Yesterday was a public holiday in the south of Tasmania. It is a time when family and friends get together, and, for me, it was a time to join a mate and some of his friends on a saltwater fishing charter out of Eaglehawk Neck, the iconic home of Tasmania’s tuna fishing.

Seven blokes on a private charter, early start, loaded with provisions to get us through the day, concerns about forecasts of strong winds and rain, but all with a determination to make the most of it. A boat providing all the gear and the local knowledge rounded off the package.

Eight hours on the water produced five small bluefin tuna and three small albacore. We all went home in good spirits, loaded with a great sashimi supply.

But while it was an enjoyable day, I can’t help taking a bit of time to reflect on a comparison with the services that a fishing guide like myself offers (and delivers). I know some will say it’s an unfair metric to apply, but during a day that started at 5.15 in the morning and finished at 5.15 in the afternoon, I think I was “fishing” for approximately 3 minutes. I sat briefly in a chair with a rod in my hand to land a bluefin tuna that took a lure maybe 30 metres behind the boat - a fight of maybe 45 seconds in total. Then I spent a couple of minutes with a rod in my hand “bottom bouncing” before thinking it was kinder to let someone else have one of the three available rods to catch a gurnard or two, knowing I had all sorts of fishing opportunities in the coming weeks.

In comparison I think about my last client’s day on a Tasmanian Central Highlands lake, fishing for trout. We were probably on the water for about the same amount of time, but where my saltwater experience gave me three minutes of active fishing, my client’s day effectively saw him fish non-stop for six and a half hours. This particular client was so engaged and determined that he cast all day, refusing to stop for lunch, pausing only briefly to accept an occasional cup of coffee and a biscuit. He caught a couple of beautiful brown trout, both of which were returned to be caught again by another lucky angler. He had a fish break him off and had takes that excited him so much that the fish were unable to hold onto flies ripped from their grasp by adrenaline-fuelled strikes.

Throughout the day we talked - about fishing mainly, but also about anything that came up. We experimented with dozens of flies, he experimented with different rods and overall we made a day punctuated by strong winds and driving rain a great success.

So my comparison exercise leaves me quite smug. Sure, I enjoyed a day on a boat that was chasing tuna, but give me a day on a lake chasing rising trout any day. My client was thrilled with his experience - it was a day that has triggered his resolve to take up fly fishing again after having been away from it for so many years. It reminded him that fly fishing takes over your concentration, and eliminates the noise of your life for a while. It offers an “escape” that is not only about catching fish, but that also takes your focus away from your daily responsibilities and concerns. And this day offered us both companionship with someone with a shared passion for fly fishing.

I know I didn’t finish yesterday’s feeling that way about chasing tuna. There was very little “fishing” and a lot of time for my head to wrestle with thoughts of the challenges of my own Covid-disrupted business and work that has to be done on our home. There was some frustration with using game fishing gear that could possibly stop a tuna of 100kg to land a tuna of 5kg and “bottom bouncing” gear that was similarly poorly matched to the fish on offer. I finished the day with no knowledge acquired from our capable skipper.

Of course, this is not an exercise aimed at discouraging saltwater fishing charters. I have deliberately not mentioned the name of the charter operator as they are delivering a service for which there is a demand, and I respect them for that. But, in the end I know that, at best, I might do it again in 12 month’s time if I’m invited, but I won’t be disappointed if I’m not. Critically, it has reminded me where my passion lies, but also what I hope others go looking for (or, more importantly, find) when they commit to a “guided” fishing experience. I know that where my client left me with plans to return and to encourage friends to join him next time, that’s not what I’ll be doing with my tuna fishing experience.