Understandably, this alarming news sent shock waves through the commercial and recreational fishing worlds, as well as the seafood industry and the wider public, especially in Queensland. How the hell had things become so bad so quickly? The new 17% figure was particularly puzzling in light of the fact that a 2018 stock assessment contained in a 2020 report from the Fisheries Research and Development Corporation (FRDC) had indicated a remaining east coast Spanish mackerel biomass of 30 to 50% (most likely around 40%), and listed the status of the fishery as “sustainable”. So, what had changed in just a few years?   NEW MODELLING The short answer is that the actual methodology of the scientific process for assessing the stock has been updated. In other words, different modelling is now being used to come up with an estimate for the remaining biomass of mackerel. Apparently, this new methodology is still under peer review in scientific circles, and it remains to be seen if it ultimately passes muster. If it does, east coast mackerel stocks are clearly...

Below is a copy of the transcript of my talk at the 2019 National Recreational Fishing Conference in Hobart, accompanied by some of the screen shots from my PowerPoint presentation: To introduce myself and give you some background: I’ve been a keen recreational angler for over half a century, and for the past 40 years, I’ve made my career and my living from writing about fishing, hosting videos, presenting shows on television and developing and endorsing fishing-related products. It’d be fair to say that rec’ fishing isn’t just a big part of my life… it  IS my life! Over that time, I’ve watched recreational fishing change significantly: both here in Australia and right around the world. The technological breakthroughs and mind-boggling advances in tackle and related fields like boating and marine electronics are one obvious area of change, but the very nature of recreational fishing has also shifted. So has its place in society, and that society’s attitudes towards it. When I was a kid, fishing as a sport, a hobby or a pastime — whatever you want to call it — was still very much dominated by men, and the over-riding motivation for going fishing was to catch a bag of fish, bring them home and eat them… simple as that. For lots of casual and not-so casual anglers, this “hunter/gatherer” aspect remains important, and it wasn’t such a long time ago that many of us (myself included) thought nothing of “killing our limit”. Back in the 1950s and early 60s, the average Aussie angler was a working-class bloke in shorts and a blue shearer’s singlet, or a pair of overalls, with a couple of handlines or a Rangoon cane rod and an Alvey reel. He typically carried a hessian bag to hold...

Below is my editorial from the February 2019 “Fishotopian” newsletter. To subscribe to these free monthly newsletters from Fishotopia.com, please click here. Unless you’ve been overseas or off grid for the past few months, you’ll have seen coverage of catastrophic fish kills in outback NSW, especially along the Darling River near Menindee. The scale of this disaster is staggering and difficult for most of us to comprehend. It appears the loss of aquatic life in some stretches of this iconic outback waterway may be close to total. It’ll take decades for native fish populations to recover, assuming they ever do… and that’s a big assumption. The Darling River holds a special place in my heart. Back in 1980, my first posting as a wet-behind-the-ears schoolteacher was to Bourke, in north western NSW. Here, along the steep banks of the twisting Darling, I discovered the “vision splendid” of Banjo Patterson’s “sunlit plains extended, and at night the wond’rous glory of the everlasting stars”. It was here I first inhaled the intoxicating perfume of that wonderful petrichor that’s released as fat drops of rain smack onto drought-parched plains, and watched the sun slide behind a horizon so staggeringly wide you’d swear you can see the curvature of the earth. On the downside, I also witnessed the mud-sucking peak of a spreading carp plague, and watched the disturbing phenomenon of a river suddenly flowing backwards as giant irrigation pumps fired up to feed cotton crops the size of small European nations. For me, the writing was already on the wall for the mighty Darling, and the story it told was not a happy one. The Darling is officially described as a “dryland river” and is characterised by “extreme climatic variability”. It has been that way since well...

On 15 January, 2019, I received some very exciting news from NSW DPI Fisheries. It seems that a large dusky flathead I tagged and fin-clipped for DNA analysis on 16th October, 2018 had recently been recaptured and re-released. The fish measured 84.5 cm when I caught it in mid-October, in the lower reaches of Tuross Lake. On 4th January, 2019, when recaptured by Ian “Hoots” Cowie, it had grown to 86.5 cm (that’s 2 cm of growth in just 80 days!) and had moved at least two nautical miles (close to 4km) up the Tuross River. It was also in excellent condition at the time of recapture and had clearly put on weight. The fish swum away very strongly when released the second time. (As an interesting side note, Ian reports that there was quite a bit of weed growth on the tag that had to be scraped off to reveal the serial number.) Interestingly, this fish was hooked quite deeply when I caught it on a big, un-weighted soft plastic, requiring the use of long-nosed pliers to remove the hooks, and it did bleed slightly. It was then held in the circulating live-well aboard my boat for approximately 20 minutes and transported several hundred metres to the boat ramp so that I could meet my wife Jo and John Suthern from the Tuross Heads Fishing Club, who had the fin-clip sampling kit. None of those original handling parameters were optimal or ideal, yet the fish not only survived, but clearly thrived. For me, this is EXCELLENT news and bodes very well for the survival of large flathead that can be quickly unhooked and released with minimal handling at or near the capture sight, as recommended. (For details on how to best handle flathead...

