Like many Aussies, I love holidaying in Fiji. Growing up in a family of travel agents, I've been fortunate to visit this beautiful part of the world more times than I can remember. There's probably a good reason why I can't distinctly recall all of my trips (and no - it's not kava or Bounty Rum).. anyone familiar with 'Fiji time' will understand that after a while, the long, sunny days blend into one continuous montage of white sand, azure waters and smiling faces. If - like me - you're obsessed with marine life, you spend hours lost in a coralline maze. Inevitably, the calming notes of 'Isa Lei' wake you from this dream and signal your return to reality. Leaving a little part of yourself with your new Fijian family, you vow to come back someday.
Despite the predictable pleasantness of the Fijian holiday experience, I had encountered many more fish when snorkelling rather than angling
. When travelling with my family, we rarely ventured further from Nadi than the Coral Coast or the Mamanucas. Unfortunately, even full-day fishing charters in these regions can be hit-and-miss. So it was with great interest that I read Brandon's report from a place called Volivoli Beach Resort on the northernmost tip of Viti Levu. Hearing it had "enormous potential" as a family-friendly fishing destination convinced me that it was time to revisit Fiji with my mum, dad and sister.
You need only browse Google Earth to get excited about the reefs surrounding Volivoli. In the last few weeks leading up to my trip, I printed and laminated screenshots to create maps. I had booked my trip to coincide with the full moon, so I marked features that would likely hold bait in strong current. I also got my reels serviced by Shimano (only 10 min away from my home!), and came to terms with the unexpected and unexplainable death of my Saragosa 14000F. A strange line lay issue simply couldn't be resolved despite the technicians replacing practically every part on the reel! Fortunately, Shimano were more than happy to replace it with a brand new Saragosa 20000 SW
.
Thus, the final lineup for my gear was:
- Carpenter Monster Hunter 80H / Shimano Stella SW 18000 HG
- Shimano GT Special / Shimano Saragosa SW 20000
- Tairyo Nano GX 762MH / Shimano Sustain 5000 FG
In the end, I only really used the Monster Hunter outfit, spooled with 100lb YGK WX8 braid. Whilst it did cast well, this (rather expensive) line lost colour and appeared to start fraying cosmetically towards the end of the trip
. I packed a variety of poppers and stickbaits from 100-170 g, but primarily used pencil poppers (specifically, Fisherman Long Pen 100s) and caught all my fish on these. Those of you familiar with Fisherman lures will no doubt be aware that the paintwork can be a little.. shall we say.. 'fragile'
. On this trip, I managed to completely delaminate a lure in just eight hours' casting!
After checking that all my gear had survived the flight from Sydney to Nadi, it was time for a three-hour drive from the airport to Volivoli. By the side of the highway, I noticed local fishermen selling their day's catch, which didn't help to ease my excitement. When we rounded the final corner and descended the hillside above the resort, I practically jumped out of the car and ran to reception. Ahead of me, the last rays of sunset reflected off a calm ocean. We had arrived in paradise
. This impression didn't change once we saw our rooms, which were spacious, comfortable and well appointed. Plus, each had a great view. I couldn't help but subconsciously compare the rooms to those on liveaboard charters and feel very spoilt
.
In the same way, when we later visited the poolside restaurant, the small pleasures of resort accommodation felt like luxuries. We were on a family holiday, and yet I was simultaneously on a luxurious fishing trip. It was a bizarre feeling! We soon met Vulo, our wonderful server for the evening, and Nick Darling, who manages the resort and coordinates the fishing trips. Nick was the consummate host. That first night, we chatted for hours, formulating our plan of attack for the morning. Because - for my first time ever - I had stumbled upon a perfect weather window, we decided to run out to a remote reef system that might be more difficult to access on a windy day. The plan was to meet back at the restaurant for a 6:15 am breakfast.
By 6:45 am, we were aboard Half Cast, a 30 ft centre console. On this first day, I was joined by my mum, who doesn't cast poppers, so I had the massive casting platform all to myself
. The crew was completed by Nick and Sami, a trainee deckie. As we set off on a glassy ocean, we encountered baitfish no more than 50 m from the beach
. This was going to be a good day.
After an hour-long steam, we reached the first reef about two hours into a big runout tide. The current was racing and schools of fusiliers shimmered on the surface. It took only a few casts before my first hookup. Through the gin-clear glassy water, I watched a switched-on GT materialise ten metres behind my lure, which it promptly ate. Though there wasn't much size to him, this black fish was particularly handsome and put up a great fight. He set the tone for an awesome morning.
