Nowadays, living near Coffs Harbour, which is less than two hours from Armidale, it's been an impatient wait for some free time to link up with Matt Graham again; and get stuck into some of the great freshwater fishing that exists both sides of the Great Dividing Range; upon which Armidale sits.

Arriving at Matt and Millie's house just in time for dinner on Friday night, we spent a memorable evening eating, drinking, and exchanging fishing and hunting stories; all the time with Matt psyching up two cod beginners with stories of massive fish caught just the previous week.

With so many great cod spots up his sleeve, the decision of exactly where we would fish was a collaborative one, eventually tipped Gwydir River way by a mate of Matt's; Mike Wagner, a Bundarra local who that week had done really well on the cod in the Gorge country to the South West of Copeton Dam. As well as getting numbers of fish in the 2 to 5 kilo range, there was also a confirmed story of a lure caught 30 kilo fish over the previous weekend.

An average Namoi cod

Before we hit the sack that Friday night, both Mike Colless and myself were beginning to wonder whether our lures, line classes, rods, and leaders would really be up to the sort of trench warfare you'd expect when going toe to toe with a big cod. Bringing a range of tackle with us, it was Matt who gave the nod on 14lb gel-spun line, 10 kilo leaders, ABU 1500's , and an Ian Miller Ultimate Boomer Bass rod that was to be my chosen weapon, and a GL3 Loomis C662 which was to be Mike's.

A pre-dawn start, and a 2 hour drive soon had us pig spotting as we low-ranged- it into the Gwydir Gorge country in Matt's Zebra painted Bushcruiser, packed to the roof with fishing and camping gear. The plan for the day was to hike and fish our way upstream, and then turn around and fish our way home until dark. Lure choice for the trip pretty well ranged from Oar-Gee Plow to Oar-Gee to Oar-Gee Plow.

Feeling that some sort of Wayne Lennon(Oar-Gee lure maker) conspiracy was under way, and not owning a Plow of my own, I was the odd man out. I opted for an alternating combination of green bass viper, and a new deep diving Deception Shrimp that Paul Kneller had slipped me a few weeks prior while down at Glenbawn Dam.

Hiking and casting is great fun but hard work

With expectations high, it took us no time at all to extract the fishing gear, get changed, buckle into haversacks, and start out on what was hopefully going to be an experience to remember. As expected the first large pool closest to where the 4WD track met the river looked great, but as I was told it often does, it produced nothing; although it was hardly suprising considering the hammering it coped by set liners and non-catch and release lure tossers.

Little did we know as we past it by, offering only a few almost disrespectful half-hearted casts, this pool was to provide an unexpected prize later in the day.

With only a minimal amount of water being released from Copeton, the river was a series of pools with small runs of water linking them. It didn't take us long to work out that most of the smaller cod were in the moving water at the heads of pools, with the larger fish probably down deep under ledges and boulders in the main pool bodies.

An experienced cod angler, it became pretty obvious why Mike Wagner wore a wet suit, on walk and cast trips like this. For a start, to make our way upstream we had to cross the river many times to avoid unwalkable banksides, and secondly to get casts into the deep and dark corners of pools, swimming to, and casting from, mid stream boulders, was a definite advantage.

Continued...

Not surprisingly it was Mike who scored the first two fish; small western cod, both less than a couple of kilos, and both taken from the fast water at the head of the second pool we hit. The third fish was mine, a real baby, taken over a deep water ledge on a green Bass Viper; and like most cod it hit hard giving a good account of itself early before the big mumma cod drag setting subdued it.

Improvisation goes a long way in the boulder country

As we moved further away from camp, the walking got tougher, and as you'd expect, the fishing got better. While we stopped to eat lunch, Mike went swim casting and picked up yet another nice cod, this time under an otherwise unreachable overhanging tree.

My ham and tomato sanga had hardly touched down when I nailed my biggest cod for the day; a beautifully proportioned fish that eventually nailed the Deception Shrimp, but only after I'd cast it on top of the same partially submerged rock no less than five times in succession!

We were beginning to learn that the next pool syndrome had to be resisted, and plenty of accurate casts at structure eventually payed dividends, provided you're patient enough.

While Matt took pictures of my fish, the two Mikes had moved up to the head of the next pool, and by the time we arrived, were both hooked up to solid little cod at around 2 kilo a piece. This was Mike Colless's first ever western cod, and from then on it was as though the flood gates were opened, as he then went on through patient and accurate casting, to catch the next three fish, culminating in the best cod for the day so far.

When you're walking and casting in groups of two or three anglers, there's always a temptation to try to race each other to the next pool, something which we'd already decided we wouldn't do. Instead, we took our time and worked each pool over thoroughly before moving on, and then taking turns at being first cast into new water.

The hard luck story for the day was Matt, who'd only brought along a fly rod for the trip, and after watching us catch fish all day, decided to have a few casts himself, immediately hooking a good cod on a home made fly; only to pull out before we got a look at what seemed like a solid fish. The other hard luck story was my little ABU 1500, which after my second fall for the day, now had a handle that wrapped around the reel like cling wrap.

