Drifting for Cod

Some trips can take years of talking before you make it happen. For other people, that may be a holiday to Hawaii or a European cruise. But for me, and Northern Rivers fly-fishing guide John Everett, the long-discussed trip was a multi-day Murray cod drift. And after years of talking, it was time to start doing.

John grew up in Armidale, New England and has explored the Northern NSW waters for over thirty years. John loves an adventure and if a body of water seemed hard to reach, it was his mission to fish it. While much of my Murray cod fishing had been done on foot, John’s passion was to catch them on small inflatable rafts. And by his record of success, it’s clear it works.

John and I finally managed to get three days in the calendar for our drift, and I headed north. John had sent me a random ‘dropped pin’ on Google maps. I plugged it in and hoped for the best. Although I was taken to the middle of nowhere, it was good to see John waiting for me when I arrived. We left his car at our planned finish point and jumped in my car to head to the start. The idea was simple: pack everything we would need for three days into the rafts and fish our way downstream, back to John’s car.

NEW ENGLAND DRIFTING

It was January 2023, and despite three wet years, the river wasn’t too high. It snaked between long pools and skinny rapids with the odd shallow section requiring us to carry the rafts, as well as around logs, boulders, and the odd fence strung across the river. But for most of it, we were able to float along the river.

For this trip John and I both had Incept Water Striders, an inflatable raft that John had used for many years, and I had recently purchased. The oars propel you forward, or backwards, and the hollowed out centre allows you to sit up straight while fishing, with detachable flippers on your boots to control the movement and placement while casting, and to help you slowly work through a pool. My previous multi-day cod fishing required long and tiring hikes. This felt like a much more relaxing way to fish.

It was dark when we made our way to the first camp. We’d both landed some fish, and as we sat down to a meal of barbecued steak and broccolini, I was excited to see what our full day of fishing tomorrow would deliver.

‘Don’t wake me up, I will get up when I wake up.’ Those were my final words to John as I zipped up my tent ready for a rest. Having just finished a big season of saltwater guiding, I was happy to not set the alarm. John was probably caught off-guard — he would have fished 24 hours if I wasn’t there.

We woke up, packed up, reloaded the rafts, and hit the water for a big day ahead. The fishing seemed slow. Murray cod can be like that at times, all or nothing. We changed flies, varied retrieves, and questioned each other. ‘Why aren’t they biting?’ followed by, ‘That’s cod fishing.’ And then, as they often do, things changed.

I paddled towards a row of weeping willows choking the edge of the riverbed. A long cast underneath, and a large cod followed all the way out — to the point where I could feel the movement of water on my legs dangling below.

‘John, I just had a follow from a good one,’ I called out, as I prepared to recast further under the overhanging tree. The second cast barely hit the water, and it was engulfed. ‘I’m on!’

I put the reverse paddle on the flippers so I could pull myself further into the pool. John could see it was better than an average fish so made his way over.

Holding a big cod from inside a raft on the edge of a deep pool is awkward at the best of times. John and I marvelled at the fish, and as always, sent it back on its way.

The afternoon was fantastic. Fish of 70–90 cm appeared to be on the bite, and we landed several beautiful cod. Even with all day to spare, there was too much water to cover. Once again, night fell, and we were nowhere near our planned campsite. Thankfully, John had a plan, and we rowed an hour or so through the dark and got set up.

On the final day we realised we could have easily added an extra day or two. It felt like we had ignored half the pools and got carried away in others. The morning was productive, and John claimed another above average fish. I must have said to John 100 times, ‘Why has this taken us so long to do?’ I was already planning the next round.

As we pulled into our stopping point, we reflected on how freeing it is to just fish and drift. No phone reception, big fish, and plenty of water to explore. I began to wonder, where else could I plan a similar trip?

CENTRAL-WEST NSW

Having spent much of my life around the town of Bathurst, I am no stranger to the Macquarie River. I caught my first trout on fly at age 13 in the Macquarie, and my first Murray cod on fly there too, around ten years back. I have hiked just about all of it from where the Fish and Campbells rivers join to create the Macquarie, all the way to the mouth of Burrendong Dam. But I have never drifted it. With the recent adventure with John on my mind, I knew it had to be done.

Things were dire for the river during the drought of 2017 to early 2020. This year, however, after three excellent years of rain, the Macquarie is once again producing consistent Murray cod captures. The plan was to drift as far as we could for two days, then send our location for a helicopter pick-up and return to the car. Murray Stewart and his cousin Dean came with me on the trip.

Generally, we want a high barometer for Murray cod fishing, but it was as low as we’d seen it all month. Ah well, at the very least it would be an adventure. We slept in our swags by the water and set off at first light. This time, Murray was in my Water Strider, and Dean and I both had pack rafts.

Several pools in from the launch and I lost two decent cod. Then finally, on a top-water fly, I landed one. Interestingly, even into the late morning, the top-water fly was producing more than subsurface options.

As I left the car that morning, I had grabbed my spare rod and done what I never do on a multi-day trip: ‘I’ll be right, I think I will just leave it here.’ Around lunch that day, I connected with a good-sized cod. The pack raft was already caught up in the current and wind, so things were not exactly under control. Stupidly, I high-sticked the rod to avoid a tangle, and… SNAP! I’d broken the second section from the top. And to be fair, I have not broken too many rods in my life. But in this moment, I realised I was a long way from the car and still had one and a half days of fishing ahead of me.

So, I got creative. I reversed the broken section and managed to feed the tip section into the reversed piece, and the thinner end into the third section. A few bits of raft repair kit and a nail knot at both ends, and somehow it got me through the rest of the trip.

Oddly, we connected and dropped plenty of good-sized fish that day and evening. Murray managed to finally get one of them landed just after dark. Despite being well spread across the pool, we all heard the explosive eat when it happened.

We considered this to be an exploratory trip and did our best to cover as much water as we could on the second day. Some of the rapids were enough to hold our breath, but the scenery was always beautiful. We never saw another angler, and the only time the sound of the bush was broken was when the helicopter came down the valley to collect us.

What seemed like a lot of gear, was all packed down small enough to jam into the back seat and storage compartments on the helicopter, and barely fifteen minutes later we were back at the car.

This drifting thing is really growing on me.