The Spice of Life: By Andrew Mayo
Modern Fishing May 2004
If it's variety you're after, you can't beat the staggering array of angling options or diversity of species available on the north west coast of Cape York Peninsula, as ANDREW MAYO recently discovered.
"How long have I been hooked-up, mate?" I asked Greg, while wiping the first beads of sweat from my brow. "At least 10 minutes, fella. Get a move on, will ya!" He replied with a laugh, as he scrounged around in his Pelican case and fired up the video camera. Meanwhile, the school of longtails continued to feed with reckless abandon all around us. At one stage I started counting free-swimming tuna as they cruised underneath the skiff, casually sipping on baitfish, but gave up when I got to 15. You wouldn't read about it… Except, perhaps, in Modern Fishing!
This was absolute bliss, especially for someone who's more accustomed to sweating it out on a NSW rock ledge for hours - sometimes days - in the hope of locking horns with a longtail or two. At that exact moment, with my spinning reel howling in protest and flick rod loaded to the hilt, I was convinced that the mouth of the Doughboy River, on western Cape York, was the angling equivalent of heaven on earth. And who could blame me? After all, the morning was only one cast old!
It's worth mentioning, however, that since boarding the 'Tropic Paradise' at Seisia three days earlier and cruising south along the Cape's west coast, I'd experienced similar action on a range of different species at various reefs, river mouths and flats. Yet, according to Greg Bethune - who owns and runs this slick live-aboard operation with his wife, Jennie - the fishing hadn't been particularly impressive (by Cape York standards anyway).
To put this into perspective though, life isn't too bad when you can catch a few barra in the snags after breakfast, followed by a swag of queenfish in the river mouth 'round morning tea time - and then bolt out the front before lunch to pin a Spanish mack'! Don't forget the tuna session I touched on earlier, either… In my book that type of action hardly constitutes poor fishing, regardless of the location. And if it does, well, I can't begin to imagine what happens when things really do fire! The Secret's Out
If you're a regular reader of fishing magazines you'll be familiar with the awesome fishing on offer on the western side of Cape York Peninsula, particularly between Weipa and the Tip. That's hardly surprising given the amount of exposure the place has received in the mainstream angling press over the last five years or so. Still, the fact remains that almost everyone who visits this remote stretch of fish-rich coastline is blown away by the sheer variety of piscatorial opportunities available to anglers of all persuasions and skill levels. I know I was!
So, in view of the countless options on offer to keen Cape crusaders, what were the highlights of my all-too-brief, week-long visit to this sport fishing paradise? That's a tough question, but there were definitely a few standout sessions, as well as several unexpected surprises… The Flats Experience
Mid-way through the trip, after a particularly enjoyable morning on the tuna, Greg suggested that we make the most of the run-out tide and go for a quick cruise along the flats to the south of the river mouth before lunch. It turned out to be a good call.
As we slowly drifted along the sand bank, scanning the clear, green water ahead, I spotted a dozen fishy-looking shadows mooching their way along the edge of a shallow sand flat. I initially thought they were golden trevally, but wasn't entirely sure. "They're permit, mate," Greg casually commented. "Have a cast," he urged.
Taking a quick breath, I flicked my paddle-tail grub towards the patch of brown shapes, which occasionally flashed and shimmered as they turned in the sun. The soft plastic plopped down quietly 10 yards ahead of the first fish in the school. I clicked the bail arm over, cranked the handle a couple of times to take up the slack and then paused. I have no idea if the permit were actively feeding or not, but the way they were twisting, turning and working their way over the flat against the ebbing tide certainly looked promising. Then again, these were the first permit I'd ever seen in the flesh!
I watched intently as the first few fish passed over the top of the grub, ignoring it completely as it lay motionless on the sand. Damn! Maybe they hadn't seen it. I instinctively gave the handle a slow turn as the remainder of the school approached, only to have them spook and scatter across the flat. Bugger!
Over the next half hour I had another couple of shots at the same pod of permit, which had steadily increased in size to about 30 fish, but all to no avail. Perhaps a small curl tail grub and some lighter leader may have done the trick - who knows? Unfortunately I didn't pack my bream gear, so I never got to find out. One thing's for sure though, if you could crack the code, permit-on-plastics would be a blast!
