Journal of Coastal Research, Special Issue No. 101, 2020

Stories of Risk from Rock Fishers on Australia’s Hazardous Rocky Coasts

Peter Kamstra*, Brian Cook, and David M. Kennedy

School of Geography, The University of Melbourne, Parkville, VIC, Australia

INTRODUCTION from step-like rocky coast environments, termed shore platforms, is a popular activity for over 1 million Australians (Figure 1; Ryan, et al., 2018). Rock fishing is driven by the pursuit of deep-water fish and requires traversing slippery environments that are often at sea level and inundated by waves. Navigating these hazardous environments during shifting coastal conditions is, in part, why rock fishing is regularly considered to be Australia’s most dangerous sport (Bradstreet et al., 2012). The risk of drowning while rock fishing often emerges from a range of interrelated oceanic processes interacting with varying water depths in relation to platform orientation (McInnes et al., 2016) and where fishers stand. This series of interrelated coastal conditions changes constantly and learning how to anticipate and react to emergent wave hazards takes years of firsthand experience to develop (Kamstra et al., 2018).

Figure 1. Rock fishers in Little Bay, New South Wales, Australia, offshore on the seaward edge of a shore platform. (Photo: P. Kamstra.)

DOI: 10.2112/JCR-SI101-071.1 *Corresponding author: [email protected] ©Coastal Education and Research Foundation, Inc. 2020 393 Kamstra, Cook, and Kennedy

METHODS Fieldwork was undertaken as part of the lead authors’ Ph.D. project and took place between September 2016 and March 2019 at two drowning blackspots: San Remo, Victoria (Vic) and Little Bay, New South Wales (NSW; Figure 2). These two sites have some of the highest number of rock fishing-related drownings in Australia (Ryan et al., 2018). Since the study began in 2016, three rock fishers have drowned at these locations (Hope, 2019; Koob, 2019; Sydney Morning Herald, 2018).

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Figure 2. Study sites in (a) San, Remo, VIC and (b) Little Bay, NSW, with locations shown in inserts.

Five methods were used to collect data: first, participant observations were recorded. Second, low- resolution video footage. Third, movement data was collected from rock fishers wearing a hand-held GPS (Global Positioning System). Fourth, sketch mapping-interviews were conducted on-site and digitized in a spatial software program (ArcGIS) to spatially represent where fishers cast to be cross- referenced with fishers’ risk perceptions. Lastly, semi-structured interviews were conducted with fishers who had witnessed or had heard of and discussed local fatalities with other fishers.

STORIES FROM THE FIELD As a Canadian, the lead author was completely unfamiliar with rock fishing prior to starting the research. This lack of experience with the risk under investigation proved valuable, as fishers viewed this inexperience as an opportunity to share their knowledge of effective fishing practice and how to avoid hazards. However, not all fishers were equally interested in participating. One group of young men refused to help unless they received individual cash payments of $200. After this experience, it became clear that asking fishers to participate as a disconnected ‘researcher’ would be ineffective. Instead, to earn the respect of fishers and encourage their participation, the lead author needed to

394 Journal of Coastal Research, Special Issue No. 101, 2020 become a part of the rock fishing community, which required being on the platform edge from 4 am, and on having a line in the water before they arrived (Figure 3).

Figure 3. Lead author rock fishing in San Remo, Victoria, before other fishers arrived. (Photo: P. Kamstra.)

By arriving before fishers, the lead author was viewed as someone who shared their appreciation of rock fishing. This position was significantly different from other experts and officials interested in risk reduction on coasts, who had rarely spoken to fishers, with the exception of law enforcement seeking to fine fishers without lifejackets. This contentious past between fishers and risk managers is described by Glen, a fisher in NSW with over thirty years of experience: ‘The only time I’ve seen people from the council down here is when they are trying to fine me for not wearing a life jacket. I’ve been fishing these rocks for over thirty years and know how to be safe, but all they (i.e. council) want to do is either close spots or fine us for not wearing these terrible Australian Standard lifejackets.’

One moment that served as an important connection between fishers’ and the lead author was when the lead author continued to cast while a fisher set up an additional rod. While holding the rod set to target , a large king fish – arguably the most prized fish in NSW – was hooked. This prompted a collective reaction whereby one fisher immediately ran to grab a gaff and two others watched in excitement, laughing and instructing the struggling lead author how to move and safely land the fish. It was through informal and collective events such as this that a relationship between the lead author and the fishing community was strengthened, which led to the participation of other fishers after hearing that the ‘nerdy researcher landed a kingy.’

In Victoria, a more awkward moment that, thankfully, resulted in fishers respecting the lead author for attempting to fish was casting a line and tangling it with two experienced fishers’ lines. These fishers had previously described their frustration when inexperienced fishers’ – who can’t cast properly – tangle lines, which caused significant embarrassment for the researcher. During the earlier conversations, an experienced fisher Tom enjoyed recounting how he often cut inexperienced fishers’ lines for standing to close to him: ‘I told the guy, stay away from me! I’ve seen him casting all over the place and I just knew he’d tangle me up. So, the next time he casted anywhere near me, I reached over and clipped his line with these scissors and looked at him. I think he got the message [laughs].’

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Despite the lead author disrupting Tom’s fishing practice and costing him an expensive lure, his willingness to participate was not affected; instead, he and his friends considered the event an opportunity to torment the lead author. Had the lead author not spent multiple eight-hour fishing days with Tom, this event could have been catastrophic and deterred other fishers from participating. Throughout data collection, multiple fishers noted that fishing with them helped develop a sense of trust between the lead author and the fishing community. Without experiencing the thrill of rock fishing and the hazards that fishers are exposed to, it would have been more difficult to establish a relationship and, thus, encourage their participation.

