1998 - First few fish on the Ranger 17

From left to right: 4 kg night Grunter; 5 kg Barra at sunset, what more can a guy ask for?; Coral Trout 1 kg, a surprise catch. Thanks Kenny for snapping this photo for me; A typical schooling Red Emperor; Happy Henry with a handsome Grunter.

I've always wondered...

...what fish do when the current's dead. Maybe they just hang around watching television or something. Once, on a flight to Melbourne, I saw a documentary when they dived during a "currentless" period. The fish were there but they were simply, how do I say it, hanging around?

One thing's for sure, fishing around Ubin and Tekong is definitely current-dependent. I prefer a falling tide, but as long as the line does not go straight down, there's a chance of a good bite. All these fish were caught while the current was strong.

Even while fishing in deep water, although light-gear fishermen wait for a change in current or a slack current in order to get their baits down to the bottom, the basic rule still remains: NO CURRENT=NO ACTION . In deep water, the preferred scenario would be a slack current but certainly not a dead current.

But like all crazy fishos, don't we try our luck whether or not there's a current? It's all about hope and... wishful thinking. (Maybe next time, instead of wasting live prawns and feeding the sea-lice, we should just play cards or something.)

Catch and Release

I used to advocate the practice of Catch and Release. But I have to admit, as a human being, I have been inconsistent at times. There was a trip to Aur where we landed plenty of Dorado (see pic above) and kept all of them, and never wasted a single fish. There was another time in Eden when we landed our bag limit of Pink Snapper, and learnt how to fillet a fish in double quick time.

Why do some people force their views upon others?

I'll probably never know.

What I do know is that Yabby catching is fun!

Fishing in Australia

Australian Salmon are very strong fighters which put up a good deal of acrobatics when hooked.

I went to Melbourne and experienced some wonderful surf fishing where Salmon averaging 2 kg rushed to get your bait the moment you cast it out. The Tailor, King George Whiting, and Pinkie Snapper were also in a cooperative mood.

 There was even a day when the fish were so thick that I finished a whole 5 kg block of Pilchards in a short catch and release session. Incidentally, that was at a place called Eden... definitely an angler's paradise.

From left to right: Pink Snapper from Shark Bay. Atlantic Salmon and Rainbow Trout. Releasing a Seagull that accidentally went for my bait. Fighting a strong Salmon from the surf. Random pics of Tailor and Salmon.

Surf Fishing for Australian Salmon was an Experience of a Lifetime!

When I first reached the beach at Eden I thought the prospects of catching anything at all were very slim-- I thought - the waves were too big and the wind was too strong. Anyway, some Aussie fishos were there before me and their heavy surf gear looked really cumbersome. They were using Pippies (the Singapore equivalent of La La) and I, on the other hand, was using large Pilchards about 15 - 20 cm each. The Aussies seemed to know what they were doing, and, as though to prove me right, one of them soon had a fully bent rod which resulted in a nice big Tailor.

 
Drooling, I quickly set up my gear - a 14 ft telescopic Shimano Surf Spin combined with a small Daiwa Twistbuster reel, and rigged up a whole Pilchard. No sooner had my bait hit the water just beyond the breakers when my line went taut and the Shimano was bent into a U-shape. The drag was zipping off and as I tried to see where my line went, I saw a fish jumping clear of the water in the distance... SALMON!!!
After a brief but violent struggle, with me running up and down the beach in order to pump the fish in, the Salmon lay glistening on the soft white sand. What a beauty!! It looked at least 2 kg.

This went on continuously for the next 2 hours till I ran out of bait. In the end, I only kept 6 fish and released the rest. By the way, the Aussie fishos were relegated to spectator status as they just could not cast to where the Salmon were with their cumbersome gear while my Shimano outfit gave me the distance I needed. I've got to give full credit to the rod.

The next day, armed with a 5 kg block of Pilchards and my trusty Shimano, I headed for the same beach and the action was even better than the day before. HOT! HOT! HOT! The memory of that second day will forever be etched in my mind. Words cannot express the thrilling experience I had as I caught and released many many big Salmon and some Tailor. Nowadays, I still dream of going back to Eden.

15kg GT caught in Singapore 1994

15 Oct 1994 -Singapore’s 15 kilo GT, caught during my University days… 1994

It was evening on the Bertram that good ol uncle Lawrence managed to bring us aboard from Natsteel at Loyang. Razali, my dad’s faithful pawang, was called upon to bring us to some good spots for an evening of fishing. He always delivers the goods! This time was no different.

