No Better Place on Earth — Shaun Cooper

James Sinnamon helping solve the riddles.

NO BETTER PLACE ON EARTH

Shaun Cooper tell his story about an educative day chasing reluctant Western Lakes browns.

I am often asked if I have crossed paths with the young guru known as James Sinnamon in my travels in the western lakes. Somehow I had not, maybe because we both deliberately avoid crowds whilst fishing. But recently I did catch him perusing the aisles in our local fly store and quickly we realised we are on the same page and a trip was planned.

We arrived at the car park on the plateau at the gentlemanly hour of 5am with high anticipation of having the whole place to ourselves. It was a Tuesday, but had been pipped at the post by three other cars. This was not going to ruin our mood as we knew the forecast was for blue skies and 22 degrees which in October is a real luxury.

After a brisk jaunt up the valley we saw the sight no fly fisher of this area enjoys seeing — tents — three of them! Oh, the pain! Still, we weren’t to be deterred as we knew in this weather we could cover ground quickly with fantastic polaroiding conditions and make our way to more secluded waters.

By 12pm we had sighted at least a dozen fish and set what we thought were more than adequate traps but the fish had other ideas. We began to have the thought that many an angler has had before, imagine ‘donutting’ on a day like today. These thoughts were enough to force us to stop, have a lunch break and re-assess our plan.

We had thrown stick caddis and scud at them to no avail by this stage and decided that if we were going to be refused it may as well be on a dry fly. Our standard 9ft leaders were changed to 15ft x 5lb and lighter, in the hope that we could give ourselves a bigger window with a more subtle presentation. Hedging our bets, James tied on a proven performer — a Black Spinner and I went with a fly I have supreme confidence in — a variant of a WMD hopper, size 14.

This was surely a winning recipe. The next fish was spotted from quite a distance away sitting stationary on the edge of a weed bed in the middle of a bay. In hindsight we should have really known that to be able to see this fish from that distance that it was going to be a sizeable fish. But being buoyed by the hope of our newly hatched plan we quickly made our way down to the lakes edge to set our trap.

We had pretty well lost count by this stage of whose turn it was at this fish after countless failures. James was given the task of showing this fish that we had figured out what he wanted. He made his way round to the northern flank of him to maximise the sun’s assistance.

Robert Traver on trout fishing. I think this explains Tasmania’s Western Lakes perfectly. “I fish because I love to. Because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly. Because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape. Because in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing what they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion. Because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed, or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility, and endless patience. Because I suspect that men are going this way for the last time and I for one don’t want to waste the trip. Because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters. Because in the woods I can find solitude without loneliness.... And finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important, but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant and not nearly so much fun.”

The light breeze was creating a slight ripple to mask Jame’s movements and his Black Spinner was delivered perfectly with a subtle, but recognisable dimple. The fish turned and made his way over and, REFUSED.

The looks exchanged across the lagoon were quite animated until we realised the fish had not been spooked and was in fact swimming directly at James with what seemed like pure arrogance. This left us with the age-old conundrum and to James’ credit he passed the fish off to me as any movement on his side would spook him for sure.

Whilst the fish was parked no more than a metre away from poor old James, I laid the trusty old hopper off to the fish’s left side in hope of drawing him away and back toward the centre of the lagoon, the fish obliged and upon close inspection of the fly he again REFUSED. We were at our wits end and to top it off he sauntered back to the bay in front of us which was no more than 10m wide and began to do laps between us. the stand-off had begun!

James and I performed our best impersonation of a statue, tying on a fly in the hope we could get another crack at him before it was too late. But as was the theme of the day, another complication was added in the form of a second fish coming to join the party.

After what seemed like an eternity they both swam slowly off together to my left out into the ripple line of the main lagoon. This did give me one last crack. I presented a size 16 possum emerger between the two fish in hope it would entice a competitive strike from the larger fish and finally, luck went our way!

A take at last, the water erupted and we immediately realised this fish was much larger than we had anticipated. This was a fish the crystal-clear headwaters of our western lakes are renowned for.

After some rock hopping, wet feet and some knocking knees the fish was in the net for a quick couple of pics before he swam off strongly.

Why did it take the Possum Emerger? Was it the longer leader, the smaller fly size or perhaps the mud applied to the tippet to reduce glare? Or perhaps the rippled section of water the fish swam into made the difference.

One thing I know for sure is; the benefit of two sets of eyes and a cool head from your mate keeping you calm whilst you nervously tie another fly on helps.

After the celebrations had eased and the fish was now too far out of sight to see we continued on with the monkey off our backs. Up over the hill to the next lake we went with a spring in our steps. The next leg of the trip we knew we would have water to ourselves.

James was now on a mission to turn the tide on these fussy fish and the first fish he found was parked facing away from us with a large rock obstructing it’s view, our luck was beginning to change, James laid out a woolly worm and the result was instant, a nice wild Tasmanian brown was again in our net and swiftly released.

After checking the time we realised that we had a big walk ahead of us and began making our way back when another fish was found cruising mid-way in the water column and looking up, with the water beginning to chop up as a result of the afternoon breeze James tied on a foam beetle pattern which was too much for the hungry brown to refuse. Again a healthy brown was brought to hand and after a mandatory hand shake he was set free.

Now I could spill a load of technical jargon such as thermoclines, barometric pressures and an in-depth understanding of entomology which would be rubbish as I have a very limited understanding of any of them.

However, I do believe if something is not working, don’t flog a dead horse. Be a problem solver and back yourself to figure it out. Change tactics, tippet, flies, presentations and anything else you can think of. In time you are bound to turn around a bad day.

In my opinion there is no better place on earth to wander around on a blue-sky day and watch a trout refuse your fly. Success with these fish comes and goes. They can be the toughest fish — and the most rewarding. It can be a long walk between fish, but they are worth it. Shaun Cooper

James Sinnamon thinks it is worth the walk.