Deep Blue — One boat. Two rookies (well, one). And the vast, unpredictable beauty of the open sea

I was standing on the jetty, holding onto our boat while my husband manoeuvres the trailer down the ramp, and I think to myself, “I think I might spew.” His pride and joy is a Surtees 700 Gamefisher tricked up with all the fruit, 325L of fuel in her belly and another 150L on the transom. My body is still wobbling from being days at sea, the deep blue, open sea.

Two whole, glorious days of only having to consider the needs of my hubby and I, and tasks at hand during our first proper fishing trip together.

It was finally my turn! I’ve listened to my husband plan trip after trip, watched him head off with his mates and return triumphantly, presenting his catch. I love fishing, not all girls do, but for those of you who get it, you really get it.

At 3am, a full hour and a half before the alarm was set to go off, I woke him and whispered, “Should we just go now?” Sensing my excitement and unable to talk me down, he endearingly agreed. We were in the water and heading out of the Gulf of Wyndham by breakfast time. It took another four hours of driving through international waters to get to our fishing spot, which Ben had dubbed from a previous trip: Deep Blue.

The swell didn’t seem too bad, apparently we’d timed it well, but I noticed blistering on my hands from white knuckling the panic bar. As the land disappeared, I became acutely aware of the vastness and solitude of the open sea. We were 140km from the Wyndham boat ramp out in the open ocean. 

On the jetty boarding the deep blue boat

Two rookie sailors handling sails aboard Deep Blue

We didn’t waste any time on arrival, deciding to rig up straight away. This type of fishing was exhilarating, completely different from anything I’d experienced. We dropped squid and bottom-bounced to try and draw out a snapper or two. And two is exactly what I got. We caught and released a few potato cod, and hubby hooked a nice spangled emperor that went straight into the esky with the snapper.

My new favourite way to fish is seeking out “bust-ups” or “bait balls” by keeping an eye on the birds and finding movement on the surface. We threw slices and hardbody lures into the frenzy, and Ben drew out a 96cm Mac Daddy! Bright-coloured lures got nothing, but the silver and dark ones sent them into a full-blown feeding fiesta.

Family fishing adventures

Proudly showing my catch of the day

A serious risk when we go fishing, whether it’s just the two of us or the whole family, is that I ‘outfish’ my husband. If that happens, much time (and energy) is spent restoring the natural order of things. Thankfully, the haul of Mackerel did just that.

Our final resting point for the night seemed to be patrolled by spinning bronze whalers, and it’s where I learned how to tie a Paternoster knot (see my fishing terms explained guide!) thanks to the many times I had to re-rig. On what must’ve been my 956 millionth re-rig, I finally felt that glorious weight on the line, only to have a bronze whaler erupt from the water, spiralling like a torpedo just three metres in front of me. I saw flashes of yellow and silver and let out a scream, a mix of awe and panic that startled my husband. He, of course, had seen it all before.

“There are many advantages to fishing with your wife,” he smirked, “but one you don’t always expect is getting to relive the thrill of open-water fishing through someone experiencing it for the first time. It’s just as magic as your own first time.”

My biggest achievement of the trip? Overcoming the anxiety that gripped me as darkness fell and the fishing slowed. I had to work hard to control my thoughts, mostly of the boat sinking and the fact it was 140km from land. 💡 "Fun fact: If you’re 140 km out and things go pear-shaped, a rescue chopper might still be 90 minutes away, so prep well and know your gear." 

When I finally said it out loud, Ben calmly walked me through every worst-case scenario and why none of them were going to happen. The fear had built quietly, but once I named it, it shrank. Just like that.

As I settled, the stars became a magnificent distraction, and the intimacy of being out on the water wrapped around me, melting all the fear away. 

I loved the sound of the water against the hull, though sleep was limited. The wind had picked up through the night, and by morning, the swell was huge.

Still, I wasn’t afraid anymore. We were heading home, and for that, I was grateful, especially since Ben admitted it was some of the biggest swell he’d been out in!

Despite the long, crashing journey back, I enjoyed it just as much as the ride out.

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