After some moving around, I had lost my bearings in the night. Razali had brought us to several spots where all I managed to do was get stuck in some rocks or something. I was sick and tired of bursting my line and re-tying the rigs. At that time, boatfishing at night to me meant my trusty Berkley GF 19 boat rod, and my Penn 320 GTi loaded with 20 lb line. Mind you, 20 lb line was tough to burst!

So we anchored over some rocky spot and I had gotten stuck and burst my line AGAIN! When I finally retied my hook and baited up with a small prawn. Not wanting to let the others on the boat know that I’d given up for the night, I let down the line and did not let it reach the bottom. In fact, I just dangled the prawn a few feet below the boat. I just didn’t want to get stuck anymore! Then I sat back and relaxed, fiddling with the star drag on the 320.

Brendon was sitting beside me, and his rod tip was just beside mine. I was off on another stoning run, staring at nothing in particular, safe and secure in the fact that my bait was so far off the bottom, I could never get snagged… then…. tap.

It was a light tap, like my prawn was jumping, then tap… tap… Two light taps. Some small surface swimming fish had decided to mess with my bait, I guessed. Maybe a baby barracuda, I guessed further. Tap… vibrate… tap… tap. It felt like I was fishing for Pasir Pasir, but I was out at sea, anchored over some crazy snaggy bottom… and midwater? Impossible, I thought. I didn’t strike just yet. Tap… tap… tap… this tapping was quite fun, at least there was some action. I didn’t think my hook was small enough for whatever was nibbling at my bait.

I told Brendon, ‘See, there’s a small fish disturbing my bait.’ Brendon looked, and saw the tapping. He found it amusing. The tapping went on for another five minutes or so, and I was wondering when my prawn would run out of legs for the small fish to nibble on. Both of us just stared at the tapping, which became rather regular. Then I ran out of patience and thought I could foul hook the small bugger disturbing my bait.

‘See, I’m going to strike and see if I can accidentally hook the bugger,’ I told Brendon.

‘OK.’
Then I wound down till the rod tip was touching the water surface, and STRUCK!
‘SHIT! I’m stuck!’ I said, surprised. I thought my line was just a few feet below the boat.
‘Huh?’ Brendon replied.

Then ‘zzzzzzzth..ggggthh…jjjjgggtshaazzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!!’ Line started stripping off the 320 at amazing speed. ‘tthhhhtttthhhhgggggg… zzzzzzg….. zzzzzzggggthgthg!!!’ The ‘snag’ put its foot down on the accelerator and the turbocharger kicked in. I tried to put my thumb on the spool and it got burnt immediately.
‘Wah LAO!!!! What’s that?’ ‘BIG FISH!!!!’ ‘D..Damn big man!’ I stammered.

Everyone on the boat woke up from their slumber. Phrases like ‘all lines up’ and ‘he’s got a big one’ and ‘stingray’ floated in the air and got picked up by my ears as I struggled to hold on to my rod. I was losing line fast and I couldn’t do anything about it but hold on.

Razali came and stood beside me. So did my dad. They looked at my line and my rig and did not say a thing. Razali had seen this very same equipment handle a giant ray with a wingspan the width of a sampan (I had given up fighting that ray after about an hour and Razali had taken over to bring the ray to boatside during that episode, we released that monster ray)… he knew this rod and reel could handle monsters.

At one point, so much line had gone out that I could almost see the spool (but I must have imagined it)… and I thought I had lost. Then the fish slowed down, and the line cutting through the water at great speed from right to left made a high pitch whistling noise. It was changing direction! I took this chance to make about 4 or 5 turns of the handle when the line suddenly went slack.

‘Shucks! It’s gone!’ I mumbled. ‘What?’ ‘Burst.’ I said, as I reeled in slack line.
Then, POW! The line went taut again, and I realized that for a brief moment, the fish had swum towards the boat, and the good part was that I had managed to take in quite a bit of line.

“It’s still there!’ everybody said in unison.

But my glee soon turned to discouragement as the fish took off on another blistering (literally, for my thumb) run, showing me that it still had juice left. After a while, the fish slowed again and then began the tug of war. The battle of brute strength! My drag was set to the max during the fight and I started to fight what seemed like an impossible fight. For every turn of the handle I made, the fish pulled out more line than I took in. Even pumping and reeling seemed futile as the fish took drag even when I dropped the rod to turn the handle of the Penn. Have you ever had that feeling? When the pump and wind didn’t gain a single inch of line? This was the stalemate stage. Line didn’t come in. The good thing was, line didn’t go out too. It lasted for about 10 minutes and I was starting to feel the strain.

‘It’s not coming in,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, slowly, take your time,’ Dad said.

