Fiji 2018 - Trevally in Nasomo Bay

I caught the Sea Bus boat out to the Northern Yasawas, 4 hours and about 80km North of the mainland. On the journey I was enjoying the deep blue water and calm seas. The skipper said that this was the season for trolling for tuna.

When we were almost there I could see the separate islands, and excitedly checked the names of each one against my map.

Deep channels like this one lie between these resort islands. On one of the first nights that I was there a yachtie went out to a channel marker in his small boat, and using a Rapala casting lure, caught a large GT, right out front of the Nayula Resort, at the famous 'Blue Lagoon'. This was very inspiring to hear, as the mighty GT were at the top of my list to target.

Transferring to a long boat I rode to my home-stay with a local family, full of anticipation.

The Location

I stayed at Waitui Basecamp, which has a lovely tidal bay right out in front. This is sheltered by arms of land on two sides, but open to the prevailing trade winds from the East.

The sheltered bay at low tide, showing the turtle grass on both sides of the channel.

View of the bay at mid tide, from my diggs.

High tide in Nasolo Bay

The Fishing

I fished on two days in Nasomo Bay. The Blue-fin Trevally are strong, aggressive fish. The average length of the ones I caught was around 14 inches. They come in with the tide, and Henry Murray from Fly Fish Fiji recommended fishing from low tide on the pushing tide. I found them around the turtle grass beds, just like Henry said I would.

When you’ve got it dialled in, you realise that there’s a definite bite time, and it's not necessary or productive to fish all day. Then this kind of fishing can be quite a civilised affair. You tackle up and wander down to the flats at dead low tide, fish for two or three hours, catch a fish or three, and then walk back for a cold drink at the bar. The typical session begins at the furthest out point that you can walk to, casting as close as you dare to the coral ledge, retrieving over the turtle grass, and waiting for the fish to swim past on the incoming tide. About an hour and a half, or two hours later, they turn up, and you get some hits until you too get pushed along with the rising tide.

This kind of fishing reminded me for all the world of casting over the weed-beds on my favourite New Zealand alpine lake. The sun shone, and sparkled on the water. The fresh South-Easterly trade wind blew over my right shoulder, so I put my back to the wind and directed my back-cast to the fish. The cast did not need to be long. I was standing on the turtle grass patch, and the drop-off into the channel was only 20 feet away. So I'd cast into the channel, let the small clouser minnow sink on a 15 foot level leader for 30 seconds or so, and then retrieve it back up the shelf, and onto the weed-beds with short strips. The fish would hit just as the fly was 'escaping' up out of the deeper water, and over the edge into the cover of the turtle grass shallows. 

This meant that they were hitting only a rod-length or two from me. The exciting fishing occurred when the predatory fish would chase bait-fish around over the grass bed. The little 2-3 inch bait-fish would leap out of the water as the Trevally moved up onto the flat, sprinkling the surface, and showing the direction of movement of the fish. A quick cast 10-20 feet ahead of the disturbance would land my lure in the fishes path, and then a few strips, as fast as I could would often result in a hard grab. These fish were not big, often around 14 inches, and would have been great sport on a 6 weight fly-rod. However, the heavy clouser minnow I was casting, which was the smallest in my collection, needed the 9 weight set-up to get it out there comfortably. And there was no way I was going to hook a large strong fish casting into the channel, especially with GTs around, and then loose it through being outgunned. So I stuck with the 9 weight, and backed off the drag on the superb Sage reel.  

Often the fish hit as one was walking and stripping, and always on the fast strip, never on the drop, or a slow strip. This suggested to me that the faster the retrieve the better. To be honest, many times I wished for a 5 Kg spinning rod to cover the water more efficiently, and retrieve faster. This would have also enabled me to cast far out into the channel, let the lure sink down 20m, and then retrieve it at speed, and near the bottom. Perhaps with a large soft plastic lure. The concentrations of fish down in that sandy channel would have been much less per cubic meter of water than here on the grass. So the spinning method would have again been more suited to covering a lot of water quickly. But I'm a fly-fisherman, and I wanted big fish. I don't own a medium weight spinning outfit, only a small telescopic one, so I'd left that rod at home as being too light weight. Next time I might through it in.

