The Fishing Trip
Asquith Boys high School, 1971: Ms Gaynors 2B Science Class, Friday afternoon.
The class itself was the usual collection of geeks, jocks and those who weren't geeks or jocks, and they were variously paying attention to what was happening outside the window, the clock above Ms Gaynor's Desk, What Ms Gaynor was saying, or Ms Gaynor herself. Of course to a 13 year old boy, Ms Gaynor was hot! a busty blonds with a penchant for wearing mini skirts and low cut tops to show off her cleavage. This was before the hormonal rush that coincided with the arrival of a new Student Teacher Ms Grant in 4th form, or the enticing Ms Eaton with her English accented long sun tanned legs, or Ms Hughes who, for a Maths Teacher, was very hot.
The last day of school before the June long weekend and time was dragging. The clock above Ms Gaynor's desk seemed to be stuck on 3.15pm. Science! not my favorite subject under the best of circumstances, but the last period before a long weekend, Ms Gaynor was fighting a losing battle to keep my attention. My mind was on more pleasant things; I was going all night fishing with my brother this weekend.
Finally, the bell went and I was out of there. I needed to move fast to catch the early train. It was about 650 yards to the station and the early train was due at 3.24pm, I had 4 minutes to make the train! On a good day you could pick the gap in the afternoon traffic at the 3 way intersection before jumping the fence at the southern end of the Railway Station to catch the train - The Train approached from the south so you usually had a good idea if you were going to make it or not depending on traffic at the intersection. I was sprinting down Jersey St towards the station, my backpack bouncing uncomfortable on my back as I ran. I spotted the train as I reached the intersection, it was 200 yards from the station, I was 50 yards away but with the intersection and a fence to get over...it was going to be touch and go. The intersection held me up briefly and I was cursing my luck as I made my run to the fence - the train had stopped and passengers were exiting. The fence was a six foot wire fence with a solid steel pipe at the top, I could usually get over it quickly by jumping at the bar and swinging my body sideways over. My backpack however jerked me off balance and I miscalculated the jump as my hip slammed into the bar and I was left in the dirt on the wrong side of the fence as the train pulled out. I would have to wait for the later train.
Waiting on the station I saw my twin brother Tom, and a few friends approach.
"Shame about the fence" Tom said with a smile "I thought you were going to make it till then".
"Yeah", I said, "the backpack put me off"
" I normally toss mine over the fence first", "yeah so do I but I didn't think I had the time today"
We settled into the last carriage of the eight carriage train in our usual spot. In the 70's the Boys High School and the Girls High School maintained a segregation policy and whilst travelling to or from school by train the girls had to sit in the first four carriages and the boys had to sit in the last four carriages. There were those who flagrantly disregarded this directive and both Tom and I had been discovered sitting in the wrong half of the train for one reason or another on a few occasions, today we were sitting in the last carriage with our mates continuing the card game we broke off at the end of lunch. We played 500 (a kids form of Bridge) nearly every spare moment at school and even on the train. The train had to travel two stops to Mt. Kuring-gai where Tom and I got off and we could generally get in between 5 or 6 hands in that time. The other guys; 'Truck' Jeff Lawrence, Gazza Noble, Erick Murray and Mick Sibley, were all from Berowra so had another stop to play. 500 is a Team Game and Tom and I usually played together. I flatter myself that we were above average players and won more than we lost. On this particular occasion we did particularly well with some early wins with a 6 No Trumps followed by 7 Clubs before Tom blitzed them with an Open Mizzare.
We were in the house at just after 4pm and as both Mom and Dad worked we were what came to be known as Latch Key kids in that we would let ourselves out and in the house because our parents left for work before us and came in after us. We had the house to ourselves before Dad got in about 5pm. Tom and I would usually spend the afternoon after school playing football with the other kids down the oval but today we were planning our weekend escape fishing over night at Jerusalem Bay. The Hairtail were running.
The Hairtail was a fish of nightmares, it looked like it belonged to some prehistoric time as it was long and thin with a pointy head and long razor sharp teeth. Pound for Pound they were well rated as a fighting fish and you would never land one with a normal nylon fishing line. To catch a Hairtail you needed a solid breaking strain on the line, over 12lb; and a wire trace. No one seemed to know much about the Hairtail and what was known was gained from local knowledge. Local legend claimed that the Hairtail could only be caught in Cowan Creek. They never appeared anywhere else in the world and even in Cowan Creek you would only ever see them twice a year in June and October. My brother and I had been going Hairtail Fishing on the June and the October Long weekends for the last 3 years and we had always managed to catch three or four each during the course of the night. It was also believed that the Hairtail would swim vertically up from the depths to take bait and then dive fiercely once they had it. The only sight you had of a Hairtail in the water was a flash of silver and a enormous jerk on your line. You always knew when you had a Hairtail, nothing hit your line as hard. Jerusalem Bay was one of the deepest parts of Cowan Creek and a local favourite during the Hairtail run.
