THURSDAY 16 JULY     SILVER PLAINS CAMP

We pottered about in the morning. It was a hot day.

Drove back up to the house to get drinking water. Also – to check that we could find our way back there! Des has guests staying at the house and the men were away, fishing. We talked with the lady visitor staying there, for a while. She has three young children, two of whom have the flu, and one a baby of 4 months. So she is not having a great time!

She told us that the lease was owned by an American, who inherited it from his father. To meet the lease terms, he’d had to spend money on the tourist operation, hence the new house, but he was not really interested in the property. Guess the buy back has done him a favour!

Her husband has been coming here for 17 years, to fish, from NSW. He better make the most of this trip, then, because it may well be the last!

D used to live in the old homestead, next to this one, a tin clad job. She said that even that was flash by Cape standards. D’s wife died not long back and is buried here; we saw a grave marker as we came in. I wonder what will happen to that when D has to leave?

In the early afternoon, went down to the tidal boat mooring area. We were there when D and his guest returned from fishing downstream, in the small tin punt. They had barramundi and crabs. D asked us if we had a fridge. Upon being told yes, he gave us a barramundi. He also had some bait fish to give John. He still had some of the bait he uses in his crab pots – great chunks of topside steak, still frozen!

We took the fish back to camp, where we measured it at 80cms long. John cleaned it and I cut it up into pieces that would fit in the fridge – after that, there was not much room left. Certainly, there is enough for at least four good meals.

We then drove back to the tidal creek reach. John really wanted to catch one of these specimens for himself! Though part of the challenge is now gone, since we now have as much as we can eat, anyway! The size of the barra rather makes the Hann Crossing yellow belly look puny.

John fished. He did not find this easy, with lots of trees around to get tangled up in, plus the several mooring ropes in the creek, for the big boat. He managed to decorate some trees, and mooring ropes with assorted tackle items and bait fish!

I remained in Truck, knitting, with the windows up, because of the sandflies abounding in this area.

John had two rods going – both pretty light weight, in my view, for the size and aggression of fish in these parts. I have some knowledge here, having fished on Melville Island and caught big fish. John had one rod propped up on a folding camp stool. I ventured out of Truck and warned him that tropical fish do not usually give polite little tugs and nibbles, like the ones down south – so such an arrangement might be somewhat naive. No – he knew what he was doing, I was told!

Suddenly, the propped-up rod took off like a javelin, straight out about 3 metres, before it landed on the water and sailed away upstream! It paused for a while, near some root snags on the other side, before disappearing under the water.

The look on John’s face when the rod flew off was hysterically funny. That old saying about the jaw dropping……I was laughing too much to use the camera.

We used the binoculars to try to see the rod, and thought we caught a glimpse – hard to tell in the roots. Nothing could be done to try to find the rod until the tide went out, and with it any nasties that might lurk.

We speculated greatly about what fishy monster might have taken the rod. Barra? Mangrove Jack? Certainly something of the hit and run variety.

Fish bites were not all we gained, either. The sandflies didn’t stop to watch the comedy unfold, but zoomed in. This will become one episode in our trip that will never be forgotten – even after we stop itching.

We started  eating the barra for tea. Just lightly dredged with flour and pan fried in butter. John had a few fries with his – of course, I am now out of potatoes, just when I really need them. Good planning there, Wendy!

I am finding that my appetite has disappeared. Don’t know if it is the heat, or if I have picked up a bug. A small piece of fish was quite enough for me tonight, with nothing else.

After dark, we cracked a bottle of Yellow – bought from Yellowglen at Ballarat. This much travelled bubbly celebrated our first ever feed of barra.

Then John hung up the shower bag from the roof rack and removed all fishy traces from himself. At least, he does not have to worry about an audience here.

There were lots of frogs hopping around camp and many bush night noises again, but we slept well.