I’m Dreaming of a Whiting Christmas : A story about first time fishing for King Geoge Whiting

The trip had been planned for months. Ever since it was locked in, Steve had been filling me in on the how-to’s and why-for’s of fishing for King George whiting. It certainly seemed like a whole different kettle of long, skinny fish!

Coming from a lure fishing background, bait fishing seems almost meditative to me. The dropping or casting of your bait, the watchful monitoring of the line as your offering flutters through the current to the sandy bed, the retrieval of slack line so that your finger tips can feel the very pulse of an interested fish and the focused wait to strike. It’s the epitome of intense relaxation.

You can imagine my intrigue at the concept of using an entirely different rig in the quest for the much sought-after King George whiting. The prospect that a bottom-feeding fish may sometimes choose to feed slightly off the sea floor above low lying weed is not completely astounding—nor are King George whiting the only species to do it—yet there is a rig specifically developed for catching this species as opposed to others—very intriguing indeed.

Being the inquisitive bod that I am, I questioned the reasons for the rigs’ development—after all, whiting are caught all over the country, but this particular rig is favoured only in the King George strongholds of South Australia, Victoria and southern Western Australia.

The “Paternoster Whiting Rig”, as it’s commonly known, is a two-hooked dropper rig with one distinct difference from others—the sinker sits BETWEEN the two hooks, not below. This allows the longer, bottom hook link to lie unweighted along the sea floor, where “King George” is most likely to feed, whilst hedging its bets with a shorter alternative bait hook dropper suspending approximately 20cms above.

Steve and I pondered this point over a couple of afternoons and after much theorising, philosophising and a little Googling, there seems to be a number of factors that make this version of the Paternoster rig more favourable for King George whiting. The fixed sinker (usually substantially heavier than the running sinkers used for other whiting species) is able to get through the deeper waters and hold in the stronger currents where the larger King George are found.

The possibility that your sinker might land and hold in a weedy patch where the whiting were unlikely to sit posed another benefit. With the fixed sinker being in between the two baits, the longer, unweighted bottom bait has a chance to work along the bottom in the current and (hopefully) find the weeds edge, while the shorter dropper floats higher to attract fish and/or snare a passing feeder.

Equally important, though, was the theory of the impact that a heavier running sinker at depth might have on your ability to discern the King George bites all those metres below. With this specific rig, the sinker is fixed to a short dropper (only about 6cms in length) from the leader. The bites from the fish pull against the sinker, not through it, making it easier to feel through the belly of the line.

Regardless of the true motivation to innovate, however, the old saying still goes… “when in Rome!”

And so it was that my tackle bag was filled with ready-made Mustad whiting rigs as we made our way to South Australia, dreaming of a whiting Christmas.

My first encounter with the enigmatic King George actually came sooner than we anticipated. This particular South Oz fishing trip had two destinations, two targets: Arno Bay for pink snapper and Kangaroo Island for King George whiting. After a blustery, action-filled one and a half hours on Arno Bay, we had already caught our quote of large snapper (that’s an adrenalin-packed story for another day) and so needed to look for another avenue for fishy fun.

Our skipper, “Fuzz”” of Fuzzell’s Fishing Adventures, turned to us with a slightly concerned expression, “We’ve bagged out, guys. Are you happy to try for some King George whiting?”

“Why not?” I replied as I flung a permission-seeking look across the rolling deck to Steve. “I can get some practise in!”

With the decision made, Fuzz moved the vessel to another spot as Dave, our deckie for the day, prepared some bait. Green prawns and squid were the choice options on offer for the fish that day, with Dave advising that the green prawns were his favourite for the King George. I never asked Dave what his surname was, but I can tell you now that he proved to be a mighty dab hand when it comes to pinning these tight-lipped bait stealers!

The engine wound back to idle signalling Dave’s duty at the anchor. As the boat went silent, Steve ran through the scenario with me. “Let it get to the bottom, draw in the slack line, feel for the tap, tap on the line, don’t strike too early but strike before it’s too late… you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Right,” I thought. I’m sure I felt that “you can’t be serious” expression colour my face. Oh well, that’s probably more information than most people get going into a new form of fishing for the first time.