It was Jerusalem Bay where Tom and I were heading, we had just finished packing our gear when Dad got home. We had arranged with Dad a week ago to drop us off at Bobin Head so we could hire one of the small Kickers for the night. The Kicker was a small boat with a half cover and a small outboard motor on the back. Both Tom and I were keen to get started but Dad insisted that we get some Dinner first. We were sitting down to mince and mashed potato when Mum got in. Both Tom and I wolfed down the dinner and then waited impatiently for Dad to finish his cup of tea and have their regular conversation over dinner about her day, work, neigbours and friends. Mum signaled the end of the dinner conversation when she turned to look at us and said "when will you be home". "Tomorrow" Tom said, "or Sunday" I qualified. Dad enquired "Who are you going with" "Mick and Erick" Tom replied. "Where..." Dad started to say. When I replied "Jerusalem Bay". "Hairtail?" we both nodded.
45 minutes later Dad was dropping us off at Bobbin Head. We new the guy who worked at the Halversons Boat Shed, John Edmonds, he was a few years ahead of us at school and used to work here after school for extra pocket money. "Hi guys" he greeted us "after the hairtail". We both nodded. "Got anything for us Johnny" Tom asked. "Yeah, take 209, it's a bit quicker than the others and doesn't leak as much" "Thanks" we replied. We returned to Dads car to pick up the gear, Dad had waited to make sure we could pick up the Kicker before he left. When we had collected all the gear he gave us a wave and said "mind how you go" as he drove away.
We were in the Kicker and heading out of Bobbin Head when Tom said "What should we do first? I can't see Mick and Erick getting down before 11pm so we have about 4 hours".
"Lets head to Jerusalem and get some fishing in before we go and pick them up" I said.
We entered Jerusalem Bay just before 8pm. Then we saw it a large Cruiser was anchored right over our favourite spot. It was about 15 meters out from shore just on the edge of the drop off that we knew dropped down to an incredible depth. We slowly passed by the Cruiser and noticed that they looked to be having a party. There were about 8 adults on board, men and woman. Whilst most were partying I noticed two guys at the rear of the boat facing the drop off and fishing. These two were quietly drinking while they fished. We passed the cruiser and turned right to the other side of the Bay. Across the Bay we stopped and dropped anchor. " Its not ideal" Tom said "but we should do alright, they are making too much noise to fish over there anyway"
We set ourselves up and settled in to fish. We talked quietly as we contemplated the night and our surroundings. It was about 10 minutes before we had the first strike. Toms float disappeared and his line went as tight as a guitar string. The line was sliding off the hand held reel at an impressive rate until Tom applied some pressure. Feels like a good size he said as he started to work the line. It was a few minutes later before we got our first sight of it, a flash of silver about 10 feet from the boat. "Looks about 4 feet" I said, Tom just grunted concentrating on his line. Tom pulled the Hairtail over the side and then held it up by the line so we could see the size and condition. It was a good one a little over 4 feet long. Just then the spotlight was on us. The cruiser was training a spot light on us and we heard the voice from across the water "..what you got?". Tom held his catch up s they could see "...Hairtail" "Nice" was the reply. Tom was grinning as he lowered the Hairtail into the bucket. I bent over to remove the hook when Tom whispered "...no leave it, lets see if we can get our spot back!"
After about 12 minutes, Tom was reeling in another Hairtail, he called out loudly "I think its bigger than the last" again the spotlight came on and they saw a glimpse of the Hairtail as we lowered it into the bucket, they never twigged that it was the same Hairtail. Another 15 minutes and I got my first bite. I knew it was a Hairtail as there was nothing tentative about the strike, there was no light tugging on the line this was a strong strike and the line went immediately. I started working the line and thought, not as big as Toms but still a nice size. It was a little over 3 feet, and when the query came again from across the water Tom replied, "about 3 and a half feet, not as big as the others but still a good size" as I held it up. I removed the hook from my Hairtail and placed it in the bucket. Tom was chuckling as he cut the hook from his Hairtail and said "that should do it".