Throughout the day, we encountered many bold and hungry fish, some of which followed lures right to the side of the boat. I mean this quite literally - one GT decided to chomp down on my lure less than a metre from my feet, nearly grazing its head on the keel! Another struck less than a rod length from the bow, screaming off towards the stern and almost yanking me down from the casting platform in the process!
Some truly spectacular bites, many of which resulted from pack attacks.
The fishing slowed down around lunchtime as the current waned, but picked up again as the run-in commenced. As the afternoon progressed, I had a couple of encounters with XOS (~20 kg+) flying mackerel. Sadly, it's mighty difficult to set the hook when your target is 6ft in the air! I also watched a massive green fish - which I can only assume was a Napoleon wrasse - dart out of a deep crack in the reef and seemingly attempt to drown my lure by pushing a massive bow wave. One of the most heart-stopping moments I've experienced, which had both Nick and I asking "what the hell was that?". I had a similarly adrenaline-pumping moment when I spotted a GT 'finning' atop a reef
. Never before had I encountered the opportunity to sight-cast a giant trevally, and I could scarcely believe my eyes until the fish darted forward and side-swiped my lure! Of course, it went ballistic in shallow water, slapping its tail on the surface and promptly shedding the hook
.
Despite all the near misses, eight GTs were boated on the first day. Heading home on a millpond still ocean, we were escorted by a pod of bottle nosed dolphins, including one huge and very inquisitive bull that rode the pressure wave just below the keel. A truly awesome sight. As we travelled, Nick and I discussed our options for the morning. Unfortunately, Half Cast would be out of commission due to a steering issue that arose earlier (I have a bad habit of cursing boats with hydraulic steering).
At 8:15 am, Nick was at my door with good news. Apparently, Half Cast needed a new hydraulic ram, which was being sent up from Suva as we spoke. The boat would be back in action by 2:30 pm. At this point, a normal operator might suggest we reconvene later that afternoon. Nick is not a normal operator. He recommended we head out in one of the smaller wooden boats and target GTs on the local reefs. The weather was perfect (again!), so I jumped at the chance. The small boat proved to be a very comfortable casting platform, and I managed to land a bluefin trevally and a GT that morning. Compared to the previous day, this result was nothing to write home about, but I couldn't help smiling when I compared it to all my fishless charters from other Fijian holidays
.
It wasn't hard to smile in Nick's company. We were having such a good time on the little boat that he offered to stay out for the remainder of the day. Though I was tempted, I wanted to get dad out on Half Cast. As we returned to the resort for a delicious lunch, the wind began to blow from from the northwest. By 2:30, I was glad I opted for the bigger boat - the sea was decidedly less inviting than it was earlier.
The game plan was to head for an area where other Volivoli guests had nailed a couple of wahoo the day before. Dad - like mum - is not a popping enthusiast, so trolling was to be the order of the day. However, as we were travelling through the Malake passage, I couldn't resist stopping for a few casts
. My third cast landed in a channel between the main reef and a deep bommie. It was one of those marginal positions where you equally do and don't want to hook up. After a few turns of the handle, there was a huge boil behind my pencil popper, which I stopped in its tracks. It's funny how time seems to slow down in that split second before a strike. I watched a fish attack the lure side-on, its massive chrome flank throwing a metre-long flash in the afternoon sun. This was the biggest GT I'd seen this trip, and I barely needed to strike as it inhaled my brand new Long Pen. The gee dove around the back of the bommie and Nick gave chase immediately, whilst I did my best to keep its head up. Reaching the deep back corner, we were apparently out of the woods. Then, as we tried to pull the fish away from the reef, the line suddenly slackened. I was too surprised to swear. I got smoked
.
Humiliated, my attention returned to dad's quest for his own fish. By this point, the wind was blowing around 25 knots, which made casting difficult in any case. Trolling a spread of skipping garfish, we encountered a few patches of mackerel, resulting in at least one triple hook-up. Dad got himself a mackie, with which he was pretty pleased. Insisting I get on strike next, he sat back, contented. Soon enough, I was on to a little walu of my own. As Nick went to clear another line, he hooked up too. Dad then started to wind in the third bait, when his line came up tight. Then slack
. Just when I thought about swapping rods with him, the water behind the boat erupted. A massive fish shimmied through the air, flashing gold and purple in the sunset. "Sailfish!" Nick and I yelled in unison, as that characteristic dorsal fin undulated across our field of view, just five metres from the stern. At this moment, we all realised why dad's line had gone slack - the fastest fish in the ocean was running at him!
