NO PAIN NO GAIN !! Isn’t it amazing how resilient the human body is, and how undying optimism is rewarded by success. Well “for some” anyway. Let me tell you a real life story of how five men’s optimism, one man’s pain, and two pommy holiday maker’s sheer hell, turned into a great day out ...“for some”. (*NB: The names of the people in this story have been changed to protect their fragile egos.)

Well it all started with a phone call while I was at work. “Andy! I’ve got great news. My work mates have organised a charter boat trip this weekend and a couple of guys pulled out. Do you want to go?” What a stupid question! What he should have said was...”Have you got clearance from the war office this weekend?” It’s usually me that invites “Plugger” out for a fishing trip in my little 3.7m Stacer powered by a 4hp Mariner. And it’s me that has to wait for him to get clearance from the war office, often resulting in cancelled trips or solo sorties out from Mindarie. So this was too good to pass up even if it meant teaming up with four guys from Carlton United Brewery whom I had already heard stories about that had me in both awe and mortal fear all at the same time.

It must be hard living up to the envy of most red-blooded Aussies. That is, to have a job that requires you to drink copious amounts of amber fluid at the company’s expense. The night before the fateful trip was no exception. “Plugger” had a night at the footy with the guys at work including his boss. Now, knowing “Plugger” I’m sure he was just thinking of his upcoming annual performance review and so used the night to demonstrate his exceptional drinking abilities. Whilst everyone else was drinking mid strength “Plugger” opted for the “no holds barred “ approach and proceeded to out do the opposition on Crown Lagers. I still don’t know whether or not he managed to impress the boss but do know his little escapade made him feel pretty seedy the next day. So at 6-30am {gentlemen’s hours) I faithfully arrived at his house only to be greeted at the door by the “supreme commander”

“Where’s Plugger?” I inquired.

“Poor darling” she said “He’s not the best... He’s been on the toilet for the past hour and it doesn’t sound too good.... If you know what I mean?”

I knew what she meant! ... I smelt what she meant! ( Having experienced the Pluggmeister in full roar and not being unable to escape ie.; he only lets rip when its dead flat calm and we’re in the middle of a red hot bite... not only does it make your nose hairs singe but the noise generated by that more than ample behind resonates in the little tinny and scares the fish off for at least half an hour.)

“Macca! How the hell are ya?” ... Plugger had emerged, trailing a visible aroma that defies description . “Let’s go buddy the guys will be waiting”... “give us a hand with the esky”.

Another benefit of working for a brewery is the amount of free grog and promotional gear these guys have at their disposal. So there we were carrying our VB esky choc-a-block full of beer, a VB carry bag full of food, cameras, Matilda Bay bar runners, Fosters Lite stubby holders, and wearing our VB windcheaters and Carlton Cold baseball caps. The sheer weight in the esky suggested we were the designated refreshment providers for the whole group. I should have known!!... The sight of “Plugger’s” work mates with an esky each made the pit of my stomach constrict a couple of inches and my Adam's apple well up in the back of my throat. “Shit! Are you guys actually going to get time to fish in between all that lot?” I was still in shock. “ARGH YA WOOS” they replied in unison. (My stomach took another notch, as I knew my own fragile ego wouldn’t allow me to withstand the challenge for long. I would have to regain some of my manly bravado by joining in with their inhuman consumption of alcohol)

We loaded the boat and set about introducing ourselves to one another. There was only our group and two teenage backpackers from London. They looked very much in love and quite excited about their first ever fishing trip. The skipper came down from the bridge to introduce himself and double check that we all still wanted to go.( The sky was fairly dark and ominous and the weather report suggested 3m swells.) The deckies included the skipper’s wife who struck me as being a real salty, more so than the skipper. She asked everyone if they would like a sea sickness tablet and I was shocked that Plugger was the only one to take her up on the offer. I have to admit that I have a pretty strong stomach when it comes to rough weather and only ever spew at the sight, sound and smell of someone committing that same vile act right next to me, but knowing what was in store for me (alcohol wise) I was tempted to request a tablet myself. Only my ego told me that I could hack it! The skipper tried to comfort the backpackers , who were already starting to show signs of nerves, by telling them that the swell was only likely to be 1m and the clouds would blow away pretty soon. {I’m sure he thought they were ready to jump ship and he’d miss out on the fare.} The engines started and we headed out of the harbour, only to be greeted by swell that would have seen the Cray boys head back for the sanctuary of the pub on what is known in the industry as a two day pull. A quick glance back to the car park revealed not a single empty trailer... we were all on our own.