Within about 20 minutes the Cruiser had drifted across the Bay and was now about 30 meters behind us on our side of the Bay. We hoisted anchor and let the kicker drift with the current. Half an hour later we had swapped positions with the Cruiser and we were now on our favourite spot. We no longer made any noise regarding the fish we caught. We had six Hairtail in the Bucket, we had caught three Hairtail each ranging in size from 3 feet to 4 and a half feet. We also caught some bream but they were under size and we let them go. All the Omens were looking good, it was close to a full moon, there was phosphorescence in the water and it looked like being a king tide, all signs from previous experience that it was going to be a great night for catching Hairtail. The one downer was the mist that had developed quite quickly as the temperature dropped. What had been quite a light mist an hour ago was now noticeably thicker.
At 10.30pm we decided it was time to meet Erick and Mick. Both of our school friends lived at Berowra and were going to leave Berowra at 10pm and walk down the track to Waratah Bay. The trip would normally take about 35 minutes, but given that it was night and that they weren't that familiar with the track, we thought an hour sounded about right. Waratah Bay was about a 3km walk by land and about 1 and a half by water from Jerusalem Bay.
I placed a small Kerosene Lamp on the front of the boat to make us visible in the fog and we turned towards Waratah Bay. As we travelled towards Waratah Bay we could hear pieces of conversation that had carried across the water from the various boats and people who were enjoying the evening on the water. We never really saw the boats only their lights in the fog which was now quite thick.
As we entered Waratah Bay, I was on the tiller and Tom was spotting up front. We were looking for the bid rock on the far shore that was our habitual Fishing and Camping spot at Waratah Bay. We knew roughly where the Big Rock was, but the fog was making it difficult to spot until we were quite close. I had drawn us up about 20 meters to the left of the spot and we did a slow drift along the shore till we spotted the Big Rock and pulled in. We tied off the Kicker using our Rucksacks as a land anchor. Big Rock was a large flat topped Bolder that jutted out into the Bay from a level stretch of ground that was covered with grass and ferns. It was our regular Camping spot.
Tom and I were having a cup of Tea from a thermos when we first say the light. A small orange light was flickering at the end of the bay. We would see it and then it would disappear and then flicker on again in the mist. "I'ld say that's them" I said. "Yeah" Tom replied as we both stood to get a better view. "Have they been here before" I said. "Not to Big Rock" Tom replied "We better go and meet them"
We walked to the end of the inlet to where the track from Berowra met the track that ran around the water's edge calling as we went "Erik, ERICK, ERICK!!!.", "Mick, MICK!!". There was no response and we had lost sight of the light we had seen bobbing around at the end of the inlet. The mist and fog was quite thick now and swirled about us as we walked like soup.
"That's weird " I said "what's happened to them? They should have been here an hour ago"
"Yeah" Tom replied "and what happened to the light we saw"
"a trick of the light?"
"um, I suppose"
We started to walk back along the track. Tom was saying that he thinks it would be a good idea to put in a line just past the drop off to take advantage of the rising tide. He stopped talking suddenly and I didn't need to ask why because I had heard it too, the sound of steps, two steps, like someone stepping on the stepping stones to cross the creek at the end of the inlet. We stared intently behind us, but could see very little through the fog which seemed to get thicker as we watched.
"HELLO?" Tom called
Nothing, all we could hear was the water lapping at the rocks.
I jerked my head, to indicate we should go, Tom nodded and we set off, silently this time and a little faster. We were moving as quietly and as quickly as we could, our ears straining for any sound behind us. We had gone about 20 yards when we heard it again the sound of steps behind us. We both slowed our pace and I could tell that Tom like me was calculating how far behind us the sound was. Being twins we often found ourselves finishing each others sentences and thinking the same things at the same time. I knew without having to say that Tom had reached the same conclusion as I had. 20 yards, no more. Tom and I had been coming down to this spot for years and we would often brag that we knew the place like the back of our hands and it was true that we had an above average knowledge of this area of Cowan Creek and the bush tracks, we had made some of the tracks ourselves. I was thinking to myself it was time we put our local knowledge to use and moved quickly to my right and started to climb up the side of the hill. There was another track that was little known and seldom used about 25 meters up the side of the hill. This upper track was well known to Tom and I as it was a track we used to get fresh water when we camped down here for any length of time. Both Tom and I climbed quickly and quietly to the upper track and then moved along it till we found the spot we were looking for. We crouched down in a small opening in the track that gave us a good view of about 10 yards of the lower track that we had been on. Between the fog and the dark we didn't have perfect visibility of the track but we had enough light to see if anything moved along the light sandy lower path.
