14 minute read
Maldives: Poor Man's GT on the Fly Rod
Welcome to the poor man’s world of GT on the fly. One January morning, somewhere in the northern part of the Maldives, that’s where the following took place…
By: THOMAS SØBIRK Photos by: THOMAS SØBIRK, ANDREAS RASMUSSEN, PETER LYNGBY & JOHAN BJERG/LUCAS MSISKA and FIN FOLLOWERS
Fly fishing for giant trevally is more popular – and more hyped – than ever before. The driving force behind this development has been the incredible fishing around some of the outer atolls of the Seychelles like Farquhar, Astove, and not least Cosmoledo – places that now rank at the very top of most GT fly fisher’s bucket lists. Relatively few of them go there, however. The reason is simple: Price. The weekly rate for fishing the three mentioned islands run from well over $10,000 to more than $15,000 - for six days of fishing. Flights to Mahe, conservation donations and gratuities not included, of course. That’s not for everyone! So, when you have GT on your mind – but your fishing budget doesn’t quite match the price tag mentioned above – you need to look elsewhere: Christmas Island? Sudan? Or how about the Maldives?
The tide isn’t moving yet so you aren’t expecting shots at the big game. Instead, you decide on walking the reef with your nine weight in hand – twelve weight tucked away for now – looking for lightning-blue shapes moving in and out of the wash from the surf breaking over the shallow reef.
A quick cast followed by a fast retrieve is what it takes. Any bluefin trevally getting sight of your little crab in the turbulent water equals a wholehearted attack, with all guards down, until it finally connects with your fly, the line comes tight, and you’re on for some action. After two days of catching nothing, the action is welcome. You’ve hooked fish, yes – but caught any? No. Not so far. The big game here doesn’t come easy.
So, you amuse yourself with the bluefins. A trigger tails. Its big yellow and orange tail waves you closer with its irresistible “come and get me if you can” attitude. You can’t, of course! Before you are even within casting range, a wave washes over the shallow reef, and the trigger disappears with the water pulling back to sea. Never mind, the bluefins are still around, and soon after you hook another one. The third this morning.
It’s splendid sport on light gear, and you would have enjoyed it even more if that voice in the back of your head would, just for a moment, stop reminding you what you are really here for: Big game. B-I-G game. Caranx Ignobilis. AKA Giant Trevally. GT amongst friends.
Judging from yesterday’s tide, there is still at least another hour until the water starts to drop. Not that you need less water on the reef but you just need the water to move. The moving water will off-balance the baitfish a bit, making them vulnerable. Furthermore, it will make the surf break harder creating better hunting opportunities. All in all, it might just give you another shot at the big game you are really here for.
For now, the gentle surf is still creating ideal conditions for green parrotfish and luminescent bluefins to swim the shallow parts of the reef. The first ignore your fly, the latter hammer it, so you decide to walk back and fish the most productive part once more.
There is still time. You are allowed to have some fun.
You’re at six hooked bluefins – four landed, two lost – and on the last bit of shallow reef, having a great time. You tell yourself that you could do this all day long. Then it happens, and from that very instant, you couldn’t care less about bluefins, triggers, parrotfish, or whatever the surf washes in: Out of the corner of your eye, you see something moving in the surf – you turn your head, and you find yourself staring at a big GT swimming in the wave of the breaking surf, as clearly on display as new arrivals in a shop window.
Approximately 193 seconds later, you find yourself positioned on a piece of rock, ten meters from the breaking surf. Nine weight tucked away, twelve weight in hand, flyline hanging in coils in the stripping basket, sunglasses with annoying saltwater drops on the lenses and soaked up to your chest from making it onto the rock. Not that you care. Getting a shot at big game is what is on your mind. Nothing else.
