24 Hours, Rain, Hail and Shine: Chasing Brisbane River Giants on Lures

24 Hours, Rain, Hail and Shine: Chasing Brisbane River Giants on Lures

There are fishing sessions you plan, and then there are sessions that completely run away from you. This was one of those.

I launched solo into the Brisbane River with perfect tides and a heap of fresh rainwater pushing through the system. The river felt incredibly oxygenated. You could smell it, you could feel it, and in places, you could see the water bubbling and churning with life.

Bait was everywhere. Sharks were everywhere. The sounder was constantly lit up, it didn't take long to realise the river was absolutely firing.

I'd gone out with one simple plan: chase king threadfin salmon and mulloway on lures and fish the tides properly. What I didn't expect was for the bite to just keep going.

Through rain, hail, sunshine, darkness and eventually back into daylight, and then back into the darknes, the fish stayed on the chew. I hadn't planned on staying out there for 24 hours. The only reason I did was because I honestly couldn't bring myself to leave while it was still happening.

Dirty Water, Perfect Tides

The Brisbane River had been hammered by rain in the lead-up to the session and the freshwater pushing through had completely transformed it. The water felt alive, and for me, those conditions screamed fish.

Freshwater and dirty water can push bait into particular areas, current lines become more defined and bigger predators can use the reduced visibility to their advantage. The amount of bait around was ridiculous. Everywhere I looked there was movement and, where there's that much bait, you know the predators aren't going to be far away.

I started working lures through the areas I knew had potential, watching the sounder and trying to stay with the concentrations of bait.

It didn't take long.

The first hit was savage. Then another came. Then another.

Before long, it became one of those rare sessions where you stop wondering whether you're going to get a bite and start wondering what you're going to hook next.

The Sharks are Relentless Here 

There were sharks everywhere. With that much bait concentrated throughout the river, they weren't going to miss out. Every hooked fish suddenly became a race. Get it up, get it controlled and get it boat side before something else decided to get involved. It added another element to an already hectic session. The Brisbane River has this gritty, industrial atmosphere that makes fishing it unique. Container ships, cranes and working port infrastructure surround you, yet underneath the boat you've got huge schools of bait, sharks and some seriously big predatory fish.

When the river fires like this, you're quickly reminded just how wild it can be.

Rain, Hail and Shine

I genuinely got all of it.

I continued fishing into the rain, sunshine, wind, darkness, and just about everything in between. The conditions kept changing, but the fish didn't seem to care. Normally, after a long stretch on the water, you start thinking about the ramp, a decent feed, a shower and some sleep. Not this time.

Every time I thought “one more drift” something would happen. Another big mark on the sounder. Another bait ball. Another savage hit. Another threadfin. Another mulloway.

Then I'd look at the time and somehow another few hours had disappeared. That's how a planned fishing session turns into 24 hours.

Big Threadfin at night. Big Mulloway in the day. More threadfin through the morning and arvo. Fish under the port lights. Fish beside container ships. Fish with cranes in the background. Fish in the rain and fish in the sunshine.

By the end of it, I had more photos than I knew what to do with.

And that's when you know you've had one of those sessions. Not just a good fishing trip, but one you're going to remember for a very long time.

The Threadfin Were the Absolute Standouts.

Big golden fish. Proper Brisbane River giants. A big threadfin coming through that dirty river water is something else. You don't see much at first. Then suddenly a huge golden flank rolls beside the boat, those long filaments come into view, and you realise just how big the fish is. Some of these fish were monsters. The kind of fish that fill your arms when you hold them and somehow make the boat look smaller in the photos. The best part was the way they were eating lures. I wasn't sitting around waiting for something strike. I was actively hunting them: watching the sounder, reading the current, finding the bait and putting casts into the right areas. When everything lined up, the rod would simply load up. That’s the part of lure fishing I love. You find the fish, make the cast and feel that moment when something big decides to eat what you've put in front of it. These fish are something else hey!

Mulloway and More Threadfin into the Wet Night.

Big shoulders. Huge mouths. Silver slabs. They fight differently to the Threadfin. There's a deep, powerful weight to them with pumping headshakes, when a big fish turns sideways in the current and decides it wants absolutely nothing to do with the boat, you know you have something special on the lighter gear. At night, seeing a big mulloway materialise out of black water beside the boat is hard to beat. One minute you're looking into darkness, feeling nothing but weight through the rod, and then suddenly that big silver flank appears underneath you. That’s a sight that never gets old. 

What a Welcome Sunrise the next day

The sun comes up and suddenly you're doing it all over again. That became the theme of the entire session. Night became morning. Morning became rain. Rain became clear skies. Clear skies turned ugly again.

Every time I seriously thought about calling it, another fish would show up.

Solo Fishing Hits Different

There's something different about doing a session like this alone.

There's no one else on the boat. No one to net the fish. No one to hold the rod while you move something. No one to take over when you're exhausted.

Every decision is yours. Every mistake is yours. And somehow every fish means that little bit more.

When you hook a big fish solo, particularly at night, there's always a moment of controlled chaos. Rod in one hand, trying to position the boat, current pushing you around, fish circling underneath and the net inevitably somewhere it shouldn't be.

Throw sharks into the equation and things get interesting very quickly. Then somehow you get everything under control and that fish finally appears beside the boat.

You look down at it and think, how good is this?

A few minutes later everything is sorted, the lure is back in the water and you're hunting for the next one.

Twenty-Four Hours Later

By the time I finally pointed the boat back towards the ramp, I was absolutely wrecked. The hours fishing solo, soaked to the skin, begging my Mrs to bring me some dry clothes to the ramp, hours after not coming home when I said I would. The struggle was real!

What could I do?

Perfect tides, bait everywhere, and one of the most relentless lure bites I've ever experienced.

The Brisbane River gets overlooked. People drive over it every day. They sit beside it, commute along it and watch container ships moving through it, probably without ever really thinking about what's swimming beneath the Brown Snake. Every now and then, the river gives you a reminder. Big king threadfin salmon. Big mulloway, Jacks, Snapper, Tailor, Queenfish, Even the odd Barra. Huge schools of Heiring and Prawns, Sharks and predators absolutely everywhere, and all of it happening beneath the cranes, ships and city lights in the middle of urban Brisbane. 

I only planned to fish the tides for that evening. I stayed for 24 hours because the fish simply stayed on the chew, when the river is giving you that much, you don't leave.

George Anastasiadis - @george_anasta_angler