Flyfishing in the Seychelles by Gareth Webster

"Beware, you will be consumed wholly by this take for the rest of your life - when you kiss your partner, while you drive to work and with your last thought at night" Gareth Webster

I remember the first time I caught a trout on fly. I was eleven years old up in the mountains of the Queenstown district with a three-piece Snowbee glass "package set" rod in hand. It is still one of my fondest memories.

My brother introduced me to flyfishing and shared that special moment with me. His words are still clear in my mind, "strip your line, if you leave it to sink too long the crabs are going to eat it”. One strip and I was on.

Fast-forward some twenty-odd years and I received a message on Facebook asking if I’d be interested in doing an interview for a position in the Seychelles. The night before, while celebrating a decent Eland bull I harvested that afternoon, I still joked with my mates how the year had been an amazing one and the cherry on the top would be moving to the Seychelles to pursue a career in guiding.

That morning, freezing cold and hangover from a night out on the town in Molteno, I read the message. At first I figured it was a practical joke from the lads around the fire the night before and I had a chuckle and went back to sleep.

The Journey

Now don’t get me wrong, for most landing a job in the Seychelles is no easy feat and getting to this point had literally taken me years. From building up somewhat of a mediocre reputation in the competitive flyfishing scene to emailing anyone and everyone in the industry for just a foot in the door, to finally getting that offer of a lifetime is just the beginning. From GOP applications, blood tests, ensuring your skippers license and STCW are all up to date it can be quite a process. Then comes the tackle and gear.

Now I am in no means a tackle junkie, however I do like to be prepared. Thankfully I have a few people to rely on when asking advice and between them and google I like to think that I could not have been more prepared. It’s now eight months later and my life has been filled chock-a-block with some of the most amazing experiences possible - a lot of them being firsts for me.

The biggest change of them all is having to sacrifice fishing time. Yes of course, being a guide you spend plenty of time on the water and obviously have those rare days to go out and catch a few fish of your own, but being blessed enough to work here comes with sacrifice.

This is not by all means a bad thing as there is something quite fulfilling having a client land either their first permit or sailfish on fly, or an absolute nube hooking into a St Joseph’s bonefish a rod length away from them. The shrieks of laughter as the line peels off the SL6 and her fingers taking an absolute beating as I lunge over and tighten the drag makes it worth it.

Taking people to some of the most isolated and beautiful places on earth has certainly been a highlight for me. Being based on Desroches we are in very close proximity to two very special islands, Poivre, known for its hog Indio-Pacific permit and the idyllic St Joseph’s atoll. The look of absolute awe and anticipation on people’s faces for the day ahead as we turn into the channel between Darros and St Josephs is really what makes this “job” special.

Not too long before being asked to tell my story was I fortunate enough to guide a wellknown American attorney. Making contact with him over email to cross check tackle requirements before the time we got to know each other and it became apparent he had fished in some of my bucket list destinations. He was a regular at Alphonse and Cosmo, along with some other well-known destinations back home on African soil.

It was his sixtieth birthday and, after completing a short trip for Tigers in Africa, he wanted to treat himself to some fishing in Seychelles and hopefully connect with his first Indio-Pacific permit on fly, something that had eluded him over the years.

The pressure was on!

He booked with us for five days on the water and we set off with high expectations.

The plan was to fish both St Josephs and Poivre for two days each and then accordingly decide on what to do the final day.

As with many days when fishing, things didn’t go to plan. For some unknown reason the flats were just not cooperating with us. On the third day I was beginning to feel the pinch when my guest, absolutely soaked from a resent squall, calmly said to me, “I’ve never caught a sailfish on fly, what are the chances we get out of the rain and give that a bash?”.

It was music to my ears! The sea looked amazing with birds working in the distance and, if anything, I knew we would be connecting to something from the deep.

I set up the teasers, gave the skipper some instruction and off we headed. Not long into things we had some action behind the boat. It wasn’t a sail or anything significant, but a fly was presented and a decent Job fish was landed - a new species on fly for Tom. Things continued this way and after landing a few bonito in a bait ball we decided to call it a day and decided that we would focus on pelagic species for the final two days.

Desroches too is a special place. It has blessed me with my first ever permit on fly but can be a frustrating place at times to fish on the flats, however where it really does show off is in the deep water. Located thirty-six or so kilometres east of the Amirantes Bank and separated by water of over a thousand metres in depth this atoll is surrounded by the most insane drop-off which, in turn, results in a bountiful mix of pelagic species. My favourite of these is the sailfish.

With teasers rigged and a fly rod stripped and waiting in Toms hands we reached the drop-off just east of Shark Rocks. I sent them out and we waited not ten minutes for the first sign of movement behind the boat.

When she showed I brought her in nice and close and we made the switch. The fish turned on the fly, I gave the instruction for Tom to set and the reel started to scream!

Sail on… It was perfect, not a long fight but the fish swam off into the blue to fight another day. This was another two firsts that day for Tom, wahoo and of course a sailfish, both on fly.

The final day we raised a further eight sailfish, with three being our biggest group, but as is the nature of billed fish on fly none of the hooks set that day. Tom asked if the boat was available the next morning as he was only flying out that afternoon. With a quick radio call to base a short four hour trip was on the cards for the following morning - and what a four hours they would prove to be.

Things were looking very fishy as we rounded North Point that morning. Reaching the drop I let the teasers fly. A hour went by before we headed a little deeper as things were suspiciously quiet and things turned in our favour. Two bills showed behind the boat and I brought them in. These fish unfortunately weren’t interested and after a couple minutes we decided to move on. I sent the teaser out again and again I saw a black shadow and bill come out the water. Thinking it was the same fish I thought we would give it one last try but on bringing the teaser in the fish sunk down a little deeper. Tom flicked the fly out and the fish ate with a vengeance, turned and the reel started to sing.

What I initially thought was a monstrous sailfish turned out to be a marlin. It revealed itself to us with a jump far off the port side of the boat, with backing still running out at the stern. The fight didn’t last long after that and ended with utter silence onboard.

Such is the nature of deep-water fly fishing on Desroches.