We waited, I began to feel the beginnings of a headache, I was straining so hard to see or hear something. Nothing for almost 5 minutes. We both realized that if someone had moved along the bottom path we would have seen them and began to relax. I looked at Tom and he just shrugged, I took it to mean "just our imagination".
We waited a bit longer, but I was starting to feel better about this and didn't really expect to see anything.
Then I heard it "swish, swish", I don't recall standing but I was upright and looking back along the upper path. Tom too was up and looking back the way we came. He looked at me and we both knew what it was someone was on the upper track and we both knew where it was, the swish swish sound was quite distinctive, it could only be where the ferns cross the path, the frongs of the ferns make a distinctive sound as you brush against them. That put it at 20 yards away. We both knew that there were very few people who knew of the upper track and the thought of being down here in the dark with someone who knew this place as well as we did was unnerving.
We ran.
I don't think anyone could have moved as quickly as we did right then, it was another 30 yards to our camp site and the boat and the fact that the path was just a rough bush path with numerous bushes and logs across the path meant nothing. We knew this path of old and we were ready for every obstacle, nothing slowed our flight. We leapt the 10 foot drop off to the lower path, as we approached our camp I told Tom "grab the gear". We grabbed our rucksacks which we had used as a land anchor for the Kicker without stopping and leapt aboard the Kicker pushing it out into the bay by our momentum. I was at the motor in a flash. Once, Twice, Three Times I pulled the cord before it started.
I looked back at our mooring as the motor kicked into life, and there on the big rock was a figure, man size and before the fog covered him I saw something long in his hand. When the fog cleared the figure had gone.
"Did you see that" I said "In his hand, it looked like an a...."
"Yeah" Tom said, nodding his head vigorously, still looking at the rock where the figure had stood
We stayed in the middle of the Bay as we entered the main waterway of Cowan Creek, we looked back constantly but never saw the figure again. We thought about returning to Bobbin Head but decided against it as Bobbin Head was within walking distance of Waratah Bay, instead we headed for Cottage Point on the other side of Cowan Creek
We didn't do any more fishing that night, and returned to Bobbin Head the next morning. We made good time on the track from Bobbin Head to Mt Kuring-gai and walked in our front door before 8am for a breakfast of Bacon and Eggs. At school after the Long Weekend we asked Erick and Mick why they had bailed on the fishing trip, they both indicated that they didn't fancy the hike down in the dark
Neither Tom or I ever mentioned that night, we were both unsure what had really happened, I think we hoped more than believed that it was the result of an over active imagination. About three weeks after our all night fishing trip it was on the news that a hobo who used to live in a shanty on the northern side of Waratah Bay had been found decapitated, police suspected his brother who was also a hobo who lived in the Looking Glass Bay area and used to compete at the Easter Show as a Woodcutter.
Whilst Tom and I continued to go hiking in the bush and fishing on Cowan Creek, we never stayed out overnight at Waratah Bay again, and as far as I know they never found the Hobo's brother. I remember many years ago now, I used to make up stories to tell my kids at night time before they went to sleep. On one night, I started to tell them the Fishing Trip tale but my wife stopped me, claiming that they were not old enough. The kids protested so I promised I would tell the story when the twins were the same age I was in the story. When I eventually told the story, the kids were suitably impressed and remarked that it was a good Halloween Story. I remember thinking kids today are hard to scare especially when they think it is just a story as I knew they didn't believe it actually happened and I just smiled and tucked them into bed.
Postscript
Both my brother and I went to university and eventually started our own careers. Both of us were working overseas, Tom in Ghana and I was working in the middle East. It had been a number of years since we had seen each other and we both had families of our own now.
In July last year my brother Tom came to Sydney with his son for a visit. I was also visiting Sydney and when Tom indicated that he was in town and wanted to take Shannon fishing, I asked my boys if they were interested. All the boys were keen, so we arranged to take them fishing at Waratah Bay on the Sunday. We made the very familiar trip to Berowra and then hiked down the trail that Tom and I used to use all those years ago. I recall when we had hiked down to the Bay and commenced the walk along the track beside the waters edge. Tom started telling the boys the story of an all night fishing trip that he and I were on and what happened. He took them up to the upper track and showed them where we crouched and watched the lower track, he took them to the drop off and we all made the same jump we had made all those years ago, and he took them to the big rock where the figure had stood as we steered the kicker away. Tom's son Shannon listened in disbelief and finally announced "Yeah sure Dad" where upon my kids jumped in and said "No, No, it true - our dad told us the same thing a few years ago". We continued our hike around the point, none of the kids dawdled or lagged behind.