Howdy, GTpoppers! This report is a long time coming, but for an important reason. Just after I returned from this trip to Fiji, much of the country was devastated by Tropical Cyclone Winston. It was probably the most severe tropical cyclone in Fijian history, causing all sorts of destruction, particularly around the area in which I stayed. Talking about how much fun I had there just didn't seem right whilst the nation was mourning and rebuilding. But now, many resorts - including Volivoli - have reopened and are ready for new guests. Do yourself a favour and get over there.
If you've read my reports in the past, you'll know I like to spin a yarn out of nothing. If you don't like words, feel free to skip forward to the photos. Otherwise, pour yourself a cuppa and sit back for a tale...
First, a quick bit of backstory. I'd visited Volivoli previously with my family and loved it (report posted here). This time around, the group consisted of myself, mum, dad, sister, cousins x 3 (Mick, Ben, & Ben's wife Alyce), and my cousin's workmate Habib. I've fished with Ben and Mick since we were toddlers, but they never developed quite as radical an obsession as mine. Nevertheless, they'd been telling me for a while that they wanted to have a crack at a GT. I knew Volivoli was the place to do it, so each day, Ben, Mick, Habib and I would head off on Half Cast to make this dream a reality.
After an easy flight from Sydney, we were transferred up to Volivoli in a mini bus, arriving in the late afternoon. Over dinner, I whipped out my trusty Google Earth maps and chatted strategy with Nick. The weather was looking good, with very light winds predicted for the next day, despite a cyclone warning later in the week. As a result, we decided to make the best of the following day: wake up early, grab some takeaway breakfast, and make the long run out to some eastern reefs I'd been salivating over.
Arriving at the first reef, the current was ripping, but the baitfish - mainly flying fish and sprats - were quite dispersed. The boys had a good chance to practice their casting and land a few bluefin trevs and red bass. I was preoccupied tying FG knots and ensuring the guys were well set up for the day ahead. When Ben's red bass came to the boat without pulling any line, he shot me a skeptical look and said that the pre-set drag was "REALLY heavy". I laughed.
Eventually, we found ourselves on the bottom edge of the reef where the current was being seived and channeled by coral outcrops. As we approached, I told Mick to cast on the leading edge of one particularly good-looking bommie. Next cast was Ben's, landing on the back edge. On his third pop, the gold Halco Roosta popper disappeared in a maelstrom of whitewater. "SET THE HOOK!" I bellowed. In the shock of that moment, I really thought Ben would forget himself. Fortunately, his strike came up tight and line poured off the spool. Suddenly, the "REALLY heavy" drag was being put to the test... and failing to bother this fish.
As Nick made a beeline for deep water, the fish continued to strip line at a rate of knots, shaking its head occasionally. When 150m of line had flown off the Saragosa 20000, Ben was worried he'd get spooled! Clearly in pain, he knew the only way to avoid a reefing - which he'd miraculously avoided - was to tighten the drag further. Being a three-handed job, Mick lent one to his brother and turned up the heat. At this point, Ben's little Alvey gimbal was proving woefully inadequate, biting into flesh and doing much more harm than good. Gingerly, we swapped it out for my Fisherman flat harness, and the real fight began.
The fish slowed a little and shook its head viciously. Then it kept pulling drag. Nick vocalised what we were all thinking - the words "shark" and "doggie" were thrown about. Regardless of species, it became abundantly clear that drastic action needed to be taken to stop this bus. Ben palmed the spool and his GT Special bent to the butt. I silently prayed that the knots I'd tied would hold (I do have confidence in my rigs, but it's something else entirely when another person's fish is at stake!). Slowly but surely, the fish began to swim with the boat. Unbelievably, it had run into deep water and somehow avoided the nearby reef.
The next five minutes were more or less what you'd expect. The fish slogged it out down deep, occasionally taking a short run. Each time, Ben wondered what he'd done to deserve this punishment. Eventually, we got deep colour on the fish. That colour was white, which we suspected was the underbelly of a shark. However, as the fish got closer to the surface, we noticed that the colour was more silver than white and the shape more round than long. It was a trevally and it was big. Nick grabbed the trace and I grabbed the tail, and I found myself praying that nothing would give way. Nothing did. Whooping and hollering, we were all ecstatic to see my cousin - my fishing buddy since age three - boat such a stonker for his first ever GT. Perhaps it's no coincidence that Ben's surname is Luck.