The fringe of the coral reef which you're fishing next to. DON'T STAND ON IT!! As this kills the coral.

Turtle grass flats in shallow water

Once it gets about waist deep it’s time to walk back towards camp, casting as you go. It took half an hour to wade back to shore. I kept a large knife on my belt in case of sharks attracted by my dead fish, but the only hazard I saw was stingrays. Unfortunately they swum into very shallow water and there were no Trevally riding on them at this low point in the tide.

In this photo you can see the water between me and the land. 

There’s a second patch of turtle grass that you’ll discover now, overlooked in the rush to reach the deep water, and a chance of another fish here.

Turtle grass after the tide has come in

The Trevs, or Sanga as the locals call them, are a beautiful fish. Freshly caught they’re silver, to blue on the flanks, with green backs, and rainbow iridescence on their bellies. Well camouflaged with their dark backs and scythe like pectoral fins, you seldom spot them until they’re on the line, and even then, in the water they look a lot smaller than they really are. What they lack in size they make up for in power, and the largest Trev, no bigger than a trout of six pounds, had my nine weight bent deeply and it was a real grunt to wrestle it in.This fish was particularly memorable, and not just because it was the biggest one. 

I was prospecting the shelf edge on the pushing tide, about half-way through a 3 hours session on the 24th of July. As my fly came up over the edge and over the weed-beds there was a swirl, and I saw a dark-backed fish following and harassing my fly. After the pause, I gave a couple more short sharp strips as the fly approached my rod tip, and the fish took! I set the hook with a firm strip-strike, rod kept low, and it took off into the channel. After a very satisfying battle, which went on for 5-10 minutes, I had the fish worn out, and was able to drag it onto the flat, and over the weed beds. I walked it a good ways towards the beach, until it shallowed out, and it got bigger all the way. Dealing with it in knee deep water was difficult, and I was glad for my gloves and knife. Photography was very difficult without an angling buddy to be the photographer.

All up that day I had 6 hits, and landed 3 game fish, as well as the usual handful of 8 inch reef fish with no fight in them. 

I was pleased with the two nice eating Trevally, and also a small Queenfish, which was my first on fly. After the long walk back to base, I got a decent photo taken, with the two Blue-finned Trevally.

And with my host Jerry, who is an angler experienced in the local methods. I asked Jerry if these Sanga were, small, medium or large fish. He thought quietly considered this question. I was hoping that he would say that it was a big one. Then he answered with a quiet confidence, that this was a medium size fish. I guess this is good news, as it means that there are much bigger ones out there.

They’re tasty too, and your hosts will happily fry them up for your dinner. They put on this great BBQ for us that night.

My smallest Trevally at bottom right

The villagers love sea food. I contributed half a dozen fish during my stay which were much appreciated. I've included a couple of images from this daily life of mahinga kai - gathering the food.

A girl takes an octopus from the boat to the kitchen for young chef Duncan to cook up. Delicious!

Tomorrow’s the last day, and I want to try something different, in the hope of a bigger fish. What, that something is, I’m not quite sure yet. We’re heading into the full moon, so the low tide may be extra low, and you never know what species or size of fish that could bring onto the flats.

The alternative would be to switch to the seven weight, counting on wading close to the shelf, and fish the same spot as I did today and yesterday. This can be a good option when one can’t get onto the big GTs and Queen fish that you came for. Simply adjust the tackle down to suit the size of the fish, and enjoy every tug and run. 

I'd also like to try one of my crab flies. These were recommended as being deadly for Trevally by Captain JP Samuelson, who is a South African who guides in Fiji. The fish I gutted had the remains of a very small crab in it, so I know they're eating them. The other advantage of the crab flies, is that unlike the bait-fish imitations, they could be realistically presented with a very slow figure eight retrieve across the sandy bottom. This may not sound important reading this in the comfort of your home, but blind casting for hours with a heavy weight fly-rod, stripping a weighted lure back fast, and then casting again is hard work. If I could get the fish to hit on a slow retrieve then this would make the fishing even more enjoyable, require less casting, and keep the fly in the strike zone for much longer.