This article appeared in the Jan/Feb 1999 Edition
of Fly-Fishing
in Salt Waters
Randall
Bryett
After
a two & a half-hour flight over the Great Barrier Reef, the
chartered Aero Commander from Reefwatch Avaiation settled down at
Bamaga International Airport, best described as a medium-sized shed.
This was our jumping-off point for eight days of fishing in the
Gulf of Carpentaria
Greg
Bethune of Carpentaria Seafaris was on hand to help us transfer
our gear and drive us 12 miles to the tiny village of Seisia. Red
dust from the dirt road covered every building, every car, every
dog and even some of the people in Seisia (and if you go there,
don't forget to have Greg show you the spear-proof jail).
At
Seisia we boarded our mothership, the Capricorn Mist, a 40-foot
Grand Banks-style ship which can accommodate six anglers. On this
trip, however, there would be only four: Steve Starling, Australian
angling superstar; Ed Rice, U.S. sports-show guru; my wife Kate;
and me.
The
Capricorn Mist
towing the skiffs.
Departing
from Seisia, we headed for the mouth of the Doughboy River to anchor
for the night, pausing long enough for Ed and Steve to chase some
longtail tuna in one of four skiffs towed behind the Capricorn Mist.
At the mouth of the Doughboy we were greeted by large Queensland
grouper (estuary cod) that took up residence under the vessel, using
it as a convenient ambush site or waiting for handouts. These fish
weigh anywhere from 300 to 500 pounds, and with several under the
boat at a time, they become a form of entertainment in themselves.
One
of these critters took to stalking our skiff as Kate and I cast
along a rocky drop-off. While I was releasing a 5-pound mangrove
jack, Kate saw the big fish coming and hollered "Shark!",
as any well-trained American will do. I snapped the mangrove jack
away from the grouper's enormous mouth just in the nick of time,
and my heart was pounding as I casually mentioned to Kate that the
big groupers appeared to be reasonably quick. We were to find them
in most of the river systems where we anchored.
Greg
calls his four towed skiffs "widow boats". He found them
by canvassing neighborhoods for unused boats resting in the weeds
behind houses. The owners were usually delighted to receive an offer
for their surplus craft, and Greg hauled them away, stripped them
down to the hull, and gave them new life as a fishing dinghy.
The
"widow boats" averaged 15 feet. Each was equipped with
casting and polling platforms and cleared of any obstacles to catch
fly line. Powered by 25-horsepower engines, they were perfect for
attacking the miles of flats, river systems, and offshore reefs
we encountered during our eight-day charter.
One
of the skiffs also doubled as Greg's camera boat. He fancies himself
a Cecil B. DeMille type and really does make your trip look epic
on video. With him doing the filming, you have more time to do nothing
but fish, sleep, and eat. This is truly a fishing camp for big kids.
Kate
with some 'muddies'
Speaking
of eating, your three square meals a day aboard the Capricorn Mist
are prepared (and usually caught) by Greg's wife, Jennie, and they
are delightful. Mud crab night was especially memorable. Greg caught
the "muddies" in the Skardon River, then cleaned, cracked
and cooked them on deck in the largest wok I have ever seen. Mud
crabs are a specialty second only to a local treat called Numus,
similar to Ceviche but prepared with raw queenfish and served at
the Sharp Bar (i.e., the ship's bow) with a cold stubbie (beer).
Crocodiles,
sharks, stonefish, sea snakes and other wonderful "bities"
abound in these waters, but most of the locals make it to puberty
just by following some simple rules - which anglers also should
observe. First, you should believe in all situations that crocodiles
are present and that even though you can't see them, they can see
you. Second, do no swim or wade in the water.
But
those rules shouldn't stop you from walking most beaches and sand
flats, because these offer some of the most exciting sight fishing
in the world. Greg showed us some of the best places and explained
the Zen behind avoiding "skinks", his endearing little
name for saltwater crocodiles. Don't obsess about these beautiful
creatures; if anything, you should be thrilled to see them in their
natural environment.
We
encountered many different fishing situations in our eight-day adventure.