In the meantime though, the action was far from over on the sand flat. It had been 10 minutes since my last fruitless attempt and the permit were slowly working their way back over towards us. Greg wanted me to have another crack at them, but I declined and encouraged him to have a go with the fly rod instead. He finally gave in to my relentless pestering and quickly tied on one of his neat, homemade crab flies.
By this stage the permit were 'daisy-chaining' over the middle of the flat, barely 15 metres from the skiff. Greg positioned himself on the casting deck, false cast once and then fired the fly at the school. I was crouched on the poling platform taking it all in through the viewfinder of my camera and saw the fly land, but quickly lost sight of it. I became so absorbed in watching the permit that I didn't even notice when Greg hooked-up.
It was only when I re-focussed that I caught sight of him holding his pulsing rod out to one side, parallel to the water. I let out a hoot, Greg flashed a cheeky grin and the permit didn't even realise it was hooked! Even when it did, the permit hung with its mates in the school, who quickly realised that something was wrong and headed for deeper water. From there it was a good 20 minutes before we had colour on the fish, during which time Greg casually set up his video camera on the poling platform and filmed the whole thing, complete with a running commentary. I suppose you can afford to be a bit blasé about permit when you've caught more than 25 of the buggers on fly!
When Greg finally netted that pumpkinhead, I think I was more excited than he was! They're an amazing looking fish - and far too special to kill - so after I'd shot a pile of pics, Greg carefully revived the permit and sent it on its way. There's no doubt about it; permit-on-fly are a tremendous buzz, even for spin rod-wielding Neanderthals like myself!
By this stage we were already late for lunch, but couldn't resist the temptation to continue stalking the flats. The extra effort paid off when, within minutes of Greg releasing his permit, I sight cast to a pack of turbo-charged giant herring and suckered one with a soft plastic. Unfortunately, I jumped that fish off shortly after the hook-up, but not before being treated to one of the most incredible displays of piscatorial aerobatics and body contortions I've ever seen. These things are incredible! Understandably, I was rapt when I succeeded in hooking and landing one on my very next cast. At a smidgen over 65 centimetres it wasn't exactly a monster, but any giant herring is a welcome catch, regardless of size. They're also one of the best excuses I can think of for being late to lunch! Bottom-Bashing Bonanza
Interestingly, one of the definite - although somewhat unexpected highlights - of my week-long jaunt along the Cape was the brilliant reef fishing for hard-pulling beasties like coral trout, red emperor and large-mouth nannygai. You don't hear a lot about bottom bashing on the Cape, mainly because it tends to be overshadowed by the multitude of high-profile fly and sport fishing options available, but it really is nothing short of phenomenal.
While we enjoyed some great fishing on the inshore reefs, the most memorable session took place on a remote, offshore reef system that Greg had only recently discovered. It took us a good couple of hours of solid steaming out into the Gulf to get there, but the resulting action was definitely worth the long haul. All the top-shelf reef fish were abundant, particularly red throat emperor, large-mouth nannygai and red emperor, but there were also plenty of hard-pulling trevally on hand in their various shapes and forms to keep you on your toes. Heck, I even fluked a 4.5 kilo giant herring on bait. Sacrilege, I know! Nocturnal Novelties
One of the bonuses of being based on a mothership is that the fishing doesn't have to end when the sun goes down. I took full advantage of this situation during my stay and had an absolute ball tweaking lightly weighted soft plastics at night for big tarpon or ox-eye herring - and plenty of them.
After a bit of trial and error we soon realised that the tarpon preferred to hang in the shadows adjacent to the pools of light at the back of the mothership, where they could pick off any stray baitfish. The most effective way to hook one was to flick a soft plastic (typically a three inch shad or curl tail) into the shadows and employ a slow, sink-and-draw retrieve. Most of the hits came 'on the drop' as the lure was sinking, so the best way to detect strikes was to watch your main line where it entered the water for any flicks, jerks or twitches. It was exactly like fishing for bream down south, but twice as much fun!