It’s almost too good to be true but ten, maybe twelve, minutes later a big GT cruises along the reef, in the surf, coming your way, and less than fifteen meters out. The “almost” in the “too good to be true” part is the head-on wind, meaning the only option is a back cast. You’re telling yourself not to screw this up but most likely it is more down to luck rather than your casting arm actually listening to the commands, that the fly lands – if not in the perfect spot, then at least in an, under the circumstances, perfectly acceptable spot. You strip at least once, probably twice and possibly three times but surely no more than that. Then the GT is on the fly, engulfs it with half of its head out of the water, and the black baitfish pattern, tied on a strong 5/0 hook, completely disappears into a bucket-sized mouth.
To say that “you’re on” would be an understatement. When you set the hook, the GT heads for the surf, and in seconds the line is on the reel. That’s when “big angry GT” meets “heavy saltwater reel with almost closed drag” - so something has to give. It’s not the fish, neither the reel. The only thing left in that equation is you. You’re not sure exactly what happens but it happens fast!
You’re pulled off the rock, fall over, head under water, cap goes afloat, rod at the end of stretched arm pointing directly at big angry GT headed off to sea. It’s a mess, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Adrenaline ad libitum!
Eight or nine minutes later, you’re finally winning the battle. The flyline is back on the reel, probably more than half of it by now, and you are starting to think about how and where to land your price.
And then, there is that inevitable craggy rock snagging the line, the GT is a Free T and your flyline is ten feet shorter than it was a second ago.
The fight is over, the GT won, you lost: The fish, that is. Not the memory. As you make you way to dry land, bleeding lightly from the bruises on your legs, you feel more alive than you have done in a long time. Twenty minutes later, you are back on the rock. This time, you didn’t even notice the deeper water or the drops on the sunglasses on the way out.
TALKING TO ANDREAS:
We sat down with Andreas Rasmussen, who helped us crack the code on fly fishing in the Maldives. Here, Andreas shares some of his thoughts on his big passion: Fly fishing for GTs in the Maldives:
I had heard about several unsuccessful attempts at fly fishing for GTs in the Maldives – but one day one of my colleagues in the shop came back with a different story. He had done his research, had hired a local boat driver – and after a few days, while anchored on the reef for lunch, a big GT swam by. This inspired them to look elsewhere and he ended up hooking several fish.
That was all the encouragement I needed. I immediately planned a trip with a friend, we followed tide charts, read everything we could find and had tremendous success – way more than we had hoped for, or possibly deserved. We caught 14 GTs, many smaller fish but also several really nice ones. My second trip was also a success. This time, we fished a different atoll, but with the knowledge we had earned on our first trip and lots of research on Google Maps we were able to point out new potential spots. It wasn’t great fishing right from the start but at the end of the week we ran into some crazy GT action. Five of us landed 23 GTs. The number of fish that came onto the flats and reefs the last couple of days was crazy. I guess we just had perfect tides – well perfect everything, and a good amount of luck thrown in as well.
What really fascinates me about GT is their total commitment to killing that fly! On my last trip, captain Mohamed said is so well when we had a fish just hammering the fly: “It’s not hungry, it’s angry!” That’s exactly what they are.
We don’t target other species when we’re carrying the heavy guns. But we do catch them when opportunities present themselves. We have landed barracuda, shark, bluefin trevally, snapper and grouper on GT tackle – and had a couple of shots at huge napoleons. When I was approached by Getaway Fly Fishing, it soon became clear to me that we shared the same ideas about an ideal setup for fly fishing the Maldives.
Even if we had been successful using smaller boats to reach the spots, I was already painfully aware that it wouldn’t take much wind to ground us on the island, or at least out of reach of many of the best spots. On the other hand, a mothership would slow down everything and limit the number of spots you can fish in a day, and during a week.
Getaway’s background and their ideas of setting up for fly fishing, carrying a dinghy on the front deck of the speed boat, matched my own ideas of the ideal approach. What also weighed in heavily was their plan to explore several different areas thereby limiting the fishing pressure in each area. Even if we had enjoyed success on my first trips, I was very aware that these spots were too easy to access for too many anglers. The good fishing wouldn’t continue forever if the same relatively few spots would get hammered week after week.