Rock fishers are a highly mobile population that select different fishing sites based on both daily and seasonal coastal conditions, desired fish to target, and where their friends are fishing. More importantly, from a methodological standpoint, rock fishing is a place of escape and relaxation, meaning that rock fishers do not want to be pressured to participate in methods that are intrusive or that disrupts their fishing. This means that the methods chosen had be flexible and able to accommodate fishers who have concluded a typical eight-hour fishing session and who often need to attend to a variety of familial or work responsibilities afterwards. As a result, semi-structured interviews were conducted informally throughout an eight-hour fishing session, while sketch- mapping interviews tended to take place during an eating break or when a fisher chose to change their .

Limited English proficiency during semi-structured and sketch-mapping interviews, at times, also presented a challenge to data collection. When performing sketch-mapping interviews and facilitating discussions about fishers’ perceptions of risk, for example, some fishers’ ability to communicate how they perceived risk was affected. Due to the communal nature of rock fishing, few rock fishers fished alone. In many cases, fishers tended to fish with others from a similar cultural background who share a common language, providing an opportunity for fishers to translate their friends’ responses. For example, a group of four Indonesian fishers, who had fished Little Bay for over a year were not all fluent English speakers. To assist each other, one of the four fishers, who was fluent in English, translated a limited – but effective – number of features for the sketch-map interviews as well as how each fisher anticipated hazardous coastal conditions offshore (i.e. risk perceptions). This provided a limited but useful opportunity to understand how fishers who lack English proficiency perceive risk.

Partnering with fishing community groups that share a similar cultural background and are not all fluent in English before conducting fieldwork in highly diverse rock fishing communities could have increased non-English speakers’ ability to participate. It also would have provided an opportunity to capture non-English speaking fishers’ perceptions and experiences of risk, which are rarely included in coastal risk research. One group of Thai fishers, for example, could not participate because they were not fluent English speakers; had we ensured an English speaker could translate their responses beforehand, the entire group could have participated. Partnering with cultural fishing groups prior to fieldwork could also provide an affordable alternative to paying for translators in future coastal risk research.

Another unanticipated challenge while conducting fieldwork on the coast was the prevalence of extreme environmental conditions, including gusting winds affecting the audio recording and safe storage of completed paper sketch-map interviews. On one occasion, a strong gust of wind blew eight rock fishers’ sketch-maps out of the researcher’s file folder. Although devastating for the lead author at the time, the collective cheer and laughter of fishers watching an entire nine-hour day of data collection flying out to sea served as a bonding moment as many fishes offered to help the next time they were fishing as they could see the sense of loss on the lead author’s face. Similar to a short

396 Journal of Coastal Research, Special Issue No. 101, 2020 ethnographic study, being immersed in the rock fishing community and learning how to navigate and co-occupy hazardous space is why we believe the majority of fishers actively participated. As a result of this immersion, fishers’ participation also extended to invitations to rock fishing club meetings and dinners at rock fishers’ homes, which all served as important and unanticipated opportunities for ongoing discussions of risk.

CONCLUSION This study highlights the importance of becoming a rock fisher when conducting coastal risk research. Through unplanned events such as landing a king fish or tangling fisher’s lines, the lead author was taught safe fishing practices and correct fishing etiquette, which is knowledge of risk that is typically overlooked in favour of risk signage and lifejacket legislation. Rock fishers also voiced their appreciation for valuing their perceptions and analysing how they perceive risk via an innovative mixed methodology; this is juxtaposed with past intersections with risk management in which fishers were mainly told how to fish (i.e. lifejackets) by individuals who, in most cases, had never been rock fishing. Future participatory coastal risk research could seek to partner with cultural fishing communities and experienced rock fishers to better understand the everyday risk reduction practices that experienced fishers have learned, especially the site-specific risks that groups of fishers may be unfamiliar with. This includes developing a greater sense of trust between coastal communities, risk managers, and researchers towards developing more democratic risk management strategies that reflect how risk is experienced and mitigated.

LITERATURE CITED Bradstreet, A.; Sherker, S.; Brighton, B.; Weir, A., and Thompson, M., 2012. Research Review of Rock Fishing Safety in New South Wales: A Report by Surf Life Saving Australia to the NSW Department of Primary Industries. Sydney, NSW: Surf Life Saving Australia, 93p.

Hope, Z., 2019. missing after being swept off rocks near San Remo. https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/fisherman-missing-after-being-swept-off-rocks-near-san- remo-20191223-p53mlk.html

Kamstra, P.; Cook, B.; Edensor, T., and Kennedy, D.M., 2018. Re-casting experience and risk on rocky coasts: a relational analysis using qualitative GIS. The Geographical Journal, 185(1), 111- 124.

Koob, S., 2019. Search for fisherman swept out to sea near Philip Island. https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/search-for-fisherman-swept-out-to-sea-near-phillip-island- 20190916-p52rnd.html

McInnes, K.L.; White, C.J.; Haigh, I.D.; Hemer, M.A.; Hoeke, R.K.; Holbrook, N.J.; Kiem, A.S.; Oliver, E.C.; Ranasinghe, R., and Walsh, K.J., 2016. Natural hazards in Australia: Sea level and coastal extremes. Climatic Change, 139(1), 69-83.

Ryan, A.; Rijksen, E.; Stone, K., and Daw, S., 2018. Coastal Safety Brief: Rock Fishing. Surf Life Saving Australia, 19p.

Sydney Morning Herald, 2018. Fisherman in a critical condition after being swept off rocks at Sydney beach. https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/fisherman-in-a-critical-condition-after-being-swept- off-rocks-at-sydney-beach-20171231-h0bt03.html

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