Winter Bream Fishing in the Otways

Okay, I love rain and benefits it brings to our lakes and rivers. And at this time of year, cloudy skies coupled with low temperatures mean almost zero evaporation. Much of south-eastern Australia has enjoyed (or should that be endured?) this combination for the last month and a half and it’s been great for run-off and recharging the water table. But as much as I can see the good in such weather, I think my repeated line of ‘well it’s going to mean a great fishing season ahead’, has begun sounding a little shrill. The thought of just a little sun, a little warmth and a break from the wind has been growing in appeal.

The weather was the kindest it had been for weeks.

We got lucky with the weather.

A week out, that trifecta was looking unlikely for our semi-regular winter bream trip. Snow was even promised for the tops of the Otway Ranges Thursday night, and we were arriving on Friday. Then a remarkable thing happened. For the first time in six weeks, the big high pressure system that had languished to the west, suddenly decided to rouse itself, move several hundred kilometres east, then doze off again right on top of Apollo Bay. We had four days of double digit temperatures, light winds and even patches of sun. I took my beanie off most days and the Goretex jacket spent the entire trip unloved in the bottom of my daypack. It felt wonderful.

The bream weren't easy to come by, but most were good fish.

The bream weren’t easy to come by, but most were good fish.

The fishing was intriguing, which any regular angler immediately recognises as just another way of saying it wasn’t easy. The rivers we focussed on – the Aire and the Barham – were in surprisingly good condition given all the rain and storm surges preceding our arrival. Visibility was at least 2 feet and although a lot of sand had been shifted by the ridiculous seas, there were still plenty of holes, channels, reefs and weedbeds to explore. Yet the bream were patchy; or at least picky. Although exact fly pattern didn’t seem all that critical, fly weight did. More than ever, we had to fish very close to the bottom to interest the fish. Even then, we seemed to miss a lot of takes. You might charitably assume that indicated unconvinced or lethargic bream, although Max made the point that maybe when you’re not catching lots of fish, you notice those you miss all the more.

Max and egret displaying the same body language - always a good sign!

Max and egret displaying the same body language – always a good sign on a fishing trip!

But for all that, we had a ball. The dozen or so bream we landed between us were of a better-than-average size; most were 35 – 45 cm and none were less than thirty. Max also hooked and lost something that he said felt bigger than any bream he’d encountered – no idle comment coming from a man who did land a 3 pound plus bream. Mulloway? Big sea trout? Not knowing is at once frustrating and fascinating. We’ll just have to go back and find out!

Even the smaller models were well worth catching.

Even the smaller models were well worth catching.