Column

Rhythm
of Life

part

12

` By Rubin Jala

}The Conversion of a

Spin Fisherman

Zen
Fishing

Fishing in the
clouds
Sid momentarily cut his engine and
adjusted the trim on the aluminium boat.
He tied a chartreuse gold Tasmanian
Devil and handed the rod to Phoebe.
Mine had a black red belly version on
it. He then turned the boat closer to the
line of trees and followed the edge at
drop off.
The April morning was so foggy;
he had to turn on the lights on the 4WD
as we descended to the waters edge.
Now sitting on the mirrored surface
and the stillness that seemed to erase

5Relic of the Past, an old Fishing Shack

the seam between the lake and the

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Column
6Floating on a bed of clouds, Woods Lake, Central Highlands. Tasmania.

sky and I had the dreamy sensation of

floating on a carpet of clouds, much the
same feeling as I had when I flew on a
Twin Otter to Bario and wasn't able to
land due to the thick cloud cover.
My wife and I had just driven a hire
car on the way to a resort in the Cradle
Mountain for a well-deserved holiday
when we decided to drop in on our
Aussie relatives, Sidney and Iris West in
Launceston. It's a Kelabit thing, to make
a courtesy call to your rellies when you
are visiting.
Needless to say they insisted that
we stay with them. I didnt need any

Wilderness
Fishing

further convincing when Sid suggested

The fog thinned before we

he could take us fishing at his "private"

reached the boat ramp and the trees

land, teeming with wildlife and fish. I

thought if I were to land a rising fish on
dry I might even consider selling up in
Perth and move there permanently.
Bario Highlands? Kinabalu? Taupo,
New Zealand? This was the wilderness

lake in the mountains. Iris packed

and skyline on either sides of the lake

fishing at Woods Lake, Central Highland,

sandwiches and biscuits and soon we

began to emerge. In the distance I

Tasmania. Have you ever imagined

were on open road again. As it turned

could just make out the shiny tin roof of

going to a faraway fishing destination,

out, this became the highlight of the

a dilapidated fishing shack among the

read all the blurbs on the fishing guides

short holiday - a perfect break in the

virgin stands at ghost gums.

weather; telltale dimples of fish surface

Apart from another couple in a

and then serendipitously finding the

real place to be more stunning than

feeding on the open water was an

camper trailer at the bush camp, there

your imagination? Well, this was one of

invitation to a superb day of fishing that

was no one else there - no tents, no

those rare occasions - finding myself

was about to unfold.

boats, only water and pristine bush

blessedly fishing wild Tasmania per

kindness of a kindred spirit you only just
met for the first time.

6Kindred spirits, Sid and Iris West, Launceston

We were booked for a few days

on the last leg of our journey at the
Tarraleah fly-fishing resort. I was totally
unprepared for what was in store for
the day. It's one thing to read about the
history of how trout made its way (first
to a sanctuary in Tasmania then to the
rivers and lakes in Australia and later
to New Zealand), but its another to
be able to time travel breath the same
air. It's hard to imagine how, within a
100km or so, away from the peace and
quiet of the "The Sanctuary", built as a
tribute to the pioneers of trout fishing,
was one of the most notorious penal
asylums of Port Arthur where men were
incarcerated senseless from inhumane
solitary confinement. u

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From sketchy historical descriptions

of early fishing in the trout museum I visited

4Phoebe,

in Hobart, although fishing flourished in

pleased with
her prized wild
brown trout,
Wood Lake.

the late 1800's, most fish were caught

on natural bait. Fly-fishing in the central
Highlands did not attract international
attention until well into the 1970's.
Needless to say, today, fishing would be
considered as the most popular sport in
Tasmania.
Sidney and Iris West are old school salt of the earth kind of people who believe
in common good and doing the right thing
by this planet of ours. It is a dispiriting to
hear them lament about the gradual loss
of pristine rivers and forests along with the

3Author's Life
Changing Brown
Trout

farming communities in the area. It's a sad

fact, idyllic places, much like my home in
Bario, Kelabit Highlands, does not stay that
way for long. But for the time being, the
sacred experience of wilderness fishing is
there to be had right here, within an hours
drive from Launceston and I am so thankful
to be here.
Sid knew the central lakes and
crisscross mountain roads like the back of
his hand. His fishery knowledge of the area
would be as good, if not better that any
paying fishing guide I might have hired.
"If you came in February or March
you might have had a chance to find tailing
fish in the shallows," he said, "but for now
we are targeting nomad fish in the open
waters."

