The Demise of the 15 Foot Snapper Tinny

Late one hot, still build up afternoon in November, a gathering of ‘gentlemen’, shuffled, twitched and paced on a Cullen Bay finger with barely constrained nervous energy. A sense of giddy schoolboy excitement gripped us, though with women folk still about, we maintained an aloof, disinterested outward cool.

The long awaited day had finally arrived. A set of tides circled on the calendar many months before was at that very moment building outside Cullen Bay lock to a point that would allow us to finally embark upon our feverishly anticipated ‘Big Trip’ aboard Fish Darwin’s “Northern Exile”     

An observant onlooker to the gathering may have remarked upon the many parallels with the Ballad of Gilligan’s Island. We were departing a tropic port, the mate a mighty sailing man (Anthony, on his first extended charter), a  Skipper brave and sure ( Shaun ‘Drop ‘em Boys!’ Uden).  It proved to be a fateful trip, and six passengers did set sail that day … but there were no millionaires or movie stars, and certainly no professors.  It would be fair enough to say however,  we did have a full complement of Gilligan’s.

The boys, all locals and tinny owners, had decided to lash out and have a ‘once in a lifetime’ 2 night charter on a fair dinkum boat. We were keen to go wider than South Gutter or Fenton - have an extended crack at some quality fish while watching some other bugger pull anchor.

Skipper Shaun’s plan, democratically endorsed by the punters, was to motor all night in an attempt to reach Emperor and Trout grounds to the NW of Melville, with a short drop for the change of the tide inside the Tiwis.  Sean set course and settled in for a night of steaming,   we set about vigorously lightening the dangerously overstocked esky - the excessive weight of which could surely only hinder the vessel’s progress.

Come 930pm, the tide was on the turn and we were primed and ready for battle after a few beers and a great feed knocked up by Ant. We pulled up on a mark and anchored.  Shaun yelled ‘Drop ‘em Boys!’ from the wheelhouse and time passed - the time it takes for a snapper lead to hit bottom in 25 metres of water to be precise – and absolute pandemonium broke loose!                                                                                                   

Every bait got smashed and 3 of us hooked up in the first 15 seconds. As the fish came to the surface we realized we had hit the jackpot.  Goldies -and absolute stonkers! The first fish coming up were in the 65-70cm range, the likes of which I had only ever dreamed about, but then they proceeded to get bigger, and be joined in the fray by Jewies. 

A 20 minute adrenaline surging session would in the end produce 3 Jewies up to 110cm, and 10 or12 Snapper - the biggest at 80cm pushing over the 7kg mark. The pressure was off after the first drop! We were suitably pleased with proceedings and as Shaun reset a course for Emperor World, some of the crew relived the battle and relieved ballast from the esky, while others chose a nap in the air con to gird the loins for the following morning’s proceedings.

We woke to an ocean flat as a biscuit, a billiard table, a mill pond - a text book glass off. The sunrise reflected a magnificent scarlet blaze across the waters, bursting with the promise of scarlet fish! The air was redolent with the aroma of hissing bacon and eggs and a steaming brew was delivered as first baits went down.   All was good and right in our world.  Then, the idyllic morning serenity was cruelly shattered as one Gilligan, who had removed too much ballast from the esky the night before, proceeded to remove a considerable amount of ballast from his digestive system the morning after.   But you get that on the big jobs.

We worked round Parry Shoals for the morning and got a few Trout, Cod, Mackerel, threw back big mobs of Tricky’s up to the 2.5 kilo mark (fish you would be very happy about bagging a couple of in the harbour), battled heaps of sizeable Trevally on bait and light jigging gear, and then nailed a cracking 1.3 metre Spaniard on a floating bait. When the Noah’s and Stargazers started to come aboard in numbers however and the Emperor didn’t, Sean called ‘Enough!’ and we headed back toward Goldy and Jewy grounds round Rocky Pt on Melville’s Western tip. 

On arrival, an early evening drop conformed to the order of proceedings established on the very first drop of the trip. Absolute bedlam! The very second leads hit bottom, big goldies and jewies went the tonk, and continued to do so until we struggled to hold bottom.  We were forced to start counting fish, and a new mission presented itself – to eat as much prime fresh Snapper as humanly possible to make room under the bag limit for more. A tough mission – but we had the team for the task.

Another sunrise saw another Bottom Bouncing Blitzkrieg of quality Goldies and Jewies, and after more BBQ Snapper for breakfast, we began hopping and dropping our way back toward port. Toward lunch, with eskies full and the sea turning lumpy, we racked the cues - exhausted, but quietly content that our mission had been comprehensively accomplished.

I’ve titled this yarn “The Demise of the 15 Foot Snapper Tinny”, which may seem odd given there is nothing ‘15 foot’ about the ‘Northern Exile’.  However something had became bleedingly   obvious to me during my wistful contemplations as we steamed, proudly triumphant, back to Darwin Harbour. The way I looked at my own tinny had been irrevocably changed. I now found it hard to envisage it as anything more than a Barra boat.                 

Why the hell would I flog around Darwin Harbour, or 60HP accessible reefs outside, to maybe get a feed of pan size snapper?  Pull anchor, bake in the sun, bash knees back and kidneys to a pulp, clean the putrid bait baked beast when you get back, then have to fillet fish if you were lucky enough to actually catch?

The true path of wisdom had been revealed to me in a shimmering sunrise delta on a tranquil tropical sea.  Save your sheckles, and do a ‘fair dinkum’ trip every now and then.  Sleep in air-con, fish in shade, have someone cook your tucker, fillet your fish, and slap a new paternoster on at a whistle. Go to waters you will never reach otherwise and nail absolutely jaw dropping fish. It is the definitive no-brainer!

The unanimous verdict of all the Gilligan’s was ‘Cracker of a Trip!’   One that will provide myriad BBQ yarns for years to come - Yarns that don’t need embellishment! Comfortable boat, good crew, good tucker, fantastic fishing - What more could you want?  And about that ‘once in a lifetime’ thing?   We’ve already booked for next year.   

Written by:  Cranky Mick from Coconut Grove, NT