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Rowey's Blog - Sea fog and no fish at Port Clinton

 

 

I Went out off Port Clinton on Sunday for some winter Whiting and squid. I was warned by some of my fishing cobbers that the water was clear and a light easterly blowing. You’re wasting you time, they said.

I had the Sunday off and had a mate I promised to take out. So we did.

 

We hooked up at 6am, drove to Port Clinton in the middle of massive fog. My mate drove down from the Barossa and left his tailgate open. By the time he got to Two Wells he lost his tackle box, a couple of rods, and our lunch that was in an eskie. Great start.

 

We launched with the tractor at around 7:45am, with high tide set to arrive at 9:44am, so we had a couple of hours to get amongst the Whiting. There was a light easterly blowing 3 to 5 knots, and the water was crystal clear.

 

I have about 10 marks, all natural grounds in the Wakefield Gutter. With the tide, easing, not a lot going our way. We moved around to seven different marks and didn’t get so much as a bite. So I pulled up the pick and headed to deeper water closer to Ardrossan. Again we moved around to a number of marks, all on natural bottoms in 45 to 60 feet of water.

 

The tide started to run in again at around 11am, and finally, at long last, we got some bites. Five Red Mullet and two undersized whiting that all went back in the water.

 

At around midday, as you can see by the videos, the sea fog rolled right up the top of the gulf. So thick was the fog that we could only see about 10 meters in front of us.

 

So we moved to the proof range to get a feed of squid. I’ve been told that they’re everywhere at the moment, but after two long hours of drifting, and using every different colour jig I had on the boat, we couldn’t even get one bloody squid.

 

With our luck completely out, we decided to call it a day, and got our mate to retrieve us off Port Clinton with the tractor. To cap off a pretty ordinary day I dropped the winch handle in the water. However it was still 100 times better than raking the winter leaves, picking up dog crap or holding hands with the trouble and strife. Well played, S. Rowe, well played.

 

 

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