By splitting up, sometimes with a guide or sometimes hunting our
own spots, we also captured many different species. The real bread-and-butter
quarry included barramundi, queenfish, golden trevally, longtail
tuna, mackerel, giant herring (ladyfish), and even permit.
Steve's
Giant Trevally
Ed
and Steve put a lot of effort into stalking permit and Steve managed
to hook a good one only to have the fish rub his crab imitation
in the sand after a short fight. But his disappointment later turned
to joy when he captured a massive giant herring, which is now a
pending world record. With great speed, power, and a propensity
for aerobatics, these fish are spectacular opponents reminiscent
of tarpon. Greg reckons they're like bonefish on steroids.
The
queenfish is another fantastic fighter. If you like the sight and
sound of a fly line ripping through the water, you must try one
of these. Kate caught an awesome specimen that slashed at her Deceiver
several times before finally smashing it boatside while she stripped
the fly full speed. The resulting boil of water made it look like
someone had thrown in a large cinder block. She fought the "queenie"
hard for 45 minutes.
Unlike
most queenfish, which go ballistic with spectacular somersaults
in an effort to throw the hook, this one never jumped. Instead,
it burrowed down deep, giving Kate a painful reminder of her experience
duking it out with a pair of giant trevally the day before - encounters
she described as "having her butt kicked". But this time
the fish slowly succumbed to constant pressure, looking like a large
wobbling mirror as it reflected the sun's rays through the water,
and we finally tailed it. It would have qualified as a woman's world
record, but turned out to be foul-hooked as Kate had suspected,
so she released it - something she would have done anyway, I think.
Kate
with a King Mackeral
We
fished three different river systems, casting Clousers to small
tarpon, barramundi, mangrove jack and various bream in snags. We
also tossed big sinking flies into berley (chum) trails over reefs
for king mackerel, tuna, fingermark and re emperors (one of Australia's
best-eating fish). And we walked and spits and beaches searching
for golden trevally, ladyfish and barracuda. But the most incredible
fishing of all came on our last day.
That
morning, as I was on my way to brush the rum out of my teeth, I
looked out and saw acres of baitfish being ravaged by predators.
Large numbers of birds hovered over slashing tuna and mackerel working
vast bait schools as gar as we could see. We even glimpsed a large
whaler shark charging through a school of baitfish along our bow,
gorging on the tightly packed prey
Breakfast
was a hurried affair as we scrambled to make the most of our dwindling
time. The fishing that followed was fast and furious. Ed and Steve
zoomed off toward a patch of birds about a half a mile away and
we soon saw both of them fighting fish. We found our own little
patch of erupting water and Kate cast, stripped the fly once, and
bingo! The rod bucked over and line screamed off the reel at high
speed. Looking for trouble, I did the gentlemanly thing and also
made a cast, immediately hooking another fish. After about 15 minutes
of blood, sweat, and under-and-overs, we both landed bludger trevally
of about 16 pounds each. Like all trevally, these were tough customers
and sluggers in the deeper water.
Ed
and myself with
a Longtail Tuna
After
that we tried to work our way over toward Ed and Steve, who were
having heaps of fun, but ended up getting stick over a school of
northern bluefin tuna that kept us busy for the better part of the
next two hours. These fish were between 10 and 20 pounds and real
line burners. I've always thought that if they grew as large as
yellowfin, they could pull 'em backwards.
Then
an offshore wind came up and things got a little sloppy, so we decided
to head toward the beach where we had seen huge bait schools earlier.
There, in the lee of the shore, the ocean was glassy and we could
see a panicky school of bait being hit from all sides in about four
feet of water. The marauders could be seen distinctly: golden trevally,
queenies, mackerel, giant trevally and whaler sharks. We grabbed
our rods and drifted over the school of baitfish, which immediately
tried to take shelter under our boat.
So
there we were, out in the middle of bloody nowhere, amid fantastic
scenery with fish going berserk all around us. What a way to end
a trip!
During
those eight days I captured 19 different species on fly. It was
my first serious fly-fishing experience, and I came away with the
feeling that the Gulf of Carpentaria may have added a whole new
dimension to the term "beginner's luck".
Fishing
Among the "Skins"
