For the love of Giant Trevally
In every fly fisherman’s journey, I think there comes a time when one species or another gets under your skin. It can be triggered by a particular experience, a certain trip or perhaps a slow understanding of what makes that species tick. Quite often this can then lead to a path of obsession unlike any other – it keeps you awake at night and many of our waking moments are taken up with trying to decipher what might make you more successful the next time you hit the water. For many it’s tarpon, for the unlucky few, it’s permit. For me, it’s giant trevally. These predatory behemoths stalk the flats of my dreams and often have me waking in a cold sweat. I once found myself setting the hook in my sleep which did not amuse my wife!
My obsession began on a wide edged ocean side flat on a far pin prick of land in the Indian Ocean in the early 2000s. I had stalked many a flat in the Caribbean over the previous decade, but this was my first venture onto the atolls of the Seychelles. There is a big difference between wading along hunting tails in calf depth water to taking the next step and wading from thigh to chest depth in the surf line. I was definitely out of my comfort zone. I was acutely aware that there are other hunters that patrol these areas and my senses were electric. Just then, a wave set came in and there, in the wave like a framed picture was a GT surfing down the inside. The hunting instinct kicked in, I managed some resemblance of a cast and managed to flop the tan brush fly in its general vicinity.
The fish heard the fly land, did a 180 degree turn and hit the afterburner as it annihilated the fly and immediately took off back to the reef edge. In all the years I have been chasing these creatures across the world, it never ceases to amuse me to watch someone’s face when they hook their first GT on fly. Nothing prepares you for the speed and power of the take and the adrenaline rush it produces is overwhelming – perhaps heightened by your tingling senses in the environment you are in. I am sure that my face mirrored all those emotions and I made first contact. Even though that first fish was by no means a monster, I was struggling to control it on a 12# as I floundered in between coral heads and the incoming waves. Eventually I managed to back up enough onto the edge of the flats, gain some traction and finally apply enough pressure to prevent that fish heading over the edge and certain destruction.
What is it that makes these fish so highly regarded as a target saltwater species? Bonefish are more honest, tarpon get bigger and permit are definitely wilier. I believe the first is their adaptability. GTs are incredibly opportunistic hunters. They will use everything at their disposal to hunt and they will feed on a huge variety of different prey species. One minute they are smashing bait in packs off the edge of the beaches and driving them up the shore, the next they might be tailing on crabs on the flats and a little while later they will be sat on the back of a ray smashing anything it happens to scare up. They will even target full grown birds off the surface and even appear to be aware of this seasonal delicacy. For a fly fisherman this makes them a phenomenal species to target as every experience you have with them is different.
As I touched on briefly, it is the environment you fish for them that plays a big role. Tarpon are often massive and are a magnificent fly species. There is, I think, a big difference in poling around on a skiff to chase fish and actually immersing yourself in their environment. I have always preferred to wade when saltwater fishing for this reason. You become so much more aware of all the living creatures scuttling around at your feet, you feel the tide pushing in and out as it tugs at your shorts and when you come off the flats and fish the surfline sometimes it is a battle to just stay on your feet, let alone put a line out. You also develop what I refer to as the “Cosmoledo Sweep”. When you are scanning from left to right looking for fish, this refers to the practice of every third scan looking behind you as well to make sure that there are no sharks or ocean-going barracuda creeping up on you.
Once I remember wading out through some slightly deeper water to get to a headland with my guide on Farquhar Atoll. We had to cross an area of rather crunchy coral shingle to reach it and just as the gradient rose and came to knee depth we turned around to find a metre plus GT had actually snuck in behind us. He had obviously been alerted by the noise of our boots and come to investigate a potential snack! I know that some of this might sound rather alarming, but once you have become accustomed to it and have been under the tutelage of guides that deal with it every day, the fear quickly evaporates. If someone had told me when I first began fishing for this species that every time I saw a shark on the flats I would run towards instead of away from it I would have thought them mad. GTs will often hang behind a shark and feed off any prey it spooks in a sort of grotesque game of Grandmother’s footsteps.
Speed would be another factor that I love about these fish. The speed they exhibit when hunting will take your breath away. This, combined with their ability to track a moving object in the air, is astounding. I have seen instances of a GT tracking a fly in the air as it is cast and intercepting it as it hits the surface, a technique that comes in very handy when hunting birds on the wing. It can create chaos for those being initiated into the joys of this species. Picture finally making it onto the flats after months of preparation. You are wading in thigh depth water and your guide points out a stingray with a GT on its back some 20 yards away. The heart is pounding, the legs slightly shaking. You strip off some line, throw out the 6/0 fly attached to the 130 lbs mono attached to the 12# rod that still feels like a broom handle. You begin to cast across the wind backhand, desperately trying not to stick that large hook into yourself and after a couple of attempts manage to put the fly somewhere near the ray. While you are trying to grab the loose line and remember to take up the slack and strip like the guide told you, the fish has charged off the ray and hit the fly. Without missing a beat it is already disappearing into the blue as a stray loop of running line whips up, wraps around the rod butt, comes tight and wraps around the reel foot. Bang! The 50 lbs cored fly line parts like a gunshot going off and it’s all over… another one chalked up to experience. Sometimes they charge the fly so fast coming towards you, it’s simply impossible to maintain contact with the fly and they spit it out before you ever come tight.
