It was right in the heart of Winter that World ranked body boarder Steve Mackenzie and myself found ourselves up at Glenbawn Dam near Aberdeen in the Hunter Valley, biting at the bit to match horns, or at least get wiped out, by a Glenbawn "bulldozer"!

As broad as his fishing experiences were in the salt on fish from bream, jew, to striped marlin, until today, Steve had never been freshwater fishing before in his life.

During the two-hour drive West from the Central Coast, I went to great lengths to explain (and give myself a fall back position), that our chances of catching a bass in Glenbawn during Winter weren't high, but if we got one, it would be a good one.

During the Summer past the dam capacity at Glenbawn had been down below 40%, and apart from being a boom for lure gathering, it had kept the water temperature well up through the first part of Winter. I had also given those of us who hadn't seen it that low before, a good idea of what sort of free standing structures and weed beds, actually existed in the upper part of the dam. Of particular interest to me, was the tree lined course of the Old Hunter River, the river whose natural water catchment was first dammed back in 1958, and enlarged three fold in 1987, to create the 2614 hectare, 120,000 litre lake as we know it today.

As with most freshwater fisheries during the colder months, the diet of its, over half a million, stocked inhabitants (golden perch, silver perch, bass, and cod), changes from a Summer smorgasbord of terrestrial insects, aquatic insects, crustacea, and small fish; to one which, in Winter, is much less cosmopolitan, almost entirely made up of crayfish, shrimp, and fish.

In the case of the bass of Glenbawn Dam, the number one Winter food source are the large schools of Australian smelt (retropinna semoni), a small baitfish of around 5cm in length, which can breed in both the salt and fresh, and is one of the original inhabitants of the Old Hunter River. Add to the smelt, bottom dwelling freshwater gudgeons, shrimp, and bait-fisherman-introduced West-of-the-Divide-crayfish, and you've got one very full pantry to get even the most piggish bass through Winter.

During high pressure systems, smelt can be seen flickering on the water's surface, as they travel around the dam in large schools feeding on water flees, shrimp, and zoo plankton. Knowing, and adjusting your fishing to take into account this relationship between baitfish and bass, will significantly improve your chances of success, as it eventually did for us on this trip.

The Winter fishing techniques that are used at Glenbawn, involve a combination of trolling shallow divers-positioned down deep using down riggers, trolling deep divers straight off the rod tip, or casting mid-divers around snags on the perimeter of deepwater areas, preferably areas; that are holding baitfish.

On this particular Winter's day, we decided to spend the warm early afternoon period trolling deep divers along the Old River Bed, before heading back up to the main body of the dam, to give our rusty casting arms a work out; during the last couple of hours of light.

The afternoon's trolling session was certainly an enjoyable one, as we spent the greater part of 3 hours soaking up the sun's rays, while getting our lures as hard up against deepwater snags as the positioning of the boat would allow.

The use of gel-spun line, in combination with rod-in-the-hand, "no fear", lure positioning, is the key to triggering a response from fish, that by their nature are less active in the cooler water. Intelligent boat manoeuvring, which allows lures to cut corners and go under branches, is a red-hot troll technique.

Amazingly, as our well armed lures, precariously rattled their way along the tree lined fringes of what must have been a once magnificent looking river; getting hung up was a rarity.

This was in part because, by simply holding the rod slightly forward, and listening to what the X-75 and gel-spun line were telling us about the next obstacle, we were able to let a little bit of line drop back when the going got too tough, which was usually enough for our lures to rise a few centimetres, and out of harms way.

Continued...

It must have been at least two hours into the session, and during the hottest part of the afternoon, when we scored our first fish. Just before hookup, I'd manoeuvred the boat towards a single snag that was sitting in about 7 metres of water and right in the middle of one of the thickest patches of blue-green algae you're ever likely to see; at least during Winter.

After hours of expectant nothing, the strike came as a shock, although it was a typical golden ambush, happening just after the lure had bumped bottom, first a sharp hit that missed, and finally a second, which found the mark.

Throwing the boat into neutral, the "bulldozer" bass gear of Loomis GL3-C662, 20lb gelspun, 6 kilo leader, and suitably screwed up Chronach drag, knocked over the big medicine ball in a matter of seconds. At 46cm he was a nice fish, and hopefully an indication of better things to come.

Impressed with his first sight of an Australian freshwater native, Steve was keener than ever to catch and release his own, so we continued to troll for a while longer, but without any more success. Pulling in the troll gear, it was decided that if we wanted a big bass, one of the tree lined shores of main dam body, might be a better place to fish.

It was hard to imagine how any bass could live in the rancid-brown, and blue-green algae coated slime; we were currently pushing multi-coloured bow waves through.

As we headed back up the dam at full speed, we both kept an eye on the sounder looking for any signs of smelt activity, and the other on the look out for half submerged trees. Not that just smelt activity is the be-all and end-all of bass activity; we were also looking for water that was not too clear, but coloured enough (like weak tea), to make good ambush cover for predatory fish.