The fastest way to make fisherfolk angry is to attempt to stop them from going fishing, or to deny them access to popular, productive and accessible locations without some very, very good reasons. One state government in Australia is finding this out right now! In late August this year, the NSW State Government released phase three of its Hawkesbury Shelf Marine Bioregion Assessment. Contained within this very extensive series of documents were proposals to create a network of 25 new, enlarged or modified habitat protection zones within an extensive Marine Park stretching from Newcastle to Wollongong and including the entire Sydney metropolitan coastline and harbour. Included within the various zones of this proposed Marine Park are a significant number of marine sanctuaries, where line and spear fishing would be completely banned if the plan goes ahead, as well as numerous other “special purpose” zones with varying levels of restrictions on different activities, both recreational and commercial. The NSW Marine Estate (the over-arching body behind this proposal) also announced a series of public consultation or information sharing meetings to be staged across the zone throughout late August and into September, as well as inviting both written and on-line submissions from all interested parties. The closing date for this consultation period was initially set down as Thursday, 27 September. At the time of writing there was already some suggestion that this consultation period may be extended due to the intensity of the public backlash against the proposals. To say that the release of this highly contentious and rather unexpected proposal has created a storm of adverse reaction in recreational fishing circles would be a serious understatement! Within hours of the release of the Marine Estate’s on-line documents, a Facebook group calling itself STOP THE LOCKOUT! was...

On Sunday, 18th June, 2017, I was invited to address a rally in Hobart protesting against a proposed industrial-scale salmon farm at Okehampton Bay, on the island state’s iconic east coast. You can read more about the background to this divisive issue here. Below is a transcript of my speech to the 1,000-plus folks from across the political and social spectrums who attended this powerful demonstration of people power, dubbed “FloatMo” by its organisers: “Unlike the vast majority of you here today, I’m not a Tasmanian. This is not an issue that’s literally in my backyard. Instead, I’m one of those million-plus visitors who come to this beautiful island each year from the mainland and all over the world. “I love my regular visits to Tasmania, whether I’m wading a trout stream or lake edge with a fly rod in my hand, flicking a lure for a wily bream here in the Derwent River or — as I was yesterday — trolling for tuna in the shadow of those awesome cliffs south of Eaglehawk Neck… There’s so much to love about Tasmania! “So, while this might not be my backyard, I do feel very connected to this place, especially after dozens of visits across several decades. And I feel that I’m qualified to tell you a little bit about what it is that brings people like myself to this island state to spend our tourist dollars. “For me (and, I suspect, for many others) it’s about the “wildness” of the place: “wildness”, but not necessarily wilderness. This “wildness” has been lost in so many other parts of the world. For many of us who visit Tasmania, it’s all about the feeling of being somewhere that has largely escaped the worst ravages of rampant development. “It’s the clean,...

He’d been lying there, wide awake, for at least an hour when the bedside alarm finally sounded its shrill, electronic squawk. Out in the darkened driveway, the boat was fuelled and hooked to the car, every item of gear meticulously organised and packed from the night before. The weather report was benevolent and he knew the fish were biting. But a heavy weight pressed down on the man’s chest, while dense, black clouds swirled endlessly inside his head. Every thought that careened through his seething brain was a negative one, every perceived outcome a disappointment or total disaster. Minutes ticked by, dragging into another hour, and the eastern sky began to lighten perceptibly as he wrestled with his inner demons, drowning in those fathomless clouds of swirling darkness. For the hundredth time since waking, he turned fitfully from one side to the other, now drawing his knees up toward his chest as he attempted to curl into a tight, defensive ball. Kookaburras began laughing raucously on the power poles right outside the window. It seemed as if they were mocking and jeering his weakness. The man squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, but the boiling clouds of blackness still filled his head. He wouldn’t fish today… He might not even get out of bed. What was the point? What was the point of anything? Depression… Society’s reaction to that three-syllable word has shifted dramatically in just a few generations. For our grandparents, it triggered memories of a period of unprecedented financial hardship sandwiched between the great wars of the 20th century. For them, the notion of depression as a mental state or even an illness was less familiar. Everyone experienced sadness or stress in their lives, but they were expected to “get over it”....

For at least a decade now, kayak fishing has been one of the fastest growing sectors of the angling scene here in Australia, as well as in many other parts of the world. Interestingly, this phenomenon shows little sign of slowing. Sales of kayaks and related paraphernalia continue to boom, marking this as one of the strongest niches in the marine and boating industry. I must admit that I’ve been a little slow to embrace the whole kayak “thing”. I spent lots of time sitting (usually with a wet bum) in various Canadian-style canoes throughout my early fishing career, and I was delighted when I could finally afford to graduate to a “real” boat. Don’t get me wrong: canoes have their place, and I’ve enjoyed some wonderful times in them. However, once you’ve fished from a craft that’s sufficiently large and stable to stand up in, especially one with a raised casting deck, it’s very hard to willingly go back to the low, cramped, unstable and often wet confines of a canoe. There were also other factors holding me back from kayak fishing. One was a perception that many ’yak fishers, as well as those who catered to their equipment needs, seemed to be missing the whole point of simple, minimalist boating. Some of the ’yak rigs I saw on the water and in magazines or videos had more “fruit” hanging off them in the way of electronics and accessories than my 4.8 metre trailer boat! Some actually required dedicated trailers of their own just to get them to the water’s edge, and half an hour or more of fiddling, tweaking and setting up before they were good to go. Wasn’t portability and ease of use supposed to be the whole point of ’yakking?...