Bob Longmore, probably better known as Bruce Longmore to his contempories in the 'Shields of the 1950's and 60's, writes from Nannup in the South West of Western Australia.

In moments of quiet reverie and as I get older, my mind often goes back to Trow Rocks where I seemed to spend many fishing trips as a schoolboy during the 1950's. My Mam could never understand why it didn't seem to rain when I was out there - it certainly didn't send me home too early! I was also a junior member of the South Shields Sea Angling Club at the time and it would be true to say that sea fishing ruled my life then. As an aside, I can remember old Jack Duke, one of the Club stalwarts in those days, who always had a word of friendly advice and support for us young fishing tyros. He was always there, come rain or shine. Now despite the attractions of 'the Pier', Trow Rocks at the south side of the South Beach was a convenient walk from our house in Highfield Drive, near the Fountain Inn on Highfield Road. I was in a group of lads all dead keen on fishing and it would be true to say we knew that part of the coast down to Marsden Bay like the proverbial back of our communal hand. We went crabbing on the neap tides, out there on the rock outliers and even cast a line into the kelp jungles hoping for one of those brightly coloured rock cod that lived there - but that's another story. We were skilled at catching peeler crabs, digging ragworms and lugworm, and collecting and shucking mussels. We maintained stocks of this bait in shoeboxes with damp seaweed for the crabs, rolled up newspaper for the worms and jars for the salted mussels. I also relied on strips of fresh herring but only if I had been able to get to one of the town fish shops. My fresh herring became less and less fresh over the days, and Mam would often complain with good reason about the ripe aroma of my fishing clothes and tackle bag! I was dependent upon pocket money and earnings from newspaper and grocery delivery rounds to provide my somewhat limited fishing tackle budget. In my younger days I depended on 'salmon cord' cotton line, wound figure-of-eight fashion on a stick, a bamboo stick and peg bell - to detect bites when not holding the line, and traces and snoods of nylon. I generally bought supplies of line, nylon and hooks at Rippons, at the bottom of Fowler Street. The construction of the handline used a 2 to 4 ounce lead attached to the end of 2 to 3 feet of nylon cast to which 1,2 or even 3 snoods or hook links were attached. Where the cotton line attached to the loop of the nylon cast we tied a wooden peg with a clove hitch to help the casting throw. To cast we laid out an ambitious length of line in great loose coils on a suitable surface of rock, whirled the lead around while holding the peg between two fingers and at the right moment heaved the line out. The cast line was then held between thumb and forefinger or later when we got a bit tired we tied it to a bamboo cane stuck in some crack in the rocks and attached our peg bell to the top. The walk down to Trows cut down through farmers' fields - full of 'snadgies' (turnips/swedes) in season - always good for a snack at the Rocks! Then across the Marsden Rattler railway line, down through the quarry - lots of good newt ponds there - and so to Trow Rocks. My favourite fishing position was on Middle Rock, the 'Middla' as we knew it, and this could only be reached on high tide by leaping across that surging chasm of rising tide! Let me tell you it could be quite a frightening experience as a youngster, a daunting challenge, but we were keen! "Fuggy on the middla" was the cry and the bravest would win the best fishing place to get a good cast out to the NE of the rock. What did we catch? Well I remember lots of flounders and the occasional plaice, young 'coalies' and in the height of summer some very good sized gurnards. Now the gurnards were lovely to eat but the skin could be taken off by carefully cutting along the dorsal fin on each side and stripping it down across the vent to give a rough triangle of skin, graded through pinkish brown to silver, and this could be dried by wrapping it on a bottle. Later the dried skin was cut into small thin spearhead shapes and when bound to a bare silver hook provided a very effective mackerel and coalfish fly to be used out on the Pier. In those days the marine environment at Trow Rocks was rich and a haunt for many young coalfish - we called them by the misnomer of 'sprats' and they served as the main quarry for many of use in our youngest days - I started fishing there at the age of 7. I still remember that first shop-bought green cord line on its rectangular holder with a single hook and bullet lead. It hooked me for life! I may also add that on occasion I had painful pocket knife and pliers surgery carried out there on the rocks by another fisherman when the odd miscast of the handline occurred, generally on very windy days, and the hook buried itself in my hand! Later I graduated to rod and line, when my first rods were constructed out of army surplus tank aerials. They possessed horrible curve characteristics, were prone to rust and often snapped at the most unfortunate time. I recall that the aerials cost something like 10 shillings each, again a small fortune then. Remember that glass fibre hadn't really entered the popular fishing stream then and one's choice was limited to whole bamboo cane, carefully manicured greenheart or lancewood or occasionally imported Japanese split cane rods brought in by merchant seamen. We shaped greenheart to taper by scraping with broken glass shards, much better than planes or sandpaper and became quite skilful at whipping on rings and constructing cord handles, skills which I still use today in restoring old cane rods I buy in local auctions. I recall that my first spinning reel was a 'Le Omnia Super' which lasted many years while pressed into service in my light sea fishing. What happened to that old reel I don't know, it certainly was quite worn out, grooved on the pickup, and corroded on the body, but recently I was able to acquire a similar model here in Australia on e-Bay - again only to feed my memories. Do forgive my long windedness but those fishing days at the 'Middla' were a significant part of my growing up. They were carefree and lacked the present day hazards and concerns affecting unsupervised children out in the streets and playgrounds. My Mam and Dad trusted me to take care of myself and believe me I ventured far and wide in my search for good fishing on the coast. I even saw tragedy on one occasion when my mate Chris Heron and I apparently must have been the last people to see this lone swimmer out past Trow Rocks one summer's day. I don't know whether they ever retrieved the body but Chris and I got our photos in the paper that day - crabbing! Incidentally if anyone reading this has one of those old large wooden Scarborough or oil-bath Nottingham reels used in those days I'd be very interested to hear from you if you want to sell it. Thanks for reading my piece of nostalgia; "happy days" as Mam would say.

Bob Longmore.

E-mail: longmore@westnet.com.au