"GOING THE EXTRA MILE", published in Farlows Magazine

May 2002



Exotic fly - fishing venues tend to fall into two categories: those that are described as "ideal for non-fishing partners" - a pampering five star resort with cocktails on tap in the Bahamas or Seychelles, say), and those that are not (the endless tundra & limited nightlife of the Kola peninsula springs instantly to mind.)

Well, very close to the top of the NOT suitable list would have to be Weipa, in Northern Queensland, Australia. The Lonely Planet guide says of the town: "Weipa is a modern
Mining town which works the world's largest deposits of bauxite…It offers an interesting glimpse of what life is like in a remote mining community." Does that appeal to your non-fishing partner?
Don't forget to mention the 24,000 mile round trip, by the way…

Despite this, if you are genuinely bitten by the fly-fishing bug, then you simply have to go there. Do whatever you have to do…take the family to Tuscany or Mauritius or wherever they demand to go, take an expensive trip down to Hatton Garden… one way or another you are probably going to have to throw money at the problem, but you simply have to persuade your spouse to let you go.

Here's why:

You have to go because you will catch a kaleidoscopic array of the craziest, wildest fish you can imagine, fish that pull at least as hard, pound for pound, as anything you are ever likely to encounter.

You have to go because you will see Manta Rays the size of grand pianos come gracefully gliding along the flats in barely three feet of water…

You have to go because you will sight-cast to long-tail tuna that will rip off 300 yards of backing in the proverbial blink of an eye…

You have to go because you will catch Giant Herring that make bonefish look profoundly pedestrian by comparison. The Australians don't have bonefish, by the way, but what they do have is Golden Trevally. These fish come up onto the flats to feed & you can sight-fish for them, just like you would for bonefish. The only real difference is that they fight for much longer than bonefish..oh yeah, and they go up to well over 30 pounds. Oh, and if you meet an American who starts gassing about how difficult these beautiful fish are to catch, tell him to shut up and to get on down to Weipa - I had thirteen up to 22 pounds one day & should have had more.

Not only is there a bewildering array of species to be caught, there are also countless ways to catch them. We used every line density imaginable - full floaters, sink tips, clear intermediates & some really monstrous fast-sinkers. I'm not normally a fan of fast -sinking lines, but I think that's mainly to do with the fact that it lacks the visual element…not here. Once you've safely dispatched your Teeny 750 into the wide blue yonder, there's a fantastic sense of anticipation in peering down into the deep clear water, waiting to see whether your ridiculously large fly will be followed up by a ridiculously large fish. My mate, Mark Telwright, and I had an absolute ball one afternoon, watching a procession of different types of Trevally slowly resolve from vague grey shadows into beautiful iridescent forms, hell-bent on nailing our flies. Another afternoon,Mark had a rather nasty shock when tussling with a trevally of around 20lb…a Giant Grouper of around 600lb casually sauntered up & snaffled the whole thing. I'd love to tell you that after a titanic struggle etc…but in truth the ensuing scrap was profoundly one-sided & predictably short.

One method that really is sensationally exhilarating is popper fishing. For the uninitiated, poppers are big flat-fronted foam - bodied flies that push water, make a lot of commotion & generally say "I'm in trouble - come and eat me!!!" It's a bit like fishing a greased muddler minnow on a grand scale & I reckon it's about as exciting as fly-fishing gets. The sight of a gleaming, silvery squadron of big, rabid Queenfish coming barrelling up from nowhere to investigate your surface-waking fly is infused with the quintessential anticipatory excitement that is at the heart of why we go fishing.
Stop stripping the fly and, as often as not, the leader of the pack will erupt on the static fly & set off on a series of almost impossibly high, cartwheeling leaps that will leave you genuinely astonished.

We experienced one afternoon when every cast would have a gang of crazed trevally and queenies fighting each other to grab the fly. At one point, I looked up to see every one of us bent into one of these big, bruising fish.

Another afternoon, I hooked thirteen big, big Queenfish, and had to watch helplessly as bronze whale sharks, some as big as the boat, slashed every one to ribbons, leaving me to reel in the forlorn looking head. Our guide, Russel, reckons that when the sharks come out to play, you've got three minutes to wrestle your trophy queenie into the boat - no easy task when you are dealing with a fifteen to twenty pound fish that spends more time out of the water than in it.
Personally, I reckon that thirty seconds is a more realistic estimate. You normally know that trouble is afoot when your queenfish jumps higher than usual, in a frantic bid to escape its pursuers. Its next jump will often be minus its tail, and the thrashing, seething frenzy that ensues when the poor, doomed creature hits the water for the last time is not for the faint-hearted. Make a point of not falling in.

I could ramble on about the wonderful creek fishing for the hilariously aggressive barramundi and the beautiful, primeval-looking saratoga. Or about wandering along the deserted golden beeches, sight-casting to baby tarpon, threadfin salmon and pretty much anything that moves - there's such a wealth and diversity of really fabulous fly-fishing here that a short article, and, for that matter, a two week trip, can only really scratch the surface.

As I sat in the bar one evening, sucking on an ice-cold beer and devouring the delicious sashimi, made with tuna that we'd caught only three hours earlier, I got to swapping fishing stories. I was lucky to be with a great group & between us we'd travelled to a lot of the world's wilder fly-fishing destinations. We talked about the merits of Russia, of Cuba and of all kinds of other crazy places, but we were universally agreed that for variety and for sheer wild kicks with a fly rod, Weipa stood out by a country mile. We're all going back this year, by the way…

One of our merry band was Brian Fratel. When we shared a boat, I found fishing with him an educational, at times mildly humiliating and above all a hugely enjoyable experience. If you do go to Weipa, speak to Brian about kit. Weipa is about a million miles from anywhere, and it doesn't have a tackle emporium packed full of your favourite piscatorial sundries. Also, the fish on its doorstep are savage and they don't care how much you spent on your kit - they'll snap your rods & sheer off your fly lines, they'll chomp off your flies and seize up your reels. For the record, I used 8 up to 12 weight rods and was considered a bit of a light tackle freak - my chum, Mark Telwright, for instance, at one point took to employing a seventeen weight !!! By far the most important item of kit is a really serious reel. Tibors or Abels are well worth the investment, and Brian is not pulling your leg when he suggests that you load them with what seems an absurd amount of Gel spun backing - 350 yards and up. The tuna will sizzle off most of this in no time, so don't say that you haven't been warned…

Similarly, don't laugh when Brian produces flies the size of a young turkey or leader material as thick as your fingers. You'll want all this, and you'll want lighter fluorocarbon leaders & subtle little baitfish imitations like surf candies too.

For the record, we travelled with Roxton Bailey Robinson and they were fantastic - they hooked us up with Peter Morse and Alan "Fish" Philiskirk, and as well as being brilliant, hard-working guides, these guys are great company and sensationally talented fly-fishermen. Roxtons can organize your long haul & internal flights by the way, and I'm sure they'll also organize a guided tour of the local bauxite mine - for your non-fishing partner, naturally…

Contacts:

Rory Pilkington
Roxton Bailey Robinson
25, High St.,
Hungerford
Berkshire RG17 0NF
01488 683 222

Brian Fratel
Farlows
5 Pall Mall, London
SW1Y 5NP
Telephone: 020 7839 2423

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