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Warren Steptoe takes us to the Queensland/New South Wales border rivers for two good news stories about a true icon of Australian fishing.
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f all our Aussie fishing icons, the Murray cod is not only the largest, but is also the most widespread. Or was! Across the Murray Darling Basin where the Murray cod lives, a million square kilometres of inland Australia and 14 per cent of our total land area is shamefully degraded. Estimates widely accepted amongst the scientific community place the Murray/Darling’s fish population at around ten per cent of pre-white settlement levels. Governments endlessly debate what’s to be done, then do precious little about it. Meanwhile, the Murray cod and its fellow inland fish species continue to decline. Murray cod are already listed as an endangered species in Victoria, a rare one in South Australia, and are considered to be vulnerable nationally. It’s a sad situation with more than enough doom and gloom to sadden any freshwater fish enthusiast’s heart — and it poses questions about whether responsible people should fish for Murray cod at all. This story offers two answers to those questions. One has to do with a Murray
cod fishery in a dam (Glenlyon, near the Queensland/New South Wales border,) where Murray cod have been stocked for some years, have reached impressive sizes and can be fished with a clear conscience without imposing on
and silver perch fingerlings. Some 153,418 cod have been put into the dam over the years, but whether the cod fishing now on offer is entirely the result of that is one of the really interesting things about Glenlyon’s cod population.
So amongst all the bad news about Murray cod, I present to you two good news stories! ‘wild’ fish stocks. The other answer is a different situation altogether. It’s about a bunch of people who got fed up with the inaction so widely practised by bureaucrats in the five states Murray cod inhabit and set out to do something about it themselves. What they’ve achieved already is hugely encouraging, and what’s most exciting about their achievement is that it utilises the unusual strategy of going fishing. So amongst all the bad news about Murray cod, I present to you two good news stories! Glenlyon Dam has been stocked with Murray cod since the 1980s, when fishing clubs in nearby Stanthorpe and Tenterfield began buying cod, golden perch (usually referred to by their other common name of yellowbelly)
Just about every Glenlyon regular, myself included, has seen cod engaging in ‘spawning behaviour’. In fact, the sight of some pretty awesome size cod ‘fooling around’ has become something of a tourist attraction for people prepared to waste an hour or two walking along the road across the dam wall during August and September. Similar behaviour is reported from other impoundments with Murray cod populations, so there’s little doubt Murray cod are breeding in dams, including Glenlyon. But the $64,000 question is whether there’s any recruitment of juvenile cod as a result. While varying opinions are offered amongst interested fisheries biologists about this, there’s little concrete evidence as to how many are surviving.
Bob Lawes with a ‘smaller’ cod caught while chasing ‘the big one’. Fish of this size are pretty impressive, but with green fish the big one’s what it’s all about. 60
Read the article and tell us what Chappy’s doing wrong in this shot. Photographically, the lighting looks best from the sun side of a drowned ironbark, but fish holding in this mighty good-looking piece of structure are probably going to be lurking in the shade cast on the other side of it.
What there’s no doubt about though, is how good the cod fishing has become over the past few years. I’ve been fishing Glenlyon and the nearby rivers for over 25 years, and where once you’d see an odd cod come out of the dam, nowadays they’re caught regularly. Mark Lintermans’ book Fishes of the Murray-Darling Basin published in co-operation with the Murray-Darling Basin Authority in 2009 credits Murray cod as growing to “113.6kg and 1800mm length”, so there’s plenty of potential for big fish here. The photos of Glenlyon fish illustrating this story are way short of that. In fact, when compared to the brag board at the Glenlyon Dam Tourist Park overlooking the dam, they’re hardly remarkable. Murray cod haven’t developed an accepted definition of ‘big’ the way 50cm bass and
metre barra have, but I’d suggest any cod over 10kg is a highly desirable capture to have on any fishing CV. Some of the fish coming out of Glenlyon are way bigger than that, so I guess there’s no need to say much more, is there? Back in the late 1980s and early ’90s when stocking first fired Glenlyon Dam up, its fishing revolved around thumper golden perch, with a few silver perch and the odd cod thrown in. From there the fishing matured to become largely a food fishery. For some years across the first decade of the new millennium, the tourist park was almost the preserve of grey nomads and a motley assortment of other crusty characters there to put “a few yellabelly” and maybe some silvers and/or a cod or two in the freezer. That’s changing again now, as Glenlyon’s cod fishing comes of age since a few regulars
