Could it happen again. Surely not?

I had been fishing for six hours, with a couple of schoolies to show for my efforts, when it was time to pack up. Again, I had maybe ten minutes at most before I had to leave before my parking ran out, when I received a knock...

Earlier I pulled up along the foreshore and paid for my ticket before making the walk to my spot. I had booked the day off in advance due to a combination of tides and weather. Well, at least the tides hadn't changed. The hoped for stormy south-westerlies had been replaced by a benign offshore breeze and blazing hot sun. I was so glad I brought sunblock with me.

Contrary to popular belief, I don't mind these conditions at the right time of year, so out went the first cast, three and a half hours before high tide. The usual setup, a large mackerel head and a gentle underarm plop. I sat back with the rod held and started to let the conditions slowly take over. It was warm, in fact, it became incredibly warm, and if I hadn't been prepared, I would have been burnt to a crisp as this spot is such a sun trap. Incredible to think we are in October.

After about 40 minutes, I experienced a series of missed bass runs from over enthusiastic schoolies until I scaled down the bait size and hooked one of the culprits at around 2 lb. Feeling reasonably confident they were all that size, I reverted back to my large mackerel head and hoped the larger bass would make an appearance at some point.

An hour before high tide, I received another run that just felt better, and sure enough, as the line tightened to the rod, I felt the satisfying thump as the rod bent over. It was a lovely, strong fight, and I landed a slightly better one at 3¼ lb. An interested dog walker was delighted to see it swim away strongly.

I texted Rob, 'they’re getting bigger', and we both felt a good one was on the cards. But that was it. Over high tide and three hours down, not a touch.

Until, with just ten minutes left, I felt another knock. The braid moved in that unmistakable way of a large bass teasing the bait. I was ten yards back from the shoreline, so I crept forward, eyes locked on the line where it entered the water, feeling every twitch.

Surely not, I thought.

Another twitch.

Then the line began to move away.

My pulse quickened.

And then, just like that, the 'big bass' revealed itself to be another schoolie, tearing off with the bait in a short burst of youthful enthusiasm.

I could only laugh.

'Really?'

With that, I wound in, packed up, and started the walk back to the car.