WHAT DOES FISHING MEAN TO YOU?

Shane Mensforth

Turning 70 is a pretty scary thought……. and that’s what is about to happen to me in January next year. As far as I can tell at least, my mind, my memory and everything else above the shoulders is still functioning as it should. In fact, I reckon I’m sharper now in most areas than I have been for much of my life, which is a definite Godsend. However, there is no doubt I’m starting to slow down physically – a factor that influences me daily, and something that will become more of an issue as the years progress.

I’ve just described the inevitability of growing older, of course. It’s how you manage this process that will determine how it affects your day-to-day life, and particularly how it affects most physical activities. Paramount for me is how it affects where, when and how often I go fishing.

Back in the ‘good old days’ I never thought twice about getting up before dawn, driving crazy distances or putting in ridiculously long days to catch a decent fish. Mid-winter overnighters chasing mulloway in the Port River, driving three hours pre-dawn to fish for kings at Port Augusta, then three hours back again to be home in time for dinner, were par for the course. Putting in a massive amount of time and effort were the norm – as they are or have been for most super-keen fisho’s since time began.

I will still get up early if there’s the chance of hooking something exceptional, and I’m still happy to drive a reasonable distance if I can’t catch the target species closer to home – but nowhere near as often as I used to. As recently as five years ago, Brett and I would tow the boat to Coffin Bay for a week’s solid effort on the kingfish, which meant 16-18 hours on the highway (return), seven consecutive 3am starts, followed by seven long days on the water. We managed a few nice kingies from those trips, but the return for effort was generally low, and I steadily lost interest in the whole scenario.

Brett still goes to Coffin Bay in springtime, but I’m no longer part of the crew. I simply can’t put in the hours it takes to be successful, preferring now to stay home and chase some whiting or squid. I’ll admit to being envious whenever he flicks through a picture of a monster kingy he’s just landed, but console myself with the assertion that I’ve caught my share over the years, and that I should be grateful for being part of the so-called ‘golden era’ of recreational fishing. Later in this issue you’ll come across an article I’ve written about the history of the Shimano Tiagra game reel. A fair section of the story involves the recent capture of a couple of ‘barrel’ bluefin tuna out of Marion Bay, the significance of which slots nicely into the theme of this Editorial.

We all know how big, how tough and how physically demanding it is to catch a 100kgplus tuna on stand-up tackle, particularly from a trailer boat. It’s a process that also calls for long drives, long days on the water and plenty of financial outlay on fuel and tackle. I’d caught a couple of barrels before, but always on big boats with professional skippers. The largest of these weighed 108kg, and I recall being physically wrecked after three hours on 24kg stand-up. I also recall thinking at the time that I’d now ‘been there and done that’, and that there was no reason to put myself through that amount of pain ever again.

However, when those giant tuna turned up off the bottom of Yorke Peninsula in winter this year, for some reason I simply couldn’t resist having another crack. I knew that if I was lucky enough to hook one, I probably wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, or maybe I wouldn’t even be able to land one at all! However, it was the irresistible ‘father-and-son’ factor that emerged as the driving force behind the barrel mission, as well as the achievement of maybe catching one together from our own boat. Of all the people I’ve fished with over the years, it’s fishing in tandem with Brett that I love most – something you’ll undoubtedly pick up on if you go on to read that story later in the mag.

When you get down to it, I guess it’s how much you love fishing that will ultimately determine how long you stick at it, and to what extent the rigours of advancing years will slow you down. I’ll now sleep in if I can, I’ll avoid a bumpy boat ride in favour of a calm day when possible, I’ll drive to the local beach rather than to the Far West Coast, and generally go for the easy option whenever it’s available.

I still love fishing as much as I ever have, and often get a little despondent when I realise the best days on or by the water are behind me. However, I do have a heap of grandkids, most of whom seem to enjoy catching anything with fins, so perhaps it’s fulfilling this legacy that will ultimately fill the void. My advice is to treasure each and every moment you spend fishing, maintain your passion, and get out there as often as you can, while you can. After all, there is no better pastime on earth!