figured out what makes cod in the dam tick — and have been having a very good time indeed! The thing with Queensland’s impoundment fisheries is that without people catching fish there’s no money to buy more fish to keep the fishery going. Thankfully, Glenlyon’s gurus realise this and haven’t been too secretive about their methods. So at this point it’s appropriate to thank Les Riebelt, Craig Felmingham, Joe Profke, and particularly Brian Dare for sharing their wisdom with us. As some readers would know, Brian and his wife Debbie own Glenlyon Dam Tourist Park, so they have a vested interest in people coming there to fish for cod. However, it’s equally true that ‘Darie’ is more passionate about green fish than anyone else I’ve ever met. Speaking as a mate of his I’m sure others who know Brian will agree he’s worse than passionate about cod, he’s bloody crazy about them — and Deb’s not far behind. A more than capable cod fisherman himself, Brian Dare is Glenlyon’s ringmaster. He’s always got his finger firmly on the pulse as to what’s going on in the dam. Brian can be a bit hyperactive, and spends similar amounts of time fishing for cod and preaching their doctrine to anyone who will listen; and sometimes whether they’re listening or not! And poor Debbie has to live with him... Brian and Debbie are also responsible for kick-starting a research project into Murray cod in a stretch of the Dumaresq (pronounced Dewmerrick) River along the Queensland/ NSW border. This involves over 50 people gathering at the park twice a year to fish the river for a day. All the cod caught are measured and tagged and a fin clip taken before they’re released. The fin clip is to enable research into the population’s genetic make-up. Over four years so far out of a planned five year project lifespan, it’s been determined that Dumaresq cod are much slower growing than other populations and are sexually mature at smaller sizes. Interestingly, though, a monster flood in January 2011 brought a notable spike in growth rates, which have showed up in tag recoveries since. Senior fisheries scientists from both Queensland and NSW Fisheries management bodies are involved and I’m delighted to report that the boffins are to a man as much personally committed to this project as they’re professionally obliged to be there. They also seem to enjoy themselves as much as the rest of us! Pre-eminent Murray cod scientist Stuart Rowland has even continued to attend after retirement. He says he comes for the fishing... Funding has been tight all along (cash hasn’t been forthcoming from any federal or state sources, the whole budget so far being 61
fishing future — with or without help from the bureaucrats. I think Brian and Debbie Dare deserve a medal or something for their initiative — not to mention a good holiday after the staggering logistical effort involved in feeding and housing 50 odd people for two days twice a year. Cod live in the border rivers upstream almost to the New England Highway that runs more or less along the Great Divide’s crest. There’s a lot of water here in streams like Pike and Tenterfield creeks, and in the Mole, Severn and Dumaresq rivers. All of them get together to become the Dumaresq River near the historic locality of Mingoola, about 15km from the dam. Once these streams have all combined, the river is big enough to require canoes for fishing, but the best way to fish upstream is usually to walk. Access to streams to fish is a curly one everywhere inland. As always, most of this area is private property and gaining permission to access the water can be difficult. A good road map and some exploring will, however, find quite a few road crossings where a canoe can be slipped into the water. There’s also an extensive network of travelling stock reserves throughout the region. There’s Sundown National Park (upstream and to the east of Glenlyon and the reach of the Dumaresq being researched) where quality cod fishing is available if you’re prepared for the strenuous walking and rock scrambling involved in getting to it. A plastic canoe is best in this area because runs between pools can be very shallow between water releases from the dam, and the rough shingle river bed knocks fibreglass canoes around pretty badly.
derived from the Queensland Murray-Daring Committee). Significantly, a genetic study to look at whether the Dumaresq population is wild fish or from a multitude of cod stockings in the river over many years — probably the most important aim of the research — has yet to be funded at all. This information is especially important on these border rivers because water releases from Glenlyon to irrigate crops further downstream are cooler than the river would naturally be, and it’s thought that the changed temperature regime is interfering with the local breeding cycle. Still, the whole exercise shows what a bunch of keen fishos can actually do for our 62
Big lures equal big fish. The Glenlyon gurus all bulk up their spinnerbaits by sliding a soft plastic tail onto the hook. Look at the size of the gob on this fish; big lures aren’t going to put it off. They may, however, influence your chances of scoring the golden perch often caught ‘incidentally’ in Glenlyon.
