Fishing, you would think, would have been very popular at Butlers Gorge. However, the men worked a six-day 48 hour week. Large lorries with canvas covers on the back and containing two long planked seats on each side, transported the men to the Dam-site and back down to the village. There was always a scramble to climb on. If they missed them, they would have to walk the three miles down a rough gravel road. Very few had their own transport and if they did, the cars were garaged in rented sheds in the village, sheltered from the harsh weather. The cook-house and the wet canteen only opened for about an hour each. After work, there was only time for a shower, a drink and a feed. Single men had to chop wood for their individual huts and the married men would have to prepare enough fire-wood, kindling and stove-wood for that evening and the next day. There was never enough day-light time for fishing, except on Sundays and it was usually only the married men who went down to the river then. It was left to the boy-kids to go in the early evening. For bait, we went to the Commission piggery looking for worms. We searched for frogs and kept them in glass Marmite jars. We made holes in the tin screw-on lids with nails and added a stone, some green grass and a little water. Fat brown frogs were the most favoured. The fish seemed to like them better than the scrawny green ones and they were easier for us to catch.

After dinner, dad would arm me with a carbide lamp, rod and reel and wax vestas matches. Me and my two mates would head off weighted down with the lantern, fishing gear, jar of frogs. We were clothed in Army Disposal clobber of heavy great-coats, balaclavas, scarves and woollen mittens. We crossed the bridge over the canal and clambered down to the river in the dark. Because we had often been swimming in the river, we knew where the best deep holes were. The trick with the frogs was to put the hook into the lower jaw so that they could still swim. Trout run with food between their lips before they swallow, so it was important to know just when to strike with the rod. All this was done in the dark with only the aid of the carbide lamp, hissing and gurgling away. We stared into the dark water, searching to see that the frog was not sitting on an exposed rock or a floating stick. We tried many times to tie the hook on the slimy back of the frogs with cotton, but doing this in the near darkness was impossible. Worms were easier. Just put two or three on the hook and lie back and wait. Sometimes men would tie a sugar bag containing a dead wallaby to an overhanging branch of a gumtree by the river. After a few days it would become fly-blown and covered in maggots. Juicy, slimy, yellow maggots dropped off the bag and attracted the trout. We tried maggots as bait, but the fish seemed to have had enough.