Ain't no river wide enough

WITH the eyes of a hawk, from the boat he is able to distinguish a single green rope among the thick bank of smart weed on the edge of the river– something I am unable to see even when we are pulled up mere metres from the target.

"I’ve had plenty of practice," he jokes.

Today I am thrown into life as a fisheries officer. With Gary Muhling as my coach, I am encouraged to use a flimsy branch to steady myself as I lean out of our boat to grasp a submerged trap.

From the depths beneath, a relatively new, untagged crayfish pot, and its catch, are hauled up.

"All people have to do is write their names on the float or on the trap to avoid it being seized," Gary explains.

"But with only four traps allowed for each person, some people think in order to get around that, they can just put in unmarked traps."

Gary helps me haul in the netted snare for confiscation.

"If you do this, don’t be surprised if your traps aren’t where you left them," he says with a grimace.

The Thomson River near Longreach is a saviour for many during the long, hot summer months, providing cool water to dip into, calm water to sail upon and dark reaches from which keen anglers hope to bag a monster.

But let’s spare a thought for those charged with protecting this special waterhole, those who, even on weekends, use their ability, nous and passion to protect the river’s inhabitants’ survival.
For this Department of Primary Industries and Fisheries district officer, his job has seen him rise to embrace many responsibilities, yet also sink with disappointment.

"I have been in this job for ten years, in Longreach for six, promoting the rules and regulations to do with fishing and being on the water.

"People know when they are doing the wrong thing," Gary asserts.

While recalling a recent investigation which seized 30 illegal fishing nets out of a regional waterhole, disappointment filters Gary’s voice.

"It is just incredible, it is so illegal and these people face massive fines.
"I am happy to work with people and give them the benefit of the doubt, but after two or three warnings, sorry, you are going to get fined."

A big part of Gary’s job is acting under the Fisheries Act to seize illegal traps and nets, as well as handing out fines.

"The job is really difficult; in order to fine someone you have to basically catch them red-handed.
"And they are getting really clever about disguising their nets."

Gary explained that ordinarily a dead-give away for illegal nets would be a discarded inflatable tube and a few slack ropes on the side of the riverbank.

"What you find is that people tie the net under the water, using a bit of rope attached to a root or something on the river bank.
"Then using the tube, paddle out to the other side of the river and drop the net, which is usually attached to a brick or a weight."

On patrol last week, Gary sighted what he refers to as "a point of interest" along the northern part of the river.

Gary quickly pulled over to an innocent-looking tube on the bank and a limp piece of string tied off to a nearby tree.

"I will remember this spot now, take note of whether the tyre moves or the line disappears.
"It will be something to keep an eye on."

But despite it’s slings and arrows, Gary reminds himself that the river is ultimately his workplace.

And how many people can claim they work in an outdoor office?

"We spend plenty of nights away from home and work on the weekend, but we get to see and do some amazing things," Gary enthuses.