Outrage in the Outback!

Beasts among Barramundi make Australia’s Northern Territory a Heart-Pounding Adventure.

There is nothing like the adrenaline rush from a huge crocodile charging right for your hooked barramundi.

Your senses peak as the guide warns you to quickly move to the middle of the high-sided boat while instructing you to hit free-spool on your bait-casting rig – all of this while a 16-footer is barreling toward your frolicking fish just 10-feet from the net.“Let your barra run,” guide Paul Massey screamed as he moved toward the boat’s center and began banging the long handle of the net against the gunwale to stop the croc’s approach. His efforts did little to deter the estimated 1,600-pound saltwater reptile from gliding just feet from the edge of our boat.

The croc just hovered there like a big immovable monster and smiled at us with its exposed craggy dentures. In the meantime, my fish had moved about 20-feet away before stopping. It seemed to just suspend in the current, waiting for the outcome of this confrontation. Our “stare-down” on the surface was not working either. The menacing croc didn’t want to move away. Paul, by now seeing this as a mundane routine, continued to bang his boat from a safe vantage point. He then took out his knife and quickly sliced a 12-pound barra that he had in his cooler and heaved the juicy carcass about 20-feet beyond our prehistoric guest. The determined croc didn’t fall for the trick.

Paul then started his outboard motor and revved it up several times as the monstrous crocodile hovered there beside us without budging an inch. “We’re going to have to up-anchor and move,” he suggested. “Then we’ll try to land your fish downstream.”

The plan was sound, but as a result of a quickly falling tide on the Mary River our anchor was stuck in the mud on a bar some 30-feet away. Since either of us wasn’t about to get out of the boat, we pulled on it with all of our might before putting the engine in reverse and finally yanking it free of the muck. By the time we got the anchor aboard, we were surrounded by four crocs. My guide cautiously maneuvered the boat between them as they separated – all the while I tried to keep control of my terrified fish. Paul motored away from the small feeder creek entrance where we “parked” so I could quickly reel in my rested 13-pound fish.

All of a sudden, the barramundi sprung to life and began thrashing wildly at boat-side as three of the crocs headed toward us again. I pressured the barra into Paul’s waiting net. “I am going to keep this one,” he said before shouting that we had to move immediately.

He put the boat on a plane and ran about a quarter of a mile before stopping and attending to the netted fish lying on the deck.