I looked to the bait board… decisions, decisions! True to his word, Dave baited up with green prawns. Steve, however, baited up with squid. What a dilemma. I put a piece of prawn on one hook and some squid on the other. I’ll let the fish choose.

I cast my whiting rig out, ignored anything that felt like a “tap” as my sinker found its rest on the bottom, wound in my slack line (which is always ample due to my still-too-high casting trajectory, boosted on this occasion by gusts that ballooned the belly of the line even further) and waited…

‘Tap… tap…’ I was on alert, like a cat that’s seen the slightest flicker of an inquisitive mouse… ‘tap’… POUNCE!

“Yes!” I called. My light rod loaded up, the tip dancing erratically for a few moments as I wound. “Looks good…” came a call from behind me.As my capture came into view, the truth was announced… “Double-header!” smiled Dave.

How exciting! My first ever King George whiting came as a party of two.

Now, I’m not accustomed to fishing for species that don’t require a landing net. I don’t mean that to be a brag… it’s just like that up north, and this is actually a story about how my fishing parochialism jumped up to bite me. Being used to having someone on hand with a net to (hopefully) land my fish, my two glorious whiting flipped and danced in the scary air that sits halfway between waters surface and boat deck. Their jigging recital seemed to last an eternity… their audience consisting of me, waiting for someone to assist, and a deck full of blokes staring, mouths agape. Steve was the only one capable of talking through his disbelief… “Swing them into the boat, honey!”

Too late! First one lively whiting pirouetted to freedom, then the other—a perfect execution of synchronised escape. As my eyebrows met in consternation and my bottom lip fell to the gunwale, the boys chose between laughter and exclamations of “What are you doing?!”.

OK… so I now know that it is one smooth action. As the whiting slides through the watery surface, just swing the rod up and in, otherwise they WILL get off. Right. Gotcha!

Back in goes my line, sinker settling on the bottom. I wound in the belly and waited… tap… tap… … tapSTRIKE!

On again… this is FUN! This time, my solo King George came up and into that boat like it had spent its lifetime training for that moment. One smooth action. Much better!

… Next skill required is how to get this flicking, slippery little sucker off the hook. I nearly had to tuck it under my arm! In hindsight, I wish I had. I successfully removed the hook from the whiting’s mouth and held it up proudly to Steve for a commemorative photo.

“You want to be careful how you hold them, Jo”, came Dave’s dry call. “They’re slippery!”

With that, the first ever King George whiting I’d landed squirmed, flicked and leaped across the boat, passed Steve’s ear and back into the water!

(sigh.)

The boys expected that the school would flee once my escapee re-joined. A sense of guilt weighed upon me for a short while, but I baited my hooks and threw them back down in a defiant gesture… they simply have to stay or I’ll never live it down!

Well, stay they did. We spent another half an hour or so before heading in with an ample feed, Dave hauling in the majority, but I still managed to land my fair share.

For the record, I ended up using squid as my bait. The green prawns were certainly working, but I think the squid worked better with my beginner status. The prawns possibly attracted more fish, but I was not experienced enough to detect the early nibbles from the whiting and they always managed to steal the softer meat before I even knew they were around. The tougher squid meat made the fish work harder, making them easier to feel. I was also advised to make sure that my baits were cut into thin strips, always leaving a juicy and enticing tail free of the hook to tempt the fish.

When it came to chasing the King George whiting “for real” in Kangaroo Island, we didn’t find very many. We set out to deep water where the truly big fellas are known to hold, but inclement weather worked against us. We did find a nice patch in closer to the rocks and I managed to keep my hooked quarry this time, the largest of which was a tidy 46cm specimen.

The greatest challenge in the Kangaroo Island session was staying in contact with the bait when sitting in seas to three metres! I took to winding the slack line in until my rod tip was almost touching the water at the top of a wave and then lifting the rod tip as we dropped into a dip to retain tension, trying all the while not to yank at the bait. This way, I was able to still feel when a fish was on the hook as there wasn’t any billowing line.

Once again, we managed a tasty meal, despite the conditions. And when I say tasty, I’m not exaggerating. Our stomachs were blessed with a variety of whiting recipes throughout the trip, including lightly dusted and shallow fried, battered and even mornay! King George whiting certainly lived up to its reputation for me. Pound for pound, they put up an awesome fight and they reward superbly on the table.