That fish would prove difficult to beat; indeed, it was the biggest of the trip and possibly the largest landed on Half Cast. Nevertheless, buoyed a successful release, we went back to casting in that area. Habib, who had been fishing soft plastics all morning, proceeded to catch two GTs on his first two casts. A few more fish came in over the next couple of hours.
As the tide slowed and the sun rose higher, we found ourselves in beautiful but excruciatingly hot glassout conditions. Our clothes were saturated with sweat, so figuring it couldn't get any more uncomfortable, we tried a little jigging. Habib managed a doggie of about 25kg (much to the displeasure of the local sharks). When the heat became truly intolerable, we all jumped in for a lunchtime swim, followed by a touch of trolling. There wasn't much happening on the troll with only a stinky barracuda and a missed wahoo to show for our efforts. We did, however, get to see a big pod of pilot whales from about 50 m away. Spectacular!
Once the tide turned and a few clouds appeared in the sky, we resumed casting for GTs. The fishing was hot, both literally and figuratively. We found some nervous schools of fusiliers pressed up against the reefs and everyone managed to pull fish from them. One particularly large GT snapped Habib's line in a savage boatside strike. It literally knocked a red bass out of the way to eat the popper!
By the end of this first day, the boys had really gained an appreciation of the physically draining nature of GT popping. They also reaped the rewards, with the doggie being prepared both as sashimi and steaks for dinner. These dishes were absolutely delicious, as were the sides of tropical salad. The chefs at Volivoli excel at cooking locally inspired meals, which I would recommend over typical Western fare.
Our second day started at 5:30 again. Instead of heading east, we tracked west to sample a different reef system where the currents are generally strong. The first hour or so was dead, with bait schools proving difficult to locate in the wind-ruffled waters. However, when we did find some fusiliers, the GTs were never far behind. One school of fusies decided to use the boat as refuge, but that didn't deter the geets - double hookups ensued and everyone got their share of fish over the morning.
When the wind got up, we started working the deep reef edge, but the guys found conditions too choppy to use the casting platform. We resorted to some fruitless trolling and jigging before hitting one last reef ahead of a rain squall. The GTs were following lures but not committing fully. We called it a day.
Upon arrival back at Volivoli, Ben and I decided to flick some small hard bodies around the flats on a rising tide. This produced a number of small gold spot trevally plus one bigger specimen at ~3 kg. That fish ate my Shimano Waxwing in less than 1 m of water and forced a white-knuckled battle. Great fun on PE1.5, and a nice end to another day in paradise.
On day three, I awoke to torrential rain, and a house call from Nick at 5am. The cyclonic weather we'd been expecting had apparently set in. Today was to be a non-fishing day. The boys and I enjoyed some much-appreciated sleep before having a cast down by the breakwall; this area did not produce on a runout tide. Plus, we were interrupted by rain... and what else is there to do when you get caught in the rain but drink Piña Coladas! The Beach Bar was a lovely shelter from the abysmal weather (and a fine source of pizza) until there was a break in the rain after lunch.
When we ducked back to the rooms to consider a siesta, we could see - from the verandas - some pelagics hunting bait along the reef edge at low tide. We quickly rigged up and grabbed a couple of tandem kayaks. It was awesome fun to stalk the fish in stealth mode, casting at workups in what had become millpond calm conditions. Although the schools of yellowfin were too far offshore to reach in our small craft, we still managed some small tuna and trevally on the light gear, spotting turtles and sharks as we went.
When the tide pushed up over the reef flat, the pelagic action died down and we returned to the sand spit in front of the Beach Bar. There, I managed to get another nice gold spot trev (~3 kg again) on the little waxwing. However, I could see garfish and other large bait occasionally jumping out of the water as the tide and runoff water spilled over the spit. Something told me there were bigger fish about, so I tied a Nomad Madscad 114 on the 50 lb gear.
A few casts after changing lures, it happened. A massive mackerel hit the lure at full pelt, launching a metre into the air and 10 m horizontally. I struck mid-air, but the fish was holding the stickbait by its head and missed the hooks entirely. Never mind - the applause from the Beach Bar peanut gallery was pretty gratifying anyway (fishing with an audience is fun!). A dozen casts later, another mackie monstered the lure and stripped 20 m of line in a split second before biting me off. Exhilarating while it lasted! Mick capped off the evening with a feisty barracuda, and we all went to dinner satisfied that we'd made the most of a "non-fishing" day. That night, we all ate monster crayfish - absolutely delicious! Just need to give the kitchen a day's notice so their mate can go catch them.