The main areas to avoid in Glenbawn during Winter are those, which are both clear and cold, and the two seem to go together. My mate Grantly, who coming from Singleton, can almost claim to be a local, reckons all things being equal, the best places to fish for bass in Glenbawn at any time of the year, are those that have had the most wave action and chop, during the course of a day.

In a nut shell, the place your mind says don't fish because it doesn't look glassed out enough, or has too much flotsam, is probably the area you should be hammering.

In the end we decided to spend the last few hours of daylight, casting our way along a 500 metre stretch of deep shoreline; a shoreline that had three heavily wooded-up bays hidden along its length. As Grant suggested, this side of the dam had been copping the chop from a light Westerly most of the day, as well as most of the available sunlight. As we sounded along part of its length, all the prerequisites looked good, the best news of all forecasted, when the X-75 lit up with good quantities of smelt 7 metres down, in about 15 metres of water.

It took us the first half hour to get into the casting groove, and as I drove the boat with the Johno electric from the bow, Steve had the full use of the stern to get his bait casting style fine-tuned. From past experiences, I knew that concentrating your efforts on trees that verge onto deep water, is far more productive than going into the backs of bays; bays which although they may look fishy, rarely produce Winter bass.

In Summer these same back waters produce great fishing, particularly with shallow divers and surface lures. But in the cooler months, the whole situation becomes more pelagic, with the bass preferring to hold up, and ambush smelt schools as they pass by the deep water entrances to bays, or on the outlying "sentry trees", that guard the mouths of bays, and deep water points.

Continued...

Probably because I'd been psyching Steve up so much about the bull dozing tactics of Glenbawn's bass, when the hit came, it was actually a bit of a non-event. At the time I was hanging off the tip of the bow, clearing my lure from a hang up, when from the back of the boat came a muffled, "I'm on". But as calmly as it may have all started, the nowadays familiar, but still skin crawling sound of gel-spun line cutting down into itself, told a different story.

Hooking big bass in Glenbawn, and getting them out, calls for fast and furious rod work. But years of chasing pigs and kings from the rocks, had prepared Steve well for this moment; he knew exactly what needed to be done. Leaning back into the rod with both arms out stretched, he not only cleared his line, but most importantly denied the big bass the chance to get back into the thick tree cover. Once brawled out, into what he thought was open water, Steve then had to work it around another sunken tree; a tree that in my excitement, I'd somehow managed to position the boat on top of.

Miraculously, with danger avoided, it was a case of "hope the small trebles held firm", as the big"boss"hog was pumped up to the surface. After a few more power dives that moved some serious amounts of freshwater, we got colour on one of the biggest bass; you're ever likely to see. With the 60mm Oar-Gee solidly hooked in the corner of its massive mouth, it made for one very impressive sight, and we took a few moments to gaze at it in the water, before Steve, as though he'd done it many times before, carefully reached over, and cradled his first ever bass into the boat.

At 475mm and built like tank, it was not the normal way to start a bass career. But then again, if you'd ever saw him surfing at Pipeline, or our own Shark Island on a big day, you'd soon realise that when it comes to water sports, Steve Mackenzie's not just your average human being. But in honour of all those die hard bass nuts, who I know are already a shade of green after looking at the pics in this article, let me assure you, that I didn't let him get away with it too easy; and if he didn't straight away, my ranting and raving soon made him realise, the significance of what he'd just caught.

You could fish a lifetime on most well known NSW bass rivers, and never catch a bass; if not that length, certainly not that well conditioned. As Steve was about to release his fish, I told him to take one last, long and hard look at it, because if there was any justice in this world, the rest of his bass career was going to be one big downhill run- how wrong I was!

Settling back into casting, our concentration and anticipation levels went through the roof, as we peppered every snag that looked remotely like the one Steve had pulled his fish.

As the sun dipped behind the hills, the coolness rising up from the water certainly reminded you of the time of year; and any illusions of Summer we may have had through the middle of what had been an unusually warm Winter day, soon vanished.

The next hookup was mine, and it came when I least expected it, on the end of a fairly ordinary cast that had fallen well short of where it was intended.

In reality this was a godsend, because when the monster hit, it was already a metre or so out from the snag; it now so desperately wanted to get back into. The hit itself was so savage, and near to the surface, that it, and the zero stretch gel-spun line and heavy drag setting, all combined to launch the bass out of the water; much like an over weight barramundi trying to get air.

Crackling line off as it ran down deep, the whole event was an adrenalin induced blur, and before I knew it there was a bass bigger than Steve's, doing power dives with its massive paddle of a tail, right next to the side of the boat.

After a season of river fishing, the size of the fish just didn't seem real, and after one more half-hearted dive, and the "hog" was back on the surface, ready to be claimed. But just as I was reaching down, the single treble tore out, and as quickly as it came into my life, the biggest bass I'd ever seen, was gone.

They say, "When it comes to fishing, anything's possible!" Steve proved this yet again, 10 minute later, when just as the full moon was taking over from were the sun had left off; he pulled into his second, and our last bass for the trip. This time the power was on from the word go, and after another take-no-prisoners-tussle, Steve had improved on his first fish, with a 490mm bulldozer!