If you are an avidly keen native lure fisherman like myself, most of you will have noticed the abundance of large emerald green Willow tree’s over crowding the shores of some of your local Rivers, Streams and Dams. These Willow’s make their destructive presence known all over the inland waterways of eastern australia, choking up vital oxygen supplies in the water and their dense roots often creating devastating bank side erosion.
Willow’s – A love hate relationship
In fishing terms on the other hand, these green giants create vast and ideal territory for our valuable native fish populations. Anyone with eyes can see how much potential lays below a nice shady Willow, but how many times have you given up on the spot due to their extremely difficult defense mechanisms? Their luscious foliage and long branches more often than not, hang like giant green brick walls purposed to deny any unusual man made intruder – a real snagging nightmare!
Never allowing your cast to penetrate far enough into the canopy to warrant a clear shot at the piscatorial delights that lay in wait, deep in the root system tucked right up against the bank. There are a few things that I have picked up on over the last few years here in freezing cold Canberra though, that may just turn your view on those pesky willow branches upside down, especially when the cold winds of winter arrive.
A desperate Murray cod adventure
Mid July – 2008, I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs coming up with crazy ideas about how the next summer fishing season would play out, praying for those first signs of warm weather when the local Golden Perch might start making a regular appearance in the shallow margins of our urban lakes and ponds. I can’t even explain the amount of time I spent going through old lure boxes looking for that hidden gem that might just turn the overweight & sluggish perch into aggressive hitting machines.
When I look back now, I realise how much time I had actually wasted with hopeless dreams that sometimes never even came to pass due to temperamental spring weather patterns. Late one very cold friday evening, I received a call from my good mate Dean Norbiato – Just our regular weekly call, talking rubbish about how excited we were to chase some Murray Cod again later in the year and that how Somewhere, Somehow, Someone down on the Murray River was catching monster Murray Cod in the freezing cold. This conversation sparked something in me and I mentioned to Dean that whilst we had a high barometer and some stable weather, we should try our luck in the local rivers. Desperate for some sort of fishing action, Dean agreed and we set out to meet up at 5:30 the next morning.
A Cod awakening
When we arose, we were greeted with a very brisk minus 5 degrees Celsius and a very dark, very cold walk down a treacherous track into the abyss of a large river canyon. The ice on the rocks of the rivers edge suggested that we were kidding ourselves, but we continued to head as far upstream as we could get before the sun made its presence too well known. Just as the sun broke the edges of the canyon walls, we stumbled upon a relatively shallow stretch of river with a gentle flow and several large broken down willow tree’s edging their limbs into the water at the head of the pool, like haunting skeleton’s in the early morning mist. Although somewhat daunting, these large branches and roots caused a significant eddy in the flow coming down from the nearby rapids and looked like ideal habitat for a very cold & hungry Murray Cod waiting in ambush for an early breakfast.
With a swift cast, I landed my Lurestrike Mad Barry Pro just ahead of the largest branch and began a slow retrieve along the bottom, bumping what felt like a solid log sitting perfectly under the over hang. When my lure broke free of the log I was stunned to feel an extremely sharp nudge beaconing through my graphite rod and called out in exaggerated excitement that I had just received a hit.
Dean rushed forward to meet me at the head of the pool, where we both laid casts in the aforementioned area. The anxiety was running high as my lure dropped over the log again, I eagerly awaited a similar circumstance to occur but it wasn’t to be. Feeling a little shocked, I continued to retrieve the lure through the last few meters of the cast, a little confused as to where the fish had ended up. Just before my lure reached it’s final destination, my rod buckled over violently and I was forced into battle with a neat 80cm wild Winter Murray Cod.
Deciduous Decisions
This event led to many hours pondering why everything had for some reason on that morning come together. What I have come up with over the last few winters since then, is a few major ideas that I believe can account for some of the success Myself, Dean and our good friend Aaron Hill have encountered during the bitter canberra cold. In the winter of 2011, I spent a lot of time fishing a remote river location, which during the summer is virtually un-fishable due to the dense foliage from the surrounding willow tree’s and the high flow from summer rains.
Come Autumn though, when the cool breezes roll in and begin to transform this lush green wonderland into a vast stretch of incredible and now more accessible timber, in conjunction with some lower water flow levels and it is then clear to see just how much magic is really held below the pesky branches of the humble Willow tree. These dense timber lays, submerged under the heavy cover of these gigantic tree’s, on occasion could hold at least a couple of solid Murray Cod.
