Looking through some old fishing books, a very old black and white photo of a bronze whaler shark caught from the Lorne Pier caught my interest. One of the two people in the photo was Ron Giles. The other wasn’t named.

The article and photograph certainly got me going. I didn't get a wink of sleep that night as I tossed and turned, images of big sharks racing through my mind. I resolved to catch a big shark from a pier and that was that.

It was such a defining moment for me that I wasted no time in visiting the tackle store and investing in a 24 kg game fishing outfit. But where would I fish for a shark?

Geoff Wilson, suggested the Point Lonsdale Pier would be worth trying, even though it had been 30 years since he and Ian Munro first fished for sharks from there.

Mick Kollaris, a close friend of mine for many years, noticed the new tackle, and after the inevitable string of questions wanted in. Just as well too, because fishing for big fish is a team effort.

A howling westerly gusting to more than 30 knots greeted us as we arrived at the Point Lonsdale Pier around 9.00 pm. It was low slack water and, hopefully, the combination of offshore wind and incoming tide would send our large bait of tuna, rigged on 14/0 hooks and wire cable trace, out to where it would interest a shark.No problem there: Our bait was soon hundreds of metres out from the pier. But that combination of wind and tide had angered to the sea. Waves now crashed in, first over the sheltering reef on the right hand side of the pier, and then against the pier itself as the reef was covered.

The pier shuddered as the waves repeatedly raked the pylons and wooden decking, submerging the low landing under a blanket of white foam, the same low landing where we had intended to subdue any shark we might hook.The conditions certainly provided a startling experience for us first timers, but it didn’t seem to worry the constant stream of curious folk, sauntering out for a breath of fresh, if somewhat bracing, salty air.

"What are you after mate, a shark or something?” asked one passerby.

"Yes mate”, I answered.

"Good luck fellas! No sharks have been caught here for ages.”

Well, come 2.00 am we both jumped to the growl of the 50W. The crowds had thinned out somewhat so we had the pier more or less to ourselves as the reel snarled off once more, then accelerated to a scream. Yes! This was what we came for.

Mick fitted the gimbal belt on me as line poured from the reel in great long bursts toward Queenscliff. Getting all that line back against the tide took ages, and without a harness, it was hard work. It wasn’t until an hour later that first the trace, and then the distinct shape of a big shark over 3m long, came into view before continuing right under the pier and out the other side.

Somehow, I got a rope fixed to the rod and reel and lowered it over the side while Mick managed to hook onto the line on the opposite side of the pier. This enabled the recovery of the rod and reel, albeit on the opposite side of the pier to the low and very wet landing where we hoped to secure the shark, but the big bronzie was having none of that. Instead it went crazy, making it impossible to hold onto the trace.

When the trace did come within reach again we did something we would later regret – but in the heat of the moment it seemed a good idea.We wrapped wire trace around the end of one of the decking planks and held on as waves continued to rake the pier, tossing the shark back and forth on the taut cable.

Our gaff was too short to reach the shark, the low landing was awash and unreachable from our position, and walking the shark ashore on this side of the pier was impossible. Sooner or later something had to give.

After half an hour of this stalemate, a particularly big swell took the shark under the pier and around one of the pylons with such force that the big game swivel snapped and I copped a thick ear from the trace as it lashed back over the rail catching me across the side of the face.

Bloodied but unbowed, we vowed retribution. Next time would be different.

A 7.7m flying gaff and a steel noose attachment was added to our tackle, so it was with renewed confidence we arrived at the Point Lonsdale Pier once more, in uncannily similar conditions to those we experienced on our first trip.

Once again, the pier trembled as the combination of a strong westerly wind and incoming tide infuriated the se, which surged white and menacing around us. Slack water was at midnight, and by 1.00 am our tuna bait sat some 300m out from the pier.

You could almost smell the bronzie in the air, but time rolled by and we had to wait until shortly after 3.00 am for the 50W to sing what was to become a familiar song. This time I was going to pace myself, because, if our previous encounter was anything to go by, it could be a long tough battle. I banged the lever up to full strike and held on as something like 400m of line disappeared from the reel before the shark altered direction.

First the shark headed straight out into The Rip, but now it was swimming in a big arc toward the lights of Queenscliff. Once again it took an hour before the trace, and then the shape of another big bronzie materialized in the beam of Mick’s spotlight. This time though, the long-handled flying gaff was at hand and Mick made no mistake.

The shark was soon manoeuvred onto the landing, assisted by the heaving swell and perhaps our good timing. It was a time for jubilation. Any thoughts of the hard work that lay ahead of us were suspended for the time being as we savoured our sense of accomplishment.

I fished with Mick on most occasions, but there were times I met the challenge of the bronzie alone. One night, when fishing alone from the pier, I brought in a good size bronzie, and was about to lead it around to the low landing, when I felt it bite onto a pylon, I could feel the crunch if its jaws on the mussels right through the pier. Shining the spotlight over the side, I could see it there hanging on for grim death! Once again the long handled flying gaff saved the day and another big bronzie was added to my growing tally.

Another night Mick hooked a big shark that all but emptied his reel. That run only stopped when the hooks pulled with only a few metres of line covering the hub of his 50W.