Day 4 started off looking fairly bleak. At 5 am, heavy rain and - more importantly - gusting winds threatened to cancel fishing for another day. Nevertheless, we decided to reconvene and reassess at breakfast. By 7:30, conditions looked unpleasant but fishable. As a result, we headed to some of the closer reefs east of Volivoli.
By the time we arrived at the reef, the current was pushing strongly, creating some great-looking pressure edges. We didn't see much bait on the surface, but the area certainly looked like a big fish spot. Ben opened the account with a nice bluefin on the PE1.5 outfit. When Mick cast into a deep channel that bisected the main reef line, a big fish obliged and obliterated his popper. Sadly, after peeling line on a blistering first run, the fish won its freedom as the hooks pulled. Further down the reef, we picked up a couple of cod (kawakawa) and red bass on the surface before Mick managed to boat a nice GT that completely swallowed his River2Sea Dumbell Pop. A couple more geets rounded out the morning.
As the tide slowed, we trolled over to an isolated reef before attempting to jig and livebait for dogtooth. The doggies, however, were not out to play. Instead, I got a scrappy GT on a pencil popper and half an XOS red bass on the PE1.5 outfit (I generously shared that one with a big bronze whaler).
As we began to run back towards Volivoli, the heavens darkened considerably. This didn't prevent us stopping at a reef and putting a few casts around its fringes, where fusies were holding. Both Habib and I came up tight to solid fish, only to pull the hooks. Just before the rain hit, Ben's popper was also hit hard, with a 20 kg+ Spanish mackerel getting about 3 seconds of airtime beside the boat. After a couple more missed hookups, we all bemoaned soft mackerel mouths. Although visibility was almost zero during the shower, we were fortunate enough to spot some finning humpback whales 150 m off the bow as soon as the rain stopped.
When the rain cleared, we continued to catch. Everyone boated a couple of bluefin or giant trevally, which were smashing baitfish around the bommies. But perhaps the catch of the day was one of our poppers, which had previously been snipped off Habib's line more than a kilometre away! All in all, not a bad day despite a rough start. We were even back at the resort in time to see the traditional meke.
Our final day saw us rising early and heading north to the reefs around Yadua. On the way, we hooked up to a yellowfin, which quickly spat the hooks. When we arrived at the reefs, the fish seemed to be on the prowl, with instant hookups all round. Unfortunately, we couldn't manage to keep the hooks in these fish - the only one we landed was a bronze whaler!
Eventually, a small move saw us working some reef lines with typically strong current pushing alongside. In these areas, my Fisherman Long Pen seemed to draw many more strikes than blooping poppers, and I boated a few GTs before the other guys could equalise. As the tide slowed and the glassout conditions threatened to return, we decided to try something different and drop a few baits.
As I'm averse to bait fishing, I used a shiny new micro jig. This turned out to be an excellent decision, as I was getting hit on every drop. I boated a wide array of species, including trout, cod, longnose emperor, jobfish, scad, queenfish, longtom... the list went on. I eventually lost the lure to what I'm sure was a mackerel. Meanwhile, the bait was producing, but not quite as frequently. One notable exception is the result of Nick dropping down a livebait: the biggest coral trout I've seen in the flesh. The thing looked mean as hell.
Considering the success of the micro jigging, we decided to do "one more drift" before leaving the area. On my first cast, my jig was eaten on the drop. A solid, slow-moving fish lumbered towards the reef before my hooks pulled. Again, on the next drop, same result. I pulled up the jig to check the hooks hadn't straightened (this had been a problem previously). Sure enough, they hadn't, and I figured I may have just been applying too much drag. Next drop, lighter drag... the hookup came quickly and I was convinced it was the same species of fish. I tried to go a little easier than before but still stop it from reaching the reef - no easy task! Fortunately, I was able to slowly work the fish towards the surface inch by inch.
Finally, I had deep colour. Nick thought it looked like a trout initially but I knew exactly what it was... a fish I'd been wanting to catch all my life... "It's a f***ing wrasse!" I squealed. And so, on PE1.5 and in 60 m of water, I managed to land a fish that had eluded me time and time again. Only a baby, but a wrasse nonetheless! For me, that was the perfect end to a really memorable trip.