After what seemed like ages, I started to take in line, slowly starting to count the number of winds I could make. The fish had a tough jerky pull, unlike any ray I had encountered, and it soon became obvious to all that this was NOT a smelly old ray. Adrenalin coursed through my veins and my heart started thumping faster knowing that this was probably a good fish.

‘…three, four,’ Then the fish took line again. ‘… one, two…’ Lost some line again. But this was progress.
About 20 metres of line, I estimated, had been retrieved, when the fish, beyond anyone’s expectations, took off on another run as though the last 20 minutes meant nothing to it.

‘What the hell?!’ ‘Still going strong.’ ‘Yeah, but not me.’

Then the whole cycle repeated itself about 3 or 4 times, before finally, the pumping became easier. The fish was clearly tiring now. And then, after further muscle powered pumping, we all saw it. The flash of silver below the boat was unmistakable. All lamps on the boat were on by now and we all saw a huge silver rectangle moving some distance just in and out of the shadows.

“Mamong,’ Razali said.
That’s the first time I’d heard that word. I turned to my dad.
‘Giant Trevally,’ dad said, even without me asking.

I had read about it in Australian fishing magazines but never in my Singapore experience would I have expected this!

The landing net came out, and after some mini runs, and hurried discussions, the fish finally came close, and Razali guided the huge head of the fish into the landing net. But…

CCCGRAAAACK! The fish burst through the net, and I found myself fighting the fish though the loop of the net for a while before Razali put on some gloves and guided the fish into his waiting hands. He got a good grip on its tail and, after a brief pause, lifted the amazing Giant Trevally into the boat. We were all surprised to find my comparatively tiny O’Shaughnessy hook (size 1/0) embedded in a small corner of the fish’s lip. The hook slipped out easily, the fish was popped into the ice box, and I stumbled into the cabin for a rest. With the adrenalin rush over, my both arms were cramped from the fight, and I started to feel the pain in my ribs and stomach. We had no fighting belt on board cos no one expected such a fish. Anyway, I had the whole of the rest of my life to recover from the bruises around my stomach and ribs, caused by the butt of my rod, I thought…. as I lay down on the floor of the cabin, half asleep, the picture of this magnificent Giant Trevally would forever burn itself into my memory.

This was my most memorable Singapore fishing experience.

Here's another pic of the fish and a young Bryan.

1990-1992 were interesting years. From hunting Threadfin Salmon in Muar, to catching Patin from Bishan Pond, enlisting and still fishing on weekends at Pasir Ris Pond, Toman hunting at Kranji and Pole fishing at Marina. I tried various forms of fishing just for the experience.

Left to right:

That's my first lure caught Barramundi from Pasir Ris Pond before it became a commercial fishing pond.

I used to cast net for prawns and dig for Tua Tao and Remis (La La) at the Kranji Dam area.

Sometimes at Jurong Lake, I get lots of fibre.

Even when out partying at Canto Pop in Marina South, I had time to cast a lure for big Tomans at night, because the Discotheque was next to the pond.

Catching stingrays from Bedok Jetty on weekends was always fun.

1989 The Luring Era

My favourite lures were the Abu Toby for Ikan Haruan (a type of Snakehead almost like the Toman), the Nilsmaster Invincible Deep Diver, the Rapala Shad Rap and the Rapala Original.

From left to right: An adult Ikan Haruan caught on and Abu Toby; (inset) I managed to snap this pic as I was slowly bringing the fish in; another Haruan with my trusty Daiwa reel and 4 lb line; a Ladyfish makes a final jump near my feet before giving up; a typical Ladyfish (or Giant Herring as some call it)... all fish here were released. 

By the way, do you know where these fish were caught? Marina South. I think they plan on developing this area into Gardens by the Bay.

The Ikan Haruan, a close cousin of the Toman...

... is an avid Toby eater. But small Rapalas have worked well on them too. Come to think of it, I haven't caught an Haruan (pronounced ARE-RWAN) in a long time. Aggressive fighters, but lacking in stamina, the Haruan, unlike the Toman, does not normally grow larger than 2 kg... so I took them for granted. Now, where can they be found???? 

Wanna see what Pasir Ris Pond looked like before it was turned into a commercial pond? Look at the picture where I'm releasing a Ladyfish in the bottom row... yes, those are houses in the background... are you surprised?

From left to right: Another Herring aka Ladyfish on an Abu Toby; Keeping the struggling Haruan from reaching the weeds was a challenge; Hey, the lens cover is blocking my Ladyfish!; Releasing a Ladyfish to fight another day (little did I know the tranquil pond I was fishing in was going to be turned into Pasir Ris Fishing Pond!!!!!) 

