Travelways

Save time and money, book your ultimate Tasmanian holiday now!

Having a whale of a time

IT is quick. A glimpse so fleeting that you ask yourself if it really happened. Killer whale. Just 10 metres behind the boat. It emerges from the wake for less than a second. Then it is gone. That unmistakable black-and-white pattern. Orca. Free Willy. I am on the top deck and race  downstairs. ``Did you see it? A killer whale. Just behind us.'' There are four of us aboard. Launcestonians John Parry, Barney Brough, me and St Helens-based skipper Rocky Carosi. Barney has seen the big mammal in the water and from his angle he thinks  either orca, pilot whale or big dolphin. That's the problem with real life: there's no big-screen replay to confirm what you've seen;  wild creatures might choose to  join you for hours or mere seconds. About 10 minutes later Rocky talks to a professional long-line fisherman nearby who confirms there are killer whales working the area. We set our droplines, four of them 550 metres long. And as we work we see two lazy black dorsal fins about 50 metres to port. They are not good news for longline fishermen. Orcas possess an uncanny knack for sucking hefty deep-sea fish neatly off their hooks. It is a July Sunday  and we are fishing the continental shelf about 20 kilometres  off Tasmania's North-East coast. A long way out and a long way down _ the water is about half a kilometre deep. We wind the lines up and down with a two-handled wheel, much like a bike mechanism. Twenty hooks, each baited with mackerel or tuna, make the journey to the deep on each line. We take turns winding the line to the top. It is a steady workout and at times it feels like one of the whales is coming along for the ride. (Some boats have a powered winch but Rocky sees the  manual yakka as part of the recreational fishing experience.) Our four lines yield a total of 20 fish _ 19 trevalla and a bright orange alfonsina. They weigh  between 5-10 kilograms and the fish bins are soon full. The bag limit for trevalla is five apiece so we are almost at our capacity anyway. The heavy cloud that sits quietly over Tasmania eventually decides to join us offshore. A few breaths of wind stir the sea sufficiently for us to rule out bottom fishing with rods.   We are content with the day, which is as much about the cameraderie and ceremony of fishing as it is about landing the scaly critters. Rocky faces his 12-metre flybridge cabin cruiser, Salt Shaker, towards the south-west and we start  home. On the way out, the skipper had given the notorious barway at St Helens tremendous respect. We had watched the waves for several sequences then picked a flat patch and driven through it. On the way back it receives similar  attention before we ease into Georges Bay behind a helpful roller. The bay is calm and bathed in late afternoon sun. Rocky cleans the fish and we pull into the marina. We each keep a whole trevalla to frighten our kids when we get back to  Launceston. We also have half a dozen huge fillets to squeeze into fridges and freezers. The food is a bonus but the highlight remains our unexpected encounter with the killer whales. Rocky, who pursues tuna and marlin in the warmer months, says he sees  whales about one trip in 10. ``They're pretty spectacular. If you don't see whales, you might see dolphins and seals. And there's always plenty of bird life with albatrosses, gannets, petrels and terns,'' he says. ``There's always something going on.'' IF YOU GO This story is based on a trip several winters ago. Rocky Carosi still runs Professional Fishing Charters at St Helens. See www.gamefish.net.au or call 6376 3083.