The next morning, I was inclined to take part in some kind of ritual to change our fishing fortune. So I opted to spread my toast with Vegemite — kind of a rally cap of sorts. Wow! It’s awful — don’t eat it — ever! As offensive as it was to my American palate, it did not change my luck. We had traveled halfway around the world, fished three full days and had nothing to show for it. However, Chris and I both were perfectly happy with where we were and the people we’d met. Cooper shared in our misery — he wanted us to get into fish as much as we did. Cooper motored us to a spot where he said we’d have a good shot while the tide was falling, but it was going to be a very small window. The Northern Territory of Australia has extreme tidal movement, and unless you know what you are doing, you can get caught with your pants down. We anchored, and when the tide began to drop, almost like clockwork baitfish began to move, and we started hearing the haunting inhalation pops that are unmistakably barramundi. We both knew this was it. Chris was casting off the stern and I alternated casting with her, from the bow. There was so much bait around, and there was that feeling of life in the water. I could almost feel Cooper’s worry leave him when Chris yelled, “Fish on!” She pulled in a small barramundi — finally! As Cooper and Chris removed the hooks, shot photos, tagged and prepared to release the small fish, I fished on. I changed flies two or three times before getting bit. I was so hungry to have a barramundi in hand I strip-set as though my life depended on it when I felt the tug. When the fish came boatside, I could see it was not a barramundi. It was something I’d never seen before. “Um — what is this?” Cooper replied, “Bluenose salmon.” “Is that a good thing?” I asked. Cooper smiled and said, “Sure, mate.” Just as I released my first Australian catch, the sky completely opened up and we were soaked in an instant. It was the kind of rain where you practically lose visibility. Knowing that we had a very small window before the tide kicked us out of our one-fish honey hole, we stayed on the hook and continued casting. Unfortunately, our flurry of what was our hottest action thus far was cut short by the tide, and Cooper moved us along.