I found this great article by Greg Vinall and while I have only posted the first part to whet your appetite - if you like where it is going visit his complete article here (it really is fantastic)
The day had been slow. For the fifth or sixth time I steered the canoe close to a rocky dropoff on the Hopkins Estuary and enjoyed the gentle drift afforded by a light breeze that was running parallel to the shore. It wasn't the best day for fishing, in fact I hadn't raised any piscatorial interest at all. It was bright and warm with plenty of boating traffic to create a disturbance in what is essentially a fairly small waterway. Perhaps if I'd been prepared to soak baits quietly in a deeper hole or under the shade of some overhanging vegetation I might have done better, but that would have been giving in. Instead I persisted in flicking small crankbaits at any rocky structure I could find along the steep foreshore.
I started trying to convince myself that I was happy just to be out here enjoying nature, the warm sun on my back and the song of a whistling kite overhead. Without really thinking about it I made yet another lure change, this time from a pink and yellow pattern with a black spot amidships to a small black deep diver with just a hint of silver scales. I deftly flicked the little lure into a small pocket behind a large rock, gave it a second or two to sink, then cranked over the little Chronarch baitcaster, gave the lure a couple of gentle twitches and idly began my retrieve. Whack! Two turns of the handle was all I managed before the lure was nailed by a stud black bream that proceeded to go berserk in only two feet of water.
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