Life Changing
Moment

6Tillerman, giving me the thumbs up

Inside the lake the fog had just lifted,

the water was shimmering bright, the
morning sun was at our back, and as in
Sid's own word, "Theres a big fish out
there with your name on it." The pulse on
Phoebe's graphite rod indicated that her
lure was swimming properly. No sooner
had I handed the rod back to her than a fish
struck; the rod buckled momentarily under
the weight of what was a good fish.

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The line slackened but tightened

Malcolm died not very long after

again, and in the distance a mint

that; I got to think about what he said,

the surface. To think that just a few days

ago, thousands of miles away on the

fish broke water and fell back again.

maybe he wasnt that crazy after all. I

other side of Australia I was furiously

Thankfully the drag on the old reel was

was probably the crazy one to be doing

punching away at a keyboard as if my

working, as it should be. The fish made

what I wasnt born to do for so long.

life depended on it. I figured that I had

one heart-stopping run, leapt and the

Sid beached the boat not far from

ten days to get my head cleared of this

line went limp. I was certain we'd lost

the old fishing hut, Iris poured hot

madness before I get swallowed into an

the fish. Or did we?

tea from a flask and served biscuits.

irredeemable vortex. Deliverance had

Phoebe reeled in more lines, the

surface boiled just feet away from the

Standing on the shoreline on a clear

seemed so far but with a few more days

morning I watched more trout dimpling

like today it might just be within reach.

bow of the boat, another frantic pulse

before it came to the net. A five pound
buck brown had inhaled the Devil so

Post Script:

hard, I had to use a forcep to extricate

the lure from the back of the throat.

My wife and I went on the first real holiday we had in a long time,

Over the next hour or so, we landed

without the kids. We stayed at a five-star resort at Cradle Mountain

several more fish all about the same

Wilderness Village. Too early for snowfall but they had a roaring fire at

size, but on lures.

the restaurant, where we ate King Island Beef and drank red wine.

The exact details of the sublime

fishing moment I can't quite remember,

I remember being absolutely inspired by the wilderness

photography by Masaaki Aihara, which was on exhibition at a gallery

but the sight of the glistening fish in the

there. We then drove all the way to Strahan, but not before I bought

morning sun was probably a common

myself a 6Wt Redington combo and then slowly made our way back to

sight for a diehard spin-fisher like

Tarraleah Eco Resort.

Sid but for me it was a life changing

We hired a dinghy and spent the next three days just chilling out on

moment, enough to convert one to fly

the water. Phoebe didnt do too bad a job as my tillerman; okay I didnt

fishing; and for good.

catch one on dry fly this time, but I had some idea on what I wanted to

I remember the holiday well

do for the rest of my life.

because it was the Autumn I had

turned fifty-four, just one more year I'd
be eligible for early retirement. I had
done three consecutive projects and
was about to be assigned to a fourth.
I just about had enough brutality for
now; I couldnt face presenting another
board paper or writing an ensuing

3The first real holiday

contract. Feeling burnt out, it felt like I

we had in a long time,

without the kids.

was carrying an anchor in my head and

an inner voice said I needed to take a
break, any break.

Deliverance
too far
''Why don't you write about fishing
if you like it so much," Malcolm Douglas,

3The picturesque

an Australian adventure writer told me

wilderness.

once. "Sounds crazy, but that's what I

did," he said.

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