Barra fishing on Bullo River
Relaxing With An Ol’ Pastime
Bullo River Station is a 1,600 square kilometre cattle station tucked away in a remote corner of the Northern Territory. Guests can ride horses, help muster cattle, view Aboriginal rock art, go fishing, and swim at the remarkably beautiful Cascades.
There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune…
Shakespeare must have been an amateur fisherman. How else could he have written those words in Julius Caesar? The scene is supposed to be about Brutus’ desire to seize the moment in a Roman war, but the words just as aptly describe a moment on the banks of the Northern Territory’s Bullo River when the tide turns and big fat barramundi are there for the catching.
In fact, if you happened to be fishing at Bullo River at just such a time, there’s a good chance that you’d hear local fishing expert Trevor Bennett utter words to that effect.
Bennet has a dream job. He’s a fishing fanatic and knows everything there is to know about catching ’barra, those delicious trophy fish that Northern Territorians spend a lifetime in pursuit of. He also works at Bullo River Station, a massive Northern Territory cattle station which welcomes a handful of guests who are keen to fish, muster cattle, swim in gorgeously remote waterholes and otherwise enjoy the trappings of Outback life.
Bennett’s job for today is to maximise the likelihood that we’ll catch a ’barra for dinner. We know we’re onto a good thing when he turns up with a selection of rods and bait, then drives us out to what he reckons is one of Bullo River’s best spots for fishing.
“When you hook one,” he says, “let it run. You have to let ’em tire before you start reeling ’em in.”
They’re promising words. But the truth is that when we first cast our lines into the Bullo we get nothing but a few nibbles. The fish seem to be toying with us mere mortals standing on the banks of the Bullo, ankle deep in mud, baking in the afternoon sun.
A pair of eagles watch us from their nest in an old gum tree on the other side of the river. They’ve seen it all before, and know they may get a free feed if they play their cards right. One of them launches a reconnaissance flight, circling and then swooping underneath our fishing lines as if to assert prior claim to whatever swims beneath.
Bullo is croc-infested tidal river, flanked by mudflats and allegedly thick with ’barra. But they’re still not biting. The tide is coming in at speed, though, and we watch as the river spills inexorably across the mudflats, turning our footprints into salty puddles and then, a few minutes later, converting these puddles into pools.
Watching the tide turn is surprisingly therapeutic. Bennett, however, is getting restless. There’s a spot further up river, he says, where we’re sure to do well. But we need to be there now, when the tide is just so. We reel in the fishing lines, scramble into the ute and speed off.
After ten minutes or so, hoots of excitement fill the air. One of our party, Christina, has hooked a fish. She lets it run as instructed and eventually reels in a lovely silver barramundi. It’s big and shiny and good enough to feed a family of four.
Bennett moves quickly to despatch the ’barra by knifing it in the guts. The joy of fishing is writ large on Christina’s face. Meanwhile, somewhere beyond the Outback, the soul of a long-dead English playwright is no doubt delighted to see that ancient Roman dramas are replayed in the simple act of fishing for ’barra on the Bullo River.
Tags: Australia, Barramundi, Bullo River Station, Fishing, Northern Territory