I skull-dragged my mackerel towards the gaff, whilst passing on a few words of wisdom to my father, the gamefishing novice (more accurately, I screamed "WIND! WIND! WIND!" and resisted the urge to take over). Despite coming to terms with how to use an overhead reel only an hour before, my dad managed to play the fish for twenty minutes before Nick brought it through the fish door. To say dad was elated and I was proud would be an understatement - after some whooping and high-fiving, we posed for a quick photo before I swam, revived and released the fish. When dad saw his first ever billfish swim off, he remarked that his smile will last a week
. As I type this, he's still decidedly chipper, and it's been a fortnight since.
Returning to the resort after dark, we only just made it to dinner in time, and I was up til 1 am cleaning the salt spray off my gear. To allow time for refuelling the boat, we decided on an 8:15 am breakfast the next day.
Mum was aboard for the third day's fishing, and it was finally time for her to catch a fish. Trolling near the sailfish spot, we were soon on to a barracuda - perfect practice for her, and the perfect dinner for our deckie of the day, Solo. Mum was a really quick study, and soon perfected her pump-and-wind technique for fighting something bigger. We didn't need to wait long before encountering something large, as a wahoo launched itself on the short corner (sadly, it landed on top of the skirt and missed the hooks). After a few more missed strikes, the reel closest to me screamed for mercy. I immediately offered the rod to mum, but she suddenly seemed reluctant, and refused. I took the reins as the fish went ballistic, taking a blistering first run, as wahoo do! Turned out to be a nice fish of ~22 kg. Sadly, it proved impossible to relocate the school for mum's strike, so we decided to return to popping as the current picked up.
Despite strong water movement, the reef system didn't seem to hold much bait and, hence, GTs. I only pinned a couple that morning. Not long after lunch, we located a boat of local commercial fishermen who were out on a four-day trip - not only did this give us a chance to pick up some more ice for the wahoo, but also to have a chat about the fishing in the area. The guys said they hadn't seen any GTs, but only 200 m away, we came across a nice patch of broken reef that was stacked with bait. This looked promising.
Approaching a bommie, I asked Nick to have a cast with me, so he suggested we fire one out simultaneously. As soon as our poppers hit the water, there were fish on both! As I came up tight and began fighting mine - which was followed by at least one other, bigger, trevally - I watched several fish hit Nick's cubera... how they managed to miss both sets of trebles, I'll never know! We continued to work this area with predictable results - plenty of pack attacks, creating a whole lot of fun and pandemonium! Although solid hook-ups were hard to come by, we both pulled a couple of fish from the fray before they wisened up. I'll never forget the strikes at this spot - truly one of the hottest bites I've ever encountered. Wish the GoPro was on at the time!
After the bite on the broken reef slowed, I fired a cast towards the main reef line. Before I could gather the slack line, my lure was engulfed in whitewater. Winding like a madman, I soon came up tight on what appeared to be a big fish. Dragging it into deeper water with the boat, I set about trying to gain line. It didn't work. After five minutes of back-breaking stalemate, an average-sized GT eventually surfaced with my lure's belly hook (Baker-rigged 11/0 SJ-41s) firmly anchored in its side... a little disappointing, considering how much hurt this fish dished out!
This was a very poignant and painful reminder of the need to be physically fit when targeting GTs. For previous trips, I'd trained six days a week for at least three months; this time, I realised why! A humbling experience.
All up, Day 3 produced seven GTs, plus a couple of bluefin trevally, barracuda and longtoms. Arriving back at the resort around 5 pm, we had plenty of time to reluctantly prepare for our last supper at Volivoli. We spent the evening with Nick, reviewing our footage and photos, and swapping stories until the bar closed.
Day 4 was to be a half-day, as we were being transferred to another resort that afternoon. Both mum and dad joined me this time. The aim was to get mum a wahoo. Mum's practice on the barracuda certainly paid off, and she angled her fish with ease.. until it saw Half Cast and stripped a hundred metres of line! After a couple of tense moments beside the boat, Nick and Solo secured my mother's biggest fish ever! Mission accomplished!
Overall, we had a fantastic time at Volivoli Beach Resort. The accommodation and meals were top-notch, as was the fishing! Even my sister - who didn't get out on the boat at all - loved the place. Nick went above and beyond to ensure we were having fun. I'm already saving up (and training!) for my next trip to Volivoli.
Hope this report is of some use - it's my very first on GTPopping, so excuse my rambling. I've learnt so much from the knowledgeable and generous members of this forum, so thank you all! If you'd like to read Nick's (much shorter) fishing report, check out the Volivoli Beach Resort website (under the 'news' tab) or the Half Cast Charters Facebook page.