The boys embarked on the usual joke telling session whilst clinging on to the canopy for dear life. “Plugger” is usually very talkative and the centre of attention, but he was strangely quiet. His workmates continued their banter, with “Plugger” being so quiet and seemingly unable to defend himself, they set upon him with jokes like... “Hey maybe we should head for Rotto and shelter in Thompson’s Bay”... “Naw ...we’ll just get Plugger to jump in and we can shelter behind him” { a reference to Plugger’s large frame} Normally the immediate response from Plugger would have been worthy of Paul Keating on a roll, but today he had only two words to say ... “RALPH" & "HEWIE” At first I thought it was a reference to another work mate of larger proportions but then a quick glance confirmed the ample frame at 45 degrees over the edge spewing his guts up was indeed “Plugger”. Now this was the perfect moment to provide the rest of the guys with an opportunity to slam dunk him by going to the esky and offering everyone a beer. At which point the look of disbelief on the poor backpacker's faces was priceless. In one moment they had managed to confirm their opinion of all Aussies as beer swilling yobbos of the highest order. In a vain attempt at saving face “Plugger” suggested “One spew and I’m right!” The backpackers were now pleading for a sea sickness tablets to which the skipper’s wife replied “A bit late if you ask me!” How right she was as no sooner had the tablet gone down ... it was back up again as the spew fest gathered victims.

About an hour out from Mindarie the skipper came down with what is unheard of in charter fishing circles “Does anyone want to head back?”... Perhaps he was having second thoughts as the bow ploughed into waves of over 4m ... A quick glance into everyone’s eyes for any signs of weakening bravado followed by four “No Way’s”, a very timid “I’ll be right” and the backpacker girl’s brave suggestion that she didn’t want to spoil it for anyone. Immediately I felt very sorry for her as I had previously witnessed my father-in-law have to endure nine hours of hell on father's day last year. Spewing from the moment he got aboard to the moment we docked. Nine hours over a toilet wishing you were dead is not the best father's day present I could have given him. Anyway I knew what she must have been thinking... trapped on a boat in 4m swells with a bunch of Neanderthal's intent on pushing their stomachs to the limit by drinking beer and eating cheese and pickled onion sandwiches at 8-00 am in the morning ...But she hung in there!

The first stop was over good ground but holding bottom was difficult as the boat yawed severely. I must say that fishing off a boat designed for diving is not my idea of comfort at the best of times, but with a massive swell it made life unbearable, you see the seats are facing inwards so you can’t brace yourself against the gunwale and fish like on other boats. Finally I opted for a plastic chair positioned as close to the edge as possible. “Plugger” was next to me squeezed into the corner of the stern and looking worse for wear. A quick dash for the other side of the boat and he had another berley stream letting loose. Thankfully it was out of ear shot otherwise I might have been joining him.

He was back again and looking decidedly better and immediately hooked up on something large. I think I was more excited than anyone else and alerted his mates who just couldn’t help themselves with early calls of “Norwest Blowie for sure” purely to rib poor old “Plugger”. It’s funny but as soon as you say something like that it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy, and sure enough after a few minutes the sight of a 10kg Blowie dampened everyone’s spirits. All except the backpackers who had been awakened from their nauseous slumber by all the commotion. They were bemused by our lack of enthusiasm and utterly ‘sickened’ by the skipper’s live filleting procedure. I hadn’t heard of anyone using NW Blowie for bait and decided to stick to a mulie / occy cocktail that had seen me well in the past. “Plugger” however was open to the idea and replaced his bait with Blowie fillet.

The drift had ended and the skipper repositioned us for another pass. Enough time for “one spew Plugger” to set up another berley trail. The drop resulted in a few bites but nothing hooked , until I spied “Plugger’s” rod arc severely. He didn’t say a word {perhaps for fear of losing his lunch again, or for fear of getting falsely excited by another Blowie} After a few minutes I couldn’t help myself again and called it for a Dhuie, hoping that a bit of optimism wouldn’t go astray. His mates all offered the Blowie prophecy and the odd suggestion of a ‘Chunk fish’ (referring to “Plugger’s” berleying tactics). But low and behold a magnificent specimen surfaced with the obligatory “whoop’s and yahoo’s” that accompany any notable capture. The backpackers rose again and now were consumed with enthusiasm having seen a superb fish land in the fishbox. They braved the swell to wet their first line of the trip.

The next few hours saw a few juvenile Dhue’s go back and an assortment of small reef fish end up as bait, but nothing to write home about. “Plugger spent those same few hours asleep , sound in the knowledge that he had caught a decent fish, and the war office would be pleased. The swell didn’t ease and the Brewery Boys started slowing right down on their consumption. I felt pretty darn good even in the absence of a fish of my own. Now was my chance to make good my earlier loss of face by cracking my first of many beers and downing a cold sausage “hot dog” much to the disgust of the rest of the crew. I know it might sound strange but just being out there on a boat in foul weather is a rewarding experience for me. W hether it’s the challenge of fishing in extremes or the closeness to nature you feel when you are at it’s mercy, either way I get a buzz out of it. Top the day off with a trip back to “Plugger’s” house to help him finish off the Dhuie for tea followed by the obligatory Crown Lager or three and you can’t help but thank the lord for blessing me with a cast iron stomach and the good sense not to work for a Brewery. Andy Mac