I believe that the best approach to fly fishing the Maldives is fishing as many different areas as possible and over time accumulate knowledge about each particular spot, but also a growing understanding of how the fishing is affected by winds and tides. That will enable us to achieve better results without harming the fishery.
It’s hard to predict the future of a fishery but I’m pretty optimistic about the Maldives. Mainly for two different reasons: There is still a lot of unfished water to explore and it is not too easy to achieve success. Let me explain why I view the latter as an advantage:
If it was easy to fly down to the Maldives and land your big GT on the fly, it would soon become the most popular saltwater fishery in the northern hemisphere. It’s relatively easy to get there, and nothing is more mind-blowing than hooking a GT on a fly rod. This would lead to the Maldives being “overloved”, overrun, and overfished. But, “luckily”, it’s not so easy. Even though we have had some great trips, averaging one or two landed GTs per fly fishermen in a week is a really good result. Maybe you might hook twice as many, and have shots at many more – but to actually land that fish, everything has to go your way.
So, during a decent week six anglers might land 10 GTs. That’s not a lot of fishing pressure. It’s what four anglers will land during a good day of popping from a boat. And that’s another great thing about fly fishing: That you need a much lower number of landed GTs to make it a great week, thus putting less pressure on the natural resources.
Fighting, waves, wind and sun for eight or nine hours a day, six to eight days in a row, to catch one or two of the fish you are really after – well, that’s not enough for everyone.
And that’s the advantage: that those of us more than willing to take on the challenge won’t have to share the water with too many others. That fact, in my opinion, gives me an optimistic view of the future of fly fishing in the Maldives.
To succeed with GT on the fly, you need skills and determination – but more than anything, you need luck on your side. I recently came back from a hosted week. A few days into the trip – we’re fishing a long reef in three pairs of two, and experienced guest, Jacob, is fishing with his friend Fredrik. A really big GT suddenly approaches them, on Jacob’s side. It’s swimming pretty fast so he only gets one shot. He makes the shot, placing the fly at just the right distance from the incoming monster GT, lets the fly sink a little, and then starts stripping fast.
The fish spots the fly, accelerates, inhales it, turns around – and disappears. When he pulls in his fly, it’s no longer the 27-28 cm it used to be. It’s more like 5! The GT had eaten all of the fly’s 12-13 flatwing feathers, just missing the hook. Jacob never felt a thing! After such an experience, many might have felt defeated. Instead, Jacob felt encouraged: “This is possible, we’re going to get one!”.
The following day, he came across another really big fish – one, that had some really advanced tricks up its fishy sleeves. Him and Fredrik had just been dropped off with the dinghy and they spread out a bit and started wading towards the reef. The shallowest part of the reef was maybe some 6-7 meters wide, the water was rising, and there a nice current was pushing across the reef. When Jacob was 20 meters from the reef, he notices not only a small patch of sandy bottom, but a big GT sitting there, just waiting for vulnerable baitfish to be washed in with the heavy current.
The big fish was holding in around 80 cm of water, sometimes breaking the surface and exposing a good part of its broad back. With trembling knees, Jacob made the cast. He placed the fly five meters in front of the fish, made two strips – and then the show began:
Within seconds, the fish had grabbed the fly, turned with it, accelerated to maximum speed and continued straight towards Jacob! It completely overtook the fly line, shot right past Jacob’s legs, pulling the fly line behind it. It then made a narrow turn around him, splashed water all over him in the process and headed back towards the reef. And with no hook-set being possible, as there was never the slightest contact with the fish, dropped out…
When he told us the story, he must have had the biggest smile in all of the Maldives. “If I had caught it, that would have been great. The picture would be on the wall at home, and I would try to catch the next great fish. But this performance – from a fish – I will never, ever forget it”.
Jacob did land three GTs during his trip but he lost the two biggest ones. He has already signed up for a rematch.
More information about fly fishing in the Maldives:
