rotting

We'd been wondering why the dogs were interested in the bag.

It had lain on the laundry floor for a couple of weeks after our latest Rottnest sojourn. It had done sterling work as the bait bag, so a little whiffiness was to be expected.

Eventually Mrs Rotto Bloggo (Thomson Bay Queen) suggested it might be time to give it the old gwersh-gwersh in the Whirlpool.

No worries - we even managed to hang it out to dry afterwards.

But the next day the bag had a funny weight.

Inside was a forgotten pizza base which had grown its own extensive selection of, er, natural toppings.

Astonishingly very little detergent had penetrated the plastic wrapper.

Rotto Bloggo is all for pushing those use-by date envelopes, but even we put this in the bin quick-smart.

Apologies for the three week absence: reporting commitments, Media Ball madness and a killer head cold.

crouton

A mixture of good and bad news from the beautiful island.

It's like a The Worst of Perth moving convention over there: the latest identity to grace Rottnest is notorious PR thug and blogger Cookster.

He texted us: 'Where to go> Snorkelling at Salmon Bay, or simply floating around in the cool, crystal clear waters of Little Parakeet? Is there any better smell than summer sun and salt on skin, mixed with Rottnest Island pines and the tang of crusted salt lake foam carried in the warm breeze..."

Wanker!

This from Kim, on the Gluten Free Aussie blog: "I just returned from a weekend in Rottnest, which would have been fantastic except for a bad experience..."

Check out the link for the rest. People are so litigious. There was a crouton issue.

all natural

Rotto Bloggo's new year resolution is to swim from thje natural jetty to Phillip Rock. How hard can it be? When you're standing there waiting for a garfish it looks half a hop away - a bit like the view from Cottesloe to the beautiful island.

We'd have to be watchful for Rottnest Express, the supply ship and a few other craft, but it would be a doddle. The island looks accessible once we're there.

These are shots from last week. The waves washing over the natural jetty, and nowhere to put bait, rods, caught fish etc, make the place a thrilling fishing experience. The creature featured is a Leopard Wirra.

memories

Can you believe the amount of Rottnest news? We can't. James Packer lunches at the hotel on Thursday, there's a boat missing north of the beautiful island, and Shazza spends a weekend in Thomson Bay.

It all happens there. We muts have just missed Packer: we caught the 1030 ferry back that day. We hope his meal was better to the last one we had there.

Memories of last week's four exquisite days on Rotto persist. One was of strange behaviour on the beach at Geordie. A bloke motored in from his costly yacht and cleaned and gutted fish on the sand. He was too close to the water. He was perturned by the gulls - at at one stage took up a karate stance, knife in hand, to confront the pesky birds. It went on for about half-an-hour. He seemed to throw a few cleaned and gutted fish into the water. Then he putted back to his yacht. Strange days indeed.

We trust it's not him who said in the mayday call: "I'm experiencing problems with electricals on board due to the actual taking on of water. Judging by the current flow rate into the actual vessel, I've probably got between 40 and 50 minutes before I'm going to have to abandon the vessel."

day 3 Geordie

Surrounded by sea: that is the exciting experience that is extreme fishing on Rottnest.

The fishing scenes on the beautiful island are varied. You can wet a line from a jetty, or rocks, a beach - or at Henrietta you can wade out on the reef and have the beach behind you.

But for water all around there is the natural jetty. You're so far out at low tide it seems like just a hop and a skip to Phillip Rock (but watch out for the ferries!).

The tide surges around you, the water is that deep Rotto blue, there's nowhere to put your bait and you have to be mindful of balance and footing - it is a satisfyingly extreme fishing experience.

We weren't disappointed today: herring, skipjack and a cod or two were landed.

At 1700 we also dropped in to our regular perch at the end of Geordie Bay: more herring and skippy were plucked from the water.

And we saw a snake on the just before the Geordie hill, the alarm went off at the (closed) Aristos, we had a (luke warm) coffee at Dome, the leftover roast from last night was still marvellous.

For lunch today we fired up the smoker. We spread a small amount of mallee sawdust/chips on the inside tray, laid our fillets on the rack above, lit the meths cup below - and left it alone.

After 60 seconds it was smoking like a thousand joss sticks. Eight minutes with the flame - then whip out the flame and let the fillets sit for five minutes, absorbing more smoky goodness.

It was the best smoked stuff we'd ever had: delicate, flavoursome, a hint of honey and spice. And not too fishy. You can even do vegetables in it.

We'll have smoked herring for breakfast, but tonight it's gently fried skipjack and garfish with baked potato and an apple crumble for dessert. And a few German beers.

smokin' & stirin'

The smoker was deployed at lunch: what a remarkable device it is.

A full report later of the smoker and our extreme fishing exploits at the natural jetty, but we couldn't let this worst spelling wait until then. Seen at the Geordie Bay cafe.

How sweet it is on Rottnest.

day 2 geordie

The first full day, and it's been sensational. Much fruits de la mer have been plucked from various locations around the beautiful island - some were thrown back.

We started out at Henrietta Rocks. It was satisfying to indulge in some extreme fishing (wading out in the surf on the reef) but the haul was not huge: we were casting into the teeth of a south-westerly. We're all highly sceptical of any Bureau of Meteorology forecast.

So we had a look out near the West End and settled on Mable Cove, on the other side of Rottnest. Conditions were a little better, but they were hardly jumping into the bucket.

By then it was 1430: we headed back to Thomson to eat (spinach and feta rolls for Rotto Bloggo). Bought the papers, back to the pad - until about 1700, when we were galvanised into action when we realised we'd have nothing to eat (the other three have a lamb roast on the go for tonight).

So we walked 500m to the rocks at the southern-most point of Geordie Bay, where we wet a line last night - and the difference was remarkable. The herring (and more than one skipjack) were in a frenzy and leapt onto the line. So Rotto Bloggo has ample fillets while the others chow down on their red meat.

While the lamb was in the oven Bealo knocked a few more pages of Middlemarch.

day 1 geordie

Mixed success on our first fishing foray. Your reporter caught four-fifths of fuck-all, but the other three hauled in the garfish, bait fish, herring and a magnificent squid. Those squid are full of ink. And they taste superb on pizza.

The ferry was late: we blame the Rottnest Island Authority. At least the ferry wasn't weighed down by Bealo's rods: he forgot them. Mind you we forgot the pizza trays.

Our plush Geordie Bay unit is absolute beachfront: the young worker who checked on our equipment was very efficient. She spotted we were light-on for knives and fixed us up.

It doesn't get any better than this. Some are whinging about how cold it is, but we are just thankful for the freshest air in the world.

A special thank-you to Rottnest police, who had a rod or two they could share - it meant Bealo didn't have to use the cheap and nasty handline.


Now we will make a dent in a carton of Coopers and plan our angling assault tomorrow.