Sunshine Coast sportfisher Bob Lawes persisted for some time before finally scoring the green fish he was after. Murray cod this size are deservedly amongst our real fishing icons and opportunities to target them without impacting precious wild stocks are something to treasure.
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Fishing Glenlyon Dam requires a suitable lure-casting platform, preferably with an electric for fine control amongst dense stands of drowned eucalypt scrub. The trick amongst the timber is to sort the better trees out from the forest. The ugly mug in the Hornet’s bow is Craig Felmingham, one of a handful of pioneering lure fishers who figured out how to capitalise on Glenlyon’s burgeoning cod population.
Few of the people fishing for the research project use anything but spinnerbaits or cottage-crafted hard-bodied cod lures and given that this would surely be an unprecedented gathering of cod fishing expertise, there must be a message there. Another sure indication of how good cod fishing in the border rivers region has always been, is the amazing number of cod lures that have been developed here and in Tenterfield, about 70km from the dam. Just why Tenterfield has produced more lure craftsmen than anywhere else I’ve ever heard of is one of those good questions. To me and many of
the other people who gather for the research project, part of the real charm of cod fishing is using locally designed and hand-crafted lures. Lure collecting has become quite a big thing and plugs from the likes of the late Peter Newell, Brett Campbell and Trevor McFeeters fetch gob-smacking amounts of money these days. Brett is still at work with his Stanley knife, and the best traditions of hand-crafted lures in Tenterfield carry on with Terry Marshall. Darren Mitten, Tom Barrat and Travis Powell. The kiosk at the tourist park, funnily enough, is a wonderland for handcrafted
lure enthusiasts. I doubt I’ve ever been there without adding to my collection. My ‘cod box’ is full of locally carved lures, which would probably be worth a fortune if they weren’t so scratched and battered. I won’t bother elaborating how they got that way! On the dam, cod lures have evolved to be generally larger and deeper diving than those used on the river. Big lures attract big fish and unless you prefer to hedge your bets by using lures small enough for the golden perch so often caught incidentally, a ‘bigger is better’ sentiment prevails. In either case, good lures have an action strong enough to shake the rod violently at super slow retrieve speeds. On the dam you’re usually fishing much deeper water and although I hesitate to tell a bunch of acknowledged lure making geniuses how to design lures, precious few hard-bodied cod lures run shallow enough to fish most of the pools in the rivers. Call it old fashioned, but I prefer hard-bodied cod lures any day, but use spinnerbaits a lot because they can be allowed to sink, or not sink far, as you see fit. That’s a real advantage to lure presentation in water that’s rarely deeper than a couple of metres and often much shallower. Like most impoundments, Glenlyon Dam contains massive stands of drowned timber. It also has extensive areas of rocky structure suitable for cod and golden perch
Bob Lawes has had a bad case of cod addiction happening lately. Here he poses with a neat golden perch caught ‘incidentally’ while chasing cod in Glenlyon.
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Local grazier Anton Volker shows off a golden from the river. Once common but for many years uncommon, goldens have rebounded remarkably since major flooding throughout the region in January, 2011.
Years ago, Glenlyon was known for producing some thumper goldens. This 2kg fish would be about average today. If it were a bass, everyone would be impressed. Look at this fish then and wonder why golden perch never been given due credit — they really are quite something.
habitat, and depending on the time of year and water levels, sometimes-expansive weed beds. Standard snag bashing techniques and the understanding of water flow dynamics stream fishos develop on species as varied as bass, mangrove jacks, and northerners like jungle perch and sooty grunter will find and catch Murray cod in any river. Rivers can be read like a book, but dams are a bit different and Glenlyon’s no exception in this respect. In dams you have to get your head around the lack of water flow (or at least easily perceivable water flow), proliferation of structure, and sheer volume of water. With some thought though, you can whittle out places more likely to hold fish from those less likely. You could describe it as ‘seeing the trees amongst the forest’ when you’re looking at many hectares of drowned eucalypt woodland.
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Thinking in terms of places a predator can lurk waiting for prey narrows the search for dam cod perhaps more than species like bass and barra, which quite happily leave structure and pursue food in open water when the mood
takes them. When cod fishing, this ‘waiting zone’ invariably involves structure of some type placed anywhere that prey gather, or must travel past. Bony bream are abundant in Glenlyon and
Are they our best looking freshwater fish? Well, maybe not better than others, but even a little cod like this one is pretty much unstoppable for those first few seconds when they hit a lure like a runaway truck. Lure collectors please ignore the chipped and scratched Brett Campbell original it ate.