Matt Graham releasing a solid cod

Pool side reel repairs out of the way, no sooner had we started to fish our way back, when a thunder storm and short, sharp down pour of rain, turned the rock surfaces to ice. Not that it bothered the other three guys, but my high centre of gravity, pack, and basic "unco-ness" that comes with a 2metre frame was making the walk back pretty difficult. After "air walk" number three for the day, watching me became part of the sport; as I sat there and I checked to see that all my appendiges were still working, I would have gladly swapped all my fishing gear for a good pair of felt soled boots.

The rain and thunder made the first leg of the walk back memorable for the wrong reasons, but it wasn't too long before we started to pick up fish. Most were caught down deep on casts that had been thrown tight against boulders, but with the fish not hitting until the lure was well down. With the sun starting to set and camp no more than half a kilometre away, we finally clipped away our lures, and increased our walking pace.

Our last stop would be the last big pool just before home. The pool itself was classic big cod water, deep and long, with a couple of massive boulders to one side of it. The sort of pool the really big fish would naturally take up safe refuge in a falling river. One boulder in particular was the size of a small house, and it was to the base of this that Mike Wagner and I cast our lures. Mike's Oar-Gee Plow had already landed and he was just starting into his retrieve, while I was still airborne.

Continued...

It's amazing how in fishing(as in life) so much can change in the twinkling of an eye. Between aiming, casting, and landing; to my right I noticed the yellowish hue of a carp rolling on the surface; and to my left I saw Mike get slammed in the sort of strike that to any one who calls themselves a fisherman, leaves whatever the positive version is, of a mental scar. It was something I'll remember for life; something that for that moment made time stand still.

Mike Colless with a nice cod

Everything about the hookup spelt big fish, the flatlined rod, the uncontrollable exodus of line, and the outstretched arms of Mike as he tried to smooth out the jarring gel-spun run.
How Mike stopped the cod getting back under the house boulder I'll never know, but by the time I'd grabbed the camera, the first run was over, and massive upwellings from down deep were reaching the surface of the dark, still water.

With Matt at his side, the battle raged; trying to coerce a fish of this size into the sandy shallows on baitcaster tackle was not a easy thing to do. The closest I could relate to what was going on, was trying to get a big jew over the shore dump, and finally onto the beach. The moment you work against the momentum surge, it's all over, but with skilled rod work Mike soon had the massive cod grounded in the shallows, where the welcome arms of Matt were waiting.

How big the bluestone coloured cod was, we're not really sure(probably 15 to 20 kilos?), there's no doubt this one had been pretty well fed up on the carp that were also in the pool. The thing that blew me away was the size of its mouth; why it bothered eating such a small thing as a lure I'm not sure; a duck, carp, or small marsupial would be a more realistic meal.

A solid Gwydir cod

Like all the 14 cod we'd caught and released throughout the day, this big fella behaved perfectly for the camera before release. It was interesting to note the white discolouration on the tops of his dorsal and tail fins, caused I'm sure while finning on the roof of the underwater cave that he calls home.

How anyone in the name of food could kill a fish of such beauty and uniqueness is beyond me. The hole where we'd just caught and put the cod back into, is normally hammered by set liners and catch and kill lure tossers, our only hope was that the big fella had learnt from the experience, and was only holed up here waiting for the next rain to move on.

After the day we'd just had, the sight of the rubbish strewn camp site was a real downer, and before we had dinner that night we collected 8 full garbage bags of beer bottles and assorted litter left by fishermen. It seems that whether you're on the Coast or out West, some things never change.
In the morning we broke camp, and drove out and into the more backed up waters above Copeton Dam, and here Mike Colless and myself used a canoe to paddle around and throw lures at the riverside timber. It wasn't until the afternoon that things started to happen, a small land locked billabong was the first to produce, not cod, but some good sized redfin that were keen to snaffle even the largest of our lure offerings, the biggest was 42cm. After we'd stretched our legs and caught enough redfin for the kitchen, we got back into the canoe to hammer the snags as the sun set.

Even though we were now going over water we'd fished in the morning, in the now windless conditions and afternoon light the whole place smelt a lot more like fish. Three casts later, and a rod that had been lifeless all day, almost ended up in the drink, jarring to life as a big cod shot out of cover to slam the Deception Shrimp as it skirted an underwater log.

With some of the most serious drag the little bait caster had ever been asked to dish out, I only just managed to stop the big western from getting back into the wood. With Mike working the paddle on the front of the canoe, and the stern moving under cod power, we spent a nervous few minutes trying to control the 10 kilo fish without going for a swim ourselves. With my camera out of film and the cod subdued at the side of the canoe, the only chance for a pic was Matt's camera, and he was half a kilometre back down the river doing some walk-and-cast fishing.

So with the big cod swimming happily along in tow we headed down stream, on the way passing a couple of bait fishermen, who after seeing the whole episode unfold, were now looking at us really strangely. Finally reaching Matt with my trebles just about straightened, it was fitting that we finished what had been a short but exciting trip, with yet another cod photo session and release.