Most of the fish will likely be sitting tightly behind the cover of an eddy formed by a dense root ball or a mess of left over timber waste caught up in its branches after a strong summer flood. During the warmer months, these fish are not easily extracted, especially when the over hanging willow leaves make it almost impossible to get a cast close enough for the fish to notice.
Underwater Dungeons
I am not saying that during the winter however, it’s as easy as shooting fish in a barrel, on most occasions it can take more than 30 casts into the same snag ridden area to extract a strike from a resident fish, and upsettingly a lot of the time, we won’t even draw a strike from what may look like the best snag pile in the river. What I am saying however, is that during the Winter, it becomes slightly easier to persuade these sluggish fish into having a look at your lure presentation due to the readily accessible casting locations made visible after the leaves are cleared by Autumn’s deciduous fall. In recent non-drought years, when the long summer season is often riddled with heavy storms & floods, the winter has been our best opportunity to chase murray cod, as there has been a much lower river flow level due to less frequent rains.
In the cold months, when the river drops two or three feet, it gives you a bit more clearance to pin casts up underneath the remaining branches, it is also good practice to create a (hypothetically speaking) “mental map” of the structure below, as the low water exposes even more of the underwater dungeons that these murray cod like to call their home. This can mean the difference between catching fish or heartbreaking “donuts” the next time the river level inevitably rises again. I have also found that late autumn and throughout winter seems to be a good time for the larger Murray Cod to make their mark.
Size does matter
Over the last few years it has become apparent that the average size of the fish we have caught, is greatly larger than those caught during the warmer months. Why, some may ask? Well, I am no expert in aquatic biology, but I believe this is due to a larger mass of fat on the oversized models. Like a whale, a Murray Cod will generally feed heavily in the lead up to the winter cold, to gain body fat in order to keep its body temperature stable when the water temperature decreases. When these bigger fish are in good condition after their all important autumn feast and when the weather allows stable pressure systems, the fish begin to get used to the relatively constant cold temperatures and move up into their favourite vantage points to feed again, in this circumstance, willow tree’s provide the perfect cover for a fish to lay and wait in ambush.
Going with the flow
Finding the right willow structure can take a bit of time and experimentation, most of the timber laying underneath the hanging branches can look too good to be true, and quite often it is! Snags are definitely one of the more frustrating factors of fishing the willows, their dense root systems and unseen branches can constantly put you in a world of pain, but as most good fisherman know, you have to be in it to win it! I have found over the last few years that looking for a few definitive features of a snag can mean the difference between success and frustrating failure, not to mention a dent in the bank account.
The first feature that I will generally look for when fishing the willows is a flow point, or in more general terms; an area of the snag that has a considerable amount of water flowing past often creating an eddy of slack water behind. A flow point could be a large branch or a log that is protruding into the main flow of the river out from the willow’s roots or stem, these flow points often gather debris, which creates even more cover for a fish to sit in whilst excerpting minimal energy in the comfort of the snags eddy.
Placing your cast into the flow ahead of the snag and retrieving the lure back slowly and as close as possible to the timber has yielded the best results for me. The second feature I look for is a small gap between two solid snag piles, these areas can often hold more than one fish if the setting is right and placing multiple casts into these areas put’s you in the optimal position to receive a feeding or territorial strike from an aggressive fish holding tightly.
Sunny side up
I have also questioned a few times whether it is necessary to fish on the sunniest side of the river for Murray cod in winter and I have found that around 90% of the fish I have taken from the willows, have been from a heavily shaded area even when the water is a very icy 10 degrees celcius, so to me, it does not seem all that important to fish the warmest stretch of the river.
Unfortunately, there is a lot more to fishing the willows than I can explain in this article, and I am by no means an expert, just a keen native fisherman who wishes he had learned this valuable lesson earlier and I suggest from recent successful personal point of view, that any keen native fisherman who loves to learn and gain experience, just take into account these points next time you come across a stretch of river choked with willows.
Nothing but memories
With a few memorable Winter seasons behind me now, I can look back and say “What was I thinking wasting all that time in the winter when I could’ve been fishing?”, but these lessons helped me realise that fishing is all about learning and mistakes like those in the past, only make for better fishing in the future. So with these new realisations, combined with a strong will, a beefed up casting arm and a warm pair of thermals I can see the exciting difference between a long, Cold & Dark Winter wishing for the summer season to start, or a pro-active Winter spent enjoying good fishing fun with my mates and experiencing some explosive murray cod action.
So next time you see the Willow trees starting to drop their leaves, don’t fret about how much you’re going to shiver, grab your Murray cod gear and prepare yourself for a few bust off’s in the timber! I bet that will warm you up!