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are a favoured cod food, so thinking where they will be is a good way of finding a cod intent on feeding on them. Bonies like to graze on filamentous algae growing on drowned timber, rocky structure and weed beds, so any place a cod can wait for them, or as they travel past on their way to graze, is an obviously good place to cast a lure. Cod are particularly fond of lying in the shade, so keeping an eye on which way the light’s falling and where it’s forming shadows is something to keep in mind when approaching structure and placing casts. A light bulb moment of my own occurred when I cottoned onto the effect lower sun angles have on shade. Even a vertical tree trunk casts a great triangle of cod-hiding darkness when the sun is lower to the horizon. When you add a mass of branches, cod will hold surprising distances from structure. I can’t imagine ‘snag’ fish standing on their head beside a vertical tree trunk and any substantial horizontal timber always gets a few extra casts in my boat. Nonetheless, when the shadow is cast well out to one side, a lurking cod can happily lay some distance away and still be in the shade. This is one style of structure fishing where the best cast isn’t necessarily the one that lands right up against it. How far a cod will venture after prey from
Grazier Scott Caithness lifts a Dumaresq River cod back over the side. It’s been measured, tagged, and had a genetic sample removed as part of a research project into the river’s cod population initiated by Brian and Debbie Dare from the campground overlooking Glenlyon Dam. That’s no ciggie hanging out of his mouth either — that’s the genetic sample in a tube of preservative. Let’s hope the lid stays on!
where they’re lying in wait depends on how hungry they are. Hungry cod are exceptionally aggressive and your lure getting belted to hell and back the instant it touches the water is one of cod fishing’s great experiences. A popular theory has it that they tend to be more aggressive during ‘banker’s hours’, making the early starts and after dark returns to camp beloved of bass fishers like myself debatable. Something I did note in common amongst the Glenlyon mob is persistence. They’ll all stay and flog what they consider to be a good ‘waiting place’ long after patience wears thin. Then come back and fish it just as persistently until they score. And they’ll fish a productive waiting place every time they’re out on the dam because if a cod’s in residence once, chances are either that fish, or another one, will be there next time. Experiences on the river during the research when two canoes are fishing each allotted section backs the ‘persistence pays’ sentiment up too. Impatience says the first few casts into a good looking snag are most likely to gain a response, but many times I’ve seen the canoe following the other one along a stretch of snags score first. Craig Felmingham is particularly strong on fishing different depths. He’ll systematically count a spinnerbait down until he’s covered the whole water column around standing structure, or progressively cast hard-bodied diving lures further and further past it with each cast to allow them to dive deeper and deeper. Les Riebelt became disgruntled with
Steve ‘Chappy’ Chapman with a magically green marbled Dumaresq River cod taken from Steptoe’s canoe. Cod bigger than this are rare from the border rivers these days, but there are still enough monsters about to keep life interesting.
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Les Kowitz is XO for Queensland’s umbrella freshwater fishing organisation FFSAQ. He’s also Steptoe’s bow man for the Dumaresq cod project. Poor bloke.
commercially available spinnerbaits and developed his own, with big Colorado blades for maximum impact at slow retrieve speeds. Les also bulks his whirligigs up with multiple skirts. Craig habitually adds a soft plastic lure tail to the hook to add even more substance to them. For those of us who can’t help experimenting, it seems there’s work to be done with sinking bibless rattling lures fished with a variety of vertical and horizontal presentations. These things make an unprecedented racket and produce plenty of fish-attracting flash. The only problem is their propensity to snag-up. I’ve been using rattlers when fishing shade somewhat away from structure and that may well eventuate to be their best role. In any case, a good lure retriever or two is all that stands between any tackle box and substantial financial losses when chemically-sharpened hooks pin the heavily textured timber so common on Glenlyon. I carry both an extendable pole and a ‘down the line’ sinking retriever and still lose an odd lure to the trees. A final hint? Rig your lure retriever on heavy nylon trace material. For one thing it doesn’t tangle up like braided cord does on lure retrievers. And for another it doesn’t cut your hands up so bad when a monster cod scoffs lure, retriever and all. So take some humility to Glenlyon. There’s nothing as ‘unstoppable’ as a decent size Murray cod and no rewards for pussyfooting around when one eats your lure. Green fish are a true icon in this country and a fishing experience not to be missed — with some nice golden surprises thrown in for good measure.
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