My regular partner in crime for this caper was the 'Tropic Paradise's' resident chef, Ashley Bawden. Most evenings saw the two of us fishing side by side in one of the roped-off skiffs, laughing ourselves silly for hours on end at the high-flying antics of these rubber-munching tarpoonies. They were quality fish, too, with several nudging the two kilo mark. The biggest one I caught actually launched itself into the skiff on its second leap and proceeded to wake up the entire mothership as it thumped around uncontrollably on the fibreglass deck… Ash and I certainly had a bit of explaining to do the following morning when Greg came across the mess of oversized tarpon scales in 'Mr Pink', his favourite guiding skiff! The Finale
Somewhat fittingly, the final session of the trip delivered the most enjoyable and satisfying fishing of the week. After a hasty brekkie, those who could still bear to hold onto a rod piled into a skiff and prepared for one last assault on the Cape's endless array of line-stretchers. Not surprisingly, several members of our group were thoroughly fished-out and opted to stay on the mothership and enjoy the cruise up the coast to our lunchtime rendezvous point at Vrilya Point. As a result there were a few spare skiffs, so I grabbed one to myself with the genuine intention of using it as a camera boat. Who was I kidding? That idea disappeared as soon as I powered out the river mouth and came across a patch of boisterous tuna wreaking havoc on the surface. C'mon, what was I supposed to do!
Over the course of the next four hours I left the camera in the case and had the time of my life spinning up a string of line-burning longtails ranging in size from six to eight kilos. At one stage I boated three tuna in three consecutive casts from the same school, without even having to start the outboard! Each fish took about 15 minutes to subdue on 10 pound braid and the relatively light spin gear that I was using, so by my calculations that one school of tuna stayed on the surface and hammered the bait ball relentlessly for close to 45 minutes. Pretty amazing stuff!
In the end, the only reason the seething mass of longtails dispersed was due to the arrival of a pair of frighteningly large, box-headed tiger sharks which were intent on crashing the party. Unfortunately, that was also my cue to call it a day and head back to the mothership for a late lunch and, sadly, the journey home.
Relaxing on the top deck of the 'Tropic Paradise' a couple of hours later as we steamed steadily north towards Seisia, I flicked through my trip diary and reflected on the past week's fishing. What clearly stood out above everything else was the staggering number and diversity of species our party had racked up. At a rough guess we accounted for somewhere between 30 and 40 different species, including everything from barra, jacks and queenies through to permit, cobia and red emperor. Incredibly, those stats are neither particularly special nor unusual in this part of the world, which speaks volumes for the consistency and calibre of the fishery. Quite simply, the Cape goes off! Cruising the Cape
Undoubtedly, the ultimate way to experience the angling nirvana of north western Cape York is to spend a week with Greg and Jennie Bethune's highly regarded charter operation, Carpentaria Seafaris, aboard their mothership, the 'Tropic Paradise'. This beaut 19 metre alloy cat was custom-built and fitted out according to Greg and Jennie's exact specifications and provides a dream mobile fishing home for up to 12 anglers plus crew.
The 'Paradise' features comfortable twin-share, air-conditioned cabins, while the main living area offers virtually all the comforts of home. The spacious, carpeted top deck is shaded and is the ideal place to stretch out, catch a few Zzzz's and give your bulging stomach a breather after lunch. Oh, and speaking of food, the meals alone are worthy of a trip with Carpentaria Seafaris, so don't expect to go home without packing on a few pounds!
As for the fishing, almost all the action takes place from zippy 4.5 to 5.5 metre fibreglass skiffs, constructed by one of Greg's mates in Seisia. There's usually six or seven in tow, so unless you're fishing in one of the larger skiffs with a guide, it's often just you and a like-minded pal on board, which leaves plenty of room for casting.
Finally, the icing on the cake is the video which Greg shoots and produces throughout the course of the week. Everyone on board receives a complimentary copy upon departure, which is a great way to ensure that the memories never fade. It's a neat touch.
For more details on Carpentaria Seafaris, check out their impressive website: www.seafaris.com.au or give them a call on (07) 4091 6688.
