While some may prefer the quiets of Gippsland or the high country, there are some experiences that can only happen to you in the 3000 postcodes .
This is such a tale.
I pitter pattered down to Albert park, as I have on many an occasion. It’s been getting a fair flogging off late between the stonkers and all the media coverage that it comes with.
This pressured fishery does keep evolving and with that the thinking angler does have to change his or her approach to keep up.
What worked in previous years is now harder to repeat and flighty fish are now the norm. That being said , if you do get into them they are still to be had.
What is still consistent however , is the absolute lottery that are the skills of the passing joggers photography capability.
On I went about , happier.
A nice mid 30’s EP popped up next, always pleased to see them. They do put up a fair fight
A pontoon is usually a reliable source of gold.
A lady was doing her evening stretches and was mid downward dog , bang in the middle of a pontoon , when a tidy cast along the shadows brought this specimen out .
She was startled and had to straighten up , much to my dismay.
Round the bend I went, buoyed by the prospect of what was turning into a tidy little session.
I stopped, as I always do. At the south end of the lake to take in the skyline. It’s remarkable how light pollution has increased has things have started to open up. We’d gone dark there for a bit.
A couple passed by and commented on how there are 20 pound cod in the lake that eat ducklings. And I believe them .
They were also dressed in black. Had tattoos , piercings of varied descriptions. Decorated in upside down crosses . And clearly had some sort of bouyed spirit within.
Maybe they knew something I didn’t ?
It’s not every day that I get fishing tips from the underworld.
I thanked them politely , and they moved on.
There is a section of the lake , where the path veers off to the side. And it gets pretty dark in there.
On occasion there are lays here that hold a fish or two and I resumed my stalking. I generally fish with my headphones on, listening to a podcast about aquariums or the UFC or Alex Jones just ranting on the JRE.
I turned , in the dark. Lo and behold, the gentleman dressed in black stood about 6 inches from me. Dead pan expression and a stick in hand.
“This is our tree” he said.
To which I replied. “Right mate, you can have it”
I’d have never picked him for a tree hugger, but again. Who am I to judge?
Once my soul had re-entered my body, I gathered my wits and walked a little ahead.
It was then I noticed, the squeals coming from a park bench.
The lady in black was bent over , hammering away at something .
That was wailing. The dude was running around looking at the trees and stabbing in the air.
Clearly an animal of some description was in some considerable pain. I am leaning towards a possum.
It was dark, not just in the gravity of the moment but also in illumination. I didn’t want to stick around and look.
I hurried away to a safe distance and watched from afar.
The duo were up to something mysterious. And it wasn’t funny being out there alone past 11.
I rang basti and hawkesy . They agreed that getting away and possibly calling the cops was the move.
While all this happened, the pair melted into the dark.
Not to be seen again.
Might have to throw surface on a full moon the next time I go for that 20lb cod.
