5.59am, Thursday morning, I stood on the nature strip outside my house on Malvern Rd, in Melbourne's inner east, watching the peak hour traffic hurry by. Bless em I thought to myself, someone has to keep this economy moving.

I wasn't going to work today, I was going fishing. If only they new. Best they remain oblivious to the fun I was going to have as they slave over their desks. I make a point of checking my fishing rods and gear as I catch the eye of a passing motorist. He noticed. He looked shattered. I give him a little smile just to rub it in....

Mitch was late. Mitch is never late, it was 6.01am now by my watch. Maybe he is having car trouble. Mitch never has car trouble. He's a Mitchell. Mitchell's can fix anything. Maybe the Mc Donalds coffee had delayed him? Maybe my watch is wrong? 6:02am and Mitch arrives. He has coffee. All is forgiven.

We put my gear into the car, well we jam it into any area that he's left available considering he has squeezed in his mountain bike and 8 slabs of beer and several boxes of wine. We head off.

He makes me drive. A typical Mitchell tactic. He suggests he is tired. I know he is keen to do the last leg after Bairnsdale because he knows the roads better than me. We drink coffee. We start to plan.

The forecast is good, the Gipsy Point fishing competition starts tomorrow and we are in the box seat to clean up. No one else will arrive as early as us. No one else will be as well prepared. No one has purchased as much equipment as us. We will catch them off guard, the fish don't stand a chance.

We consider the bag limit, the weight limit. How many fish will be enough? Only 6 hours to go. Mitch is not bored with me yet.. give him time. I've left my wife and kids behind for the weekend. There are moments of guilt, but they pass and we once again focus on our strategy of maximising our time away from work and responsibilities. This I can advise readers was accomplished. Between the two of us, we lived on 6 hours sleep per night, we fished, drank, ran, biked, surfed, boated and socialised for four days straight. I like to keep busy and that is exactly what we did.

I'll spare you the details of our activities over the three days and take you forward in time to Saturday night.

The Gipsy Point fishing competition and end of comp dinner is hosted by the Gipsy Point Lodge. It is a local competition for rate payers and one guest. I am a guest. Mitch's parent's own the lodge and they do an exceptional job each year bringing the event together and finishing it with a sit down dinner for around 80 people. An amazing effort that is greatly appreciated by all involved.

Major prizes are awarded for largest Bream, largest Flathead and mixed bag. All prizes are awarded on weight (though this was argued by several people on Saturday night following the consumption of much red wine). Other prizes be they consolation or novelty are offered through-out the night to keep things interesting.

Mitch (and I) won earliest consistent rises for our 4am starts; a fine hand knitted fishing jumper.

I won best prepared, worst performed and am now the proud owner of a life jacket that you can wear as a belt or be it fashion accessory... This is apparently suitable for small craft and is great for fishing in shallow water (like the Genoa River) with an average depth of 60cm. I'm not sure how suitable it would be should you actually fall from the boat and be rendered unconscious... at least you would look nice in your new belt.

The prize was not won easily. A battle ensued when I was challenged for my story of most pathetic fishing incident. I don't know how the challenger expected to beat my efforts to back over my keeper bag containing two Tailor with the prop of the boat. Though this was quite stupid and messy, I did in-fact create a new method for burlying the water at speed, so I guess there was an upside.

It took me half an hour to cut the prop free and not a moment later I was passed by local fishing celeb and personal hero of mine, Kaj Bush (Bushy). I pretended nothing was wrong and acknowledged him with a friendly nod. I suspect he might have got a little surprised when he motored over the mash of Tailor splattered across the sandbanks of the river, not 100 metres from our casual greeting... a fish massacre scene more likely to be found in shark or croc infested waters of Australia's North than Gippsland...

My challenger for most useless fisherman in Gippsland received the support of the crowd with his story of no bites and his unsuccessful christening of his new rod and reel. I soon stomped on my rival with tales of my fish mashing, coupled with no bites, a broken rod, purchase of $30 of live bait (which the fish showed no interest in unless they were placed on Mitch's hook, by me), world's most expensive and useless line, early rises and general bad luck. I won the crowd back over with their sympathy vote and the jacket is now mine.

I guess there is such a thing as karma. Maybe I shouldn't have teased that poor sod on his way to work on Thursday morning.

No matter how average my performance, the weather, the setting, the company, and the event are by far one of the finest times anyone could experience.

Thanks again to all involved.

Cheers,

JB