Hi guys,

I thought people could give a bit of a story behind thier favorite fishing photo as ive had a couple of pms about my avatar, so here goes.......

It was 24th January 2009 and it was my 30th birthday, my wife and I had decided to head up to Kalbarri for the Australia day long weekend.

I had been poppering in the mornings for tailor without much success and had decided to fish the beach at night time with baits.

It was about 7.30pm when we set-up at a stretch of beach Id chosen for that evenings session and with day light savings in full swing it would be about another 40 mins until the sun had completely dipped below the horizon.

High tide was due at 10.40pm and I decided to fish only until 11 because I know from experience that is about all the cook can handle. All that filled my mind while I set up, were thoughts of catching a mulloway as I had been winding my mates up all week about catching one on my birthday.

The fishing was a bit slow to begin with, and only a couple of shovelies being landed. There was another fisho about 50 meters up the beach, and when I saw him hook up I ran up with the gaff and helped him land yet another shovel. Little did I know how much I would appreciate the favour being returned later in the evening.

It was getting close to 11 and the ugly stick hadn’t twitched in ages when I gave Naomi the nod to start loading gear into the cruiser, as usual the rod was the last to be packed and it wasn’t until I grabbed it out of the holder and started to wind that I came up solid and line started to peel off the Spheros. I didn’t even need to set the hook as it was clear that whatever was steaming west was well attached. I called it for another shovel as I couldn’t detect any decent head shakes through the braid and after an initial run of about 50 meters we settled in for a slug-fest.

The first clue as to the identity of the culprit came as it neared the shore. I had assumed the fight was all but over, when the fish promptly turn 90 degrees and headed south parallel to the beach, classic mulloway trait. Another 10 or so minutes and I had the fish coming towards me again. The other fisho, (who I was later to find out was also named Russell) was making his way over just as the fish came into view of the torch, MULLOWAY!!! Was the call, and a beauty at that!

I used an incoming wave to work the beaten fish up over the reef that separated the beach and the gutter I was fishing in, but as luck would have it the leader clipped the reef and with the sound that every fisho dreads, PING! The fish was loose in the wash. I immediately threw down my rod and off about two steps, spear tackled the fish. I could feel the reef under foot as I moved the croaker through the knee deep water towards Russell who was waiting to gill it.

Finally the fish was mine. To say I was ecstatic would be an understatement. We quickly had it on the scales and watched as it pulled them down to 28 kilograms. Fifty pounder!

It was only once I had packed up the cruiser and shook hands with my new best mate Russell that I felt my foot starting to throb. One flash of the headlamp confirmed that the bottom of my left big toe was severely cut. I raced back to the caravan park and squared the fish away. My foot was killing me. We headed to the local nursing station where the call was put out to the local doctor. He arrived about an hour later and if the nurse was nice and gentle and very caring as she cleaned the wound, the doctor was the complete opposite. I cant really blame him, being dragged away from whatever he was doing at 12 oclock, on a Saturday night, to come into work and stitch up another stinking fisho!!!

Looking back now I would gladly trade another couple of stitches for another fish like that, and all on my 30th birthday. Some people have parties, some people go out for dinner with family, I go fishing. Every birthday, I go fishing.

Cheers Russ