GTs don’t always eat. There seems to be a misconception around these fish that they always smash everything thrown in their general direction. This is not the case by any means and GTs have the same innate ability to drive you mental as every other gamefish. Sometimes they can just have total lockjaw with no apparent reason. With tarpon, you often have to convince them to eat by the use of the retrieve and the mobile materials in the fly patterns. It is possible to “feed” a tarpon or a permit and occasionally this is possible with GTs as well, especially the big ocean-going fish. They are big for a reason and often they can be lazy with flies, tracking them for some time before finally committing. Other times they will just point-blank refuse which perhaps can be down to tidal phase or barometric pressure. This is more of a hunch than proven fact. Besides if they ate everything the challenge would be gone and it would no longer be as beguiling as it is.
There is no doubt that hunting GTs is challenging. It is not the kind of species that you can just wake up one morning and decide to go and catch. It does take some preparation and ability. I say this as even fishing destinations like the Seychelles, where this species is more prolific than most, encounters are still sometimes few and far between and often require covering huge areas to locate the right phase of tide and prey species. You will need to put the time in to experience the reward and there is no instant fix. The key is to capitalise on the opportunities when they occur. Don’t attempt to fish for GTs with sub-standard kit either or they will destroy it. I would also say It helps hugely to be proficient at double hauling with a 12# and big flies, both forehand and especially backhand. Invariably they are always coming at you across the wrong shoulder. Casting this rig while standing up to your waist in water is a skill in itself and takes some getting used to. Longer belly lines allow you to pick up and put down a misplaced cast and it’s very different to firing a short-bellied line off the front of a skiff. Although easier to turn over big flies, short-bellied lines will make life harder as they require you to strip in all the thin running line before recasting, by which time the fish has normally gone. Managing the running line also becomes challenging in moving water, especially if it sinks as it will get caught on the coral. Mastering all these skills, I feel, are one of the most rewarding facets of fly fishing for GTs.
Every so often while wading the flats or the edges you encounter a beast. In GT terms this is generally considered to be over one metre in length which equates to some 45 lbs. This is a fish that has a mouth that can open nearly a foot in diameter and could easily swallow a chicken whole. If you spend enough time on the flats you will probably tangle with one, and what happens next can often be a blend of skill and luck and more often than not it ends in tears. The last time it happened to me will forever be etched in my mind. We were moving down on the large sand flats on the east side of Providence Atoll in the Seychelles. The lagoon system was on our left and we were right up on the apex of the flat. Coming down tide, I spotted something large and black heading in our direction. I was not sure if it was a ray as it was very wide, but prepared myself as there might be a fish on its back. As we got close, it dawned on me that it was not a ray at all, but a massive GT.
My heart skipped a beat as I threw the Olive Semper fly in front of me to clear the line and began to cast. The distance closed as I dropped the fly two feet in front and slightly to the left of the fish. This would mean my retrieve would pull the fly away from it at an angle, much like a fleeing bait fish. I let the fly sink for a few seconds and gave it one long strip. The fish flared immediately and turned in that direction. I found myself holding my breath as I started to strip, long smooth pulls. The fish followed and on the third strip committed. It accelerated and planed up on its fins as it engulfed the fly, its whole head out of the water as it eyeballed its prey. As it turned I pointed the rod straight at the fish and hit it hard twice. It was as if someone had thrown a massive stone in the water and the fish exploded, immediately heading for the safety of the deep water in the lagoon. I was on the reel in a fraction of a second, line being ripped off the spool as it made a tortured scream. As I bent the rod over to the opposite side and attempted to try and gain control, I felt the unmistakable feeling of line grating against coral heads. It neatly threaded my fly line through the coral heads like knitting until everything went solid. My shoulders slumped as I knew the battle was over. What’s left of the fly line was made into a bracelet by one of the deck hands and every time I look at it I am humbled by that experience.
These “Gangsters of the flats” are found in some of the most beautiful places on the planet and have a very large footprint. They are found in the Indian Ocean across Australasia and the Pacific. I have had the joys of hunting them from Christmas Island in the Pacific, Indonesia, Sudan, the Seychelles, Mozambique and South Africa. Each destination has its own challenges, cultures and techniques, each one teaching you something different about these magnificent creatures. I have travelled to fish for them every year for the last 20 years and every year I learn something new about these magnificent fish. I shall carry on dreaming until once again I step off the edge of the tender boat into that azure water, 12# in hand and my love of giant trevally can continue.
If you would like more information on fishing for GTs, you might like to have a look at my book “GT – A Fly Fishers Guide to Giant Trevally”.
