shaun1800

I couldn't stay home with the forecast conditions today looking great. I decided to have a go at Harry's. Haven't been there in over a decade. It was packed, so I sounded around and eventually found some bait showing on the sounder. Taking @Allnighter's recent tips I had a bait jig rigged and ready, but got no joy unfortunately.
So I anchored up and deployed a couple of lines while I sat there and observed the other boats not showing any action. The conditions for boating were superb.

 
After no love for an hour or more (not even a touch) I pulled the anchor and decided to go have a look at some marks I made at Mud last week and also have a sound around looking for structure in deeper water. Didn't find any so went to mark 61. Put out a couple of lines again - one with a small pilly and the other with a squid.
Squid went off and had a bit of weight to it and peeled a bit of loose drag. Hopes were dashed when I saw this -

Then the pilly went off and in came this little fella -

Caught a few of his siblings before I started to get snipped off. I suspect little mackerel from what the sounder was showing. A couple more snips and I decided to quit that spot with no entry into the comp and have another look around before heading home. Found a great piece of structure in some deeper water that is now mark 79 that I'll be back to next time I go to Mud. Back at the ramp at 1.30pm where I once again enjoyed the thrill of the electric winch.,
For now I'm just watching the weather for Thursday when @Leosonfire and I are going to head up to Curtain in an attempt to get demolished by Kingfish. 😂

I've started this thread to organise the get together session this Friday.
Weather is looking good for the morning, but a bit blowy in the arvo.
First question is where will we go ?
Second question who is coming along ? The number might help determine where as well.
Put your suggestions and preferences and anything you'd like to add below and we'll stir it all up to settle on a plan.

The durries, of course!
Hey shaun1800
That is what I'd call an exploratory trip. That's what you call a trip where you catch squat all and learn to do something... NEVER AGAIN! 😉 
Bit of a pity about your gear but.
Cheers Hamish

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

I'm close to 100 so maybe that's part of the problem, I've stacked on a bit too much iso weight 😉 Look if the mud is anything like it is where I went I might play it safe and give it a miss. 
Lol. You know my dad did a similar thing, except he jumped off into some reef and scatched the **** out of his legs. Maybe fishing blunders are a genetic condition? 

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

Seem to recall a similar incident with the same miscreant when approaching a yabbie bank. Phone, keys, wallet and smokes in the pockets. Guess which item he was most worried about?  

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

I recall arriving back at POB ramp one freezing July night. High tide, pre-pontoon days. I decided to nose in gently at the ramp and my faithful decky Ellicat should be able to step off the front into knee deep at most water, catch the boat and all good. 
“Just wait until I say ok mate”
”yep, no worries”
about 4-5m from when I would have said go - Ellicat disappears and I hear a splash and a squeal. D1ck head jumped off into chest deep water.  With a bag of tobacco in his top pocket.
 
Car said it was 7 degrees. Heater got a work out on the way home.

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

Oh bloody hell I was in completely the wrong spot! That might go some ways toward explaining this whole messy situation. Thanks for that, I'll definetly give that spot a go. 
 
Ha! My hands were that caked in mud I wasn't game to even try. I'd probably have dopped my phone and just added to my misery anyway. 
Good to know even seasoned experts like your good self make mistakes ocassionaly too. Makes me feel a tad better 😉 
 
 

Oh bloody hell I was in completely the wrong spot! That might go some ways toward explaining this whole messy situation. Thanks for that, I'll definetly give that spot a go. 
 
Ha! My hands were that caked in mud I wasn't game to even try. I'd probably have dopped my phone and just added to my misery anyway. 
Good to know even seasoned experts like your good self make mistakes ocassionaly too. Makes me feel a tad better 😉 
 
 

Do this. Take worms or a yabby pump. 
Catch fish. 

Hahaha. Well done. I can't believe you didn't get a photo of your catch !
Not so long ago I jumped in at Jacob's Well and went up to just over my knees. Fortunately I didn't have far to walk.
Did you walk in your original holes on the way back or make new ones ? 😂

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

Haha oh man I'm glad he wasn't there to witness this embarassment. Now I look at that photo of the mud flat again it seems a lot bigger. What was I thinking? Ah well, you live and learn. 

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

Haha oh man I'm glad he wasn't there to witness this embarassment. Now I look at that photo of the mud flat again it seems a lot bigger. What was I thinking? Ah well, you live and learn. 

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

This is my first fishing report here. I wish it could be a tale of glory. But sadly it’s not that kind of story. This is a messy tale of misadventure. A cautionary tale that may make you feel a little better about your own fishing failures. 
So, after reading some promising forum stories about fishing the mud flats at Lota creek at low tide for whiting and flatties, I thought I’d give it a crack. 
“You might get a bit muddy” they said. Bahhh, a little mud never hurt anyone, I thought to myself. How foolish I was. 
I got to Lota creek and gazed out over the patch of mud, just a short stroll across the flats and I’d be in the perfect spot. So with hope in my heart and the dream of some nice whiting fillets in my stomach I set off. Things started badly, within 10 metres I was in ankle deep and had lost both shoes (thankfully an old pair). I’m not going to let some lost shoes stop me getting to the promised land I thought. I’ll be alright. 
I wasn’t alright… By half way mark I was up to my knees and starting to struggle. Suddenly that small patch of mud was looking more like several football fields. I can’t go back now I thought, so I lurched forward, each step requiring herculean effort to wrench my foot out of the mud, only for it to squelch down into another deep hole, making a hissing noise that sounded disturbingly like a disgruntled demon being exorcised. 
After taking several mini breaks I was finally close enough to the water to throw in a line. There was just one problem….I was completely and utterly knackered. 
So I collapsed onto my tackle bag, and sat there hyperventilating, contemplating all my poor life choices, slowly sinking and pondering better times. Like when I was sitting comfortably on @ellicat's boat, sipping a coffee and not caked from head to toe in mud that smelt of cow ****. 
After about 15 minutes I mustered the strength to have a cast. I managed to catch a 3 inch whiting. “Well ****, that makes it all worth it”. I thought to myself gloomily. After a short while the tide started to come in, and I was done, so I began the long, long walk back. 
Upon reaching the ramp I kind of understood how captain cook must have felt when he stepped foot on our shores for the first time. Relief is an understatement. I gave myself a bath under a park tap. A few people slowed down as they drove by to view the swamp monster freak show. 
So… all in all, not a very successful fishing adventure. In fact, a pretty ****ing **** one. On the plus side, I got a hell of leg workout and now have an excuse to take several long showers. I'll be keeping my feet planted firmly on land from now on.

That fish is a Lancer.
Some great shots there, postcard worthy.
Myself and @shaun1800 had a session near Green today and like you said the conditions were fantastic, but a lot of undersize stuff. When the wind sprung up around 1pm the conditions changed quickly so we headed in.
What side of Mud did you try ?