One basic key to successful lure fishing is silence...

... in fact, silence is important for success in most forms of fishing. So if you ever wonder why you don't catch many fish, check your volume.

 

The few exceptions to the silence rule are rather interesting. One form of fishing I know, Giant Catfish fishing, requires the angler to constantly beat the water with a stick. The other exception, which is even more weird but widely practiced among local fishermen, is Snapper Fishing, where the fisherman is supposed to make 'FART' sounds with his line. (I have to admit, I use this 'FART' Snapper Fishing method now and then too, in more ways than one.) Here is how the sound is made with monofilament line. With your handline in the water, wet your hands, pinch the line tightly between the fingers and slide it down the line. The friction would produce a sound and vibration which presumably travels all the way down the line to attract Snapper. Razali and my dad used to do this all the time - I'm sure there's some reason behind it.

1986-1989 The Early Days - Luring at Marina Bay

1986 How it Began

I was still in Secondary One then, the year was 1986, and I had just bought my first lightweight baitcasting outfit as well as a single Nilsmaster lure. So I made my way down to a spot where I'd been having some years of luck with Garoupas and Snappers on sawdust worms -- Marina Bay and the Esplanade Area.

 

It was a quiet morning and I had already eagerly set up my gear while walking from the bus stop to the Bay. I was going to try lure fishing for the first time because I'd read quite a lot about it in Aussie magazines and was convinced of its effectiveness.

9 AM. So, after a little fiddling with my new baitcaster, I made the first cast. Bird's Nest. My very first backlash caught me by surprise... so that's what the shopkeeper at Beach road was telling me about... so I took some time to clear the tangle (a backlash on 6 lb line is not that easy to clear you know?) and, standing at the water's edge, made my second cast. This time, although there was still a little Char Bee Hoon, the black and white Nilsie managed to land about 20 ft away (very near actually). So I quickly cleared the minor backlash and started a sink-and-draw retrieve like the one I'd been reading about (though I was using a floating lure). Anyway, only after a few cranks of the handle, I felt a distinct tug and I struck.

The fight was brief, but it still managed to attract the attention of a passing Caucasian tourist who saw me lifting a nice little Garoupa weighing around 300 grams out of the water. I was really pleased and amazed at the catch plus the way I caught it, so was the tourist, who promptly snapped my picture (the one you see above), asked for my address, and mailed me the photo... which is posted above.

By the way, I released that fish, and four more which I landed within an hour from the same spot. By 10 AM, I packed up and went home, afraid that I was pushing my luck a little too far, yet fully satisfied with my first lure-fishing cum catch & release expedition.

1988-1989

Those were the days I used to rush down to Marina Bay every Friday after school with a few of my classmates to do a spot of lure fishing. At times, the Garoupas were so abundant that we could have mini competitions among ourselves. Of course, the occasional Trevally, Queeny, Barracuda, Mangrove Jack, Barra and Snapper showed up once in a while to add variety.

Although getting stuck was already a problem back then, we had HUMAN LURE RETRIEVERS assigned for each particular day so that only one person had to get wet... no doubt swimming and diving for our lures was a messy and risky method (and I still don't know what made us do it time and time again), it made the whole experience so much more enriching. BUT DON"T ASK ME TO DO IT AGAIN!!! Nevertheless, those were damn good days man!!! 

Lures are expensive...

... and in the past, although my cousin Justin did tell me about the lure retriever back in the 80's, we had to dive for our lures.

Of course the risks were there. Many a time I had cuts on my feet so long and deep that I thought I would never survive; and sometimes our fingers got poked and cut by the hooks on our lures as we groped in the murky water.

Once you dive beneath the surface, visibility is reduced to less than an arm's length and you have nothing to guide you except the thin monofilament. You just have to keep going down and down, following the line till you reach the lure.

Normally a simple tug would do the trick. But the key point would be to get a firm hold on the body of the lure, and then you pull hard. Sometimes the hooks would straighten, sometimes the hooks would be so deeply embedded in thick ropes that you had to bring the whole snagpile up, but the method ALWAYS worked.

$10 was a lot to me as a schoolboy back in the 80's and losing a lure often meant we had to go without lunch during recess for a whole week so save up for another lure. Maybe in retrospect, diving for lures was not such a bad idea after all, it provided some excitement in itself and helped our machismo (to some extent). So tell me, who do you know has taken the plunge in the Singapore River or Marina Bay? 

1988 - William, Boon Chee and Simon... with our Rapalas and Nilsmasters, and Raymond at Hock Heng telling us jokes... ah, those were the days!