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Fishing amongst the Skinks
- By Randall Bryett
- Published 07/8/2003
- Trip Reports
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Randall Bryett
Randall Bryett is a keen fisherman whom has tackled everything from bass to marlin on all types of tackle. His passion is saltwater flyfishing and he focuses on living the fishermans dream. When not traveling Randall who is Australian, resides in Northern California with his wife Kate and their two adopted cats.
With several writers and hangers on now touting Cape York Seafaris as their BIG discovery and trying to "lead trips". We thought it may be time to revisit our article about our trip in August 1998 on the old Capricorn Mist with Ed Rice and our mate Steve Starling whom was already a 9 year veteran and supporter of this trip. It is five years since that first trip and we have introduced a lot of people to Australia during that period...including most of the pretenders..GRIN
We fished three different river systems, casting Clousers to small tarpon, barramundi, mangrove jack and various bream in snags. We also tossed big sinking flies into berley (chum) trails over reefs for king mackerel, tuna, fingermark and re emperors (one of Australia's best-eating fish). And we walked and spits and beaches searching for golden trevally, ladyfish and barracuda. But the most incredible fishing of all came on our last day.
After a two & a half-hour flight over the Great Barrier Reef, the chartered Aero Commander from Reefwatch Avaiation settled down at Bamaga International Airport, best described as a medium-sized shed. This was our jumping-off point for eight days of fishing in the Gulf of Carpentaria
Greg Bethune of Carpentaria Seafaris was on hand to help us transfer our gear and drive us 12 miles to the tiny village of Seisia. Red dust from the dirt road covered every building, every car, every dog and even some of the people in Seisia (and if you go there, don't forget to have Greg show you the spear-proof jail).
At Seisia we boarded our mothership, the Capricorn Mist, a 40-foot Grand Banks-style ship which can accommodate six anglers. On this trip, however, there would be only four: Steve Starling, Australian angling superstar; Ed Rice, U.S. sports-show guru; my wife Kate; and me.
Departing from Seisia, we headed for the mouth of the Doughboy River to anchor for the night, pausing long enough for Ed and Steve to chase some longtail tuna in one of four skiffs towed behind the Capricorn Mist. At the mouth of the Doughboy we were greeted by large Queensland grouper (estuary cod) that took up residence under the vessel, using it as a convenient ambush site or waiting for handouts. These fish weigh anywhere from 300 to 500 pounds, and with several under the boat at a time, they become a form of entertainment in themselves.
One of these critters took to stalking our skiff as Kate and I cast along a rocky drop-off. While I was releasing a 5-pound mangrove jack, Kate saw the big fish coming and hollered "Shark!", as any well-trained American will do. I snapped the mangrove jack away from the grouper's enormous mouth just in the nick of time, and my heart was pounding as I casually mentioned to Kate that the big groupers appeared to be reasonably quick. We were to find them in most of the river systems where we anchored.
Greg calls his four towed skiffs "widow boats". He found them by canvassing neighborhoods for unused boats resting in the weeds behind houses. The owners were usually delighted to receive an offer for their surplus craft, and Greg hauled them away, stripped them down to the hull, and gave them new life as a fishing dinghy.
The "widow boats" averaged 15 feet. Each was equipped with casting and polling platforms and cleared of any obstacles to catch fly line. Powered by 25-horsepower engines, they were perfect for attacking the miles of flats, river systems, and offshore reefs we encountered during our eight-day charter.
One of the skiffs also doubled as Greg's camera boat. He fancies himself a Cecil B. DeMille type and really does make your trip look epic on video. With him doing the filming, you have more time to do nothing but fish, sleep, and eat. This is truly a fishing camp for big kids.
Speaking of eating, your three square meals a day aboard the Capricorn Mist are prepared (and usually caught) by Greg's wife, Jennie, and they are delightful. Mud crab night was especially memorable. Greg caught the "muddies" in the Skardon River, then cleaned, cracked and cooked them on deck in the largest wok I have ever seen. Mud crabs are a specialty second only to a local treat called Numus, similar to Ceviche but prepared with raw queenfish and served at the Sharp Bar (i.e., the ship's bow) with a cold stubbie (beer).
Crocodiles, sharks, stonefish, sea snakes and other wonderful "bities" abound in these waters, but most of the locals make it to puberty just by following
some simple rules - which anglers also should observe. First, you should believe in all situations that crocodiles are present and that even though you can't see them, they can see you. Second, do no swim or wade in the water.
But those rules shouldn't stop you from walking most beaches and sand flats, because these offer some of the most exciting sight fishing in the world. Greg showed us some of the best places and explained the Zen behind avoiding "skinks", his endearing little name for saltwater crocodiles. Don't obsess about these beautiful creatures; if anything, you should be thrilled to see them in their natural environment.
We encountered many different fishing situations in our eight-day adventure. By splitting up, sometimes with a guide or sometimes hunting our own spots, we also captured many different species. The real bread-and-butter quarry included barramundi, queenfish, golden trevally, longtail tuna, mackerel, giant herring (ladyfish), and even permit.
Ed and Steve put a lot of effort into stalking permit and Steve managed to hook a good one only to have the fish rub his crab imitation in the sand after a short fight. But his disappointment later turned to joy when he captured a massive giant herring, which is now a pending world record. With great speed, power, and a propensity for aerobatics, these fish are spectacular opponents reminiscent of tarpon. Greg reckons they're like bonefish on steroids.
The queenfish is another fantastic fighter. If you like the sight and sound of a fly line ripping through the water, you must try one of these. Kate caught an awesome specimen that slashed at her Deceiver several times before finally smashing it boatside while she stripped the fly full speed. The resulting boil of water made it look like someone had thrown in a large cinder block. She fought the "queenie" hard for 45 minutes.
Unlike most queenfish, which go ballistic with spectacular somersaults in an effort to throw the hook, this one never jumped. Instead, it burrowed down deep, giving Kate a painful reminder of her experience duking it out with a pair of giant trevally the day before - encounters she described as "having her butt kicked". But this time the fish slowly succumbed to constant pressure, looking like a large wobbling mirror as it reflected the sun's rays through the water, and we finally tailed it. It would have qualified as a woman's world record, but turned out to be foul-hooked as Kate had suspected, so she released it - something she would have done anyway, I think.
We fished three different river systems, casting Clousers to small tarpon, barramundi, mangrove jack and various bream in snags. We also tossed big sinking flies into berley (chum) trails over reefs for king mackerel, tuna, fingermark and re emperors (one of Australia's best-eating fish). And we walked and spits and beaches searching for golden trevally, ladyfish and barracuda. But the most incredible fishing of all came on our last day.
That morning, as I was on my way to brush the rum out of my teeth, I looked out and saw acres of baitfish being ravaged by predators. Large numbers of birds hovered over slashing tuna and mackerel working vast bait schools as gar as we could see. We even glimpsed a large whaler shark charging through a school of baitfish along our bow, gorging on the tightly packed prey
Breakfast was a hurried affair as we scrambled to make the most of our dwindling time. The fishing that followed was fast and furious. Ed and Steve zoomed off toward a patch of birds about a half a mile away and we soon saw both of them fighting fish. We found our own little patch of erupting water and Kate cast, stripped the fly once, and bingo! The rod bucked over and line screamed off the reel at high speed. Looking for trouble, I did the gentlemanly thing and also made a cast, immediately hooking another fish. After about 15 minutes of blood, sweat, and under-and-overs, we both landed bludger trevally of about 16 pounds each. Like all trevally, these were tough customers and sluggers in the deeper water.
After that we tried to work our way over toward Ed and Steve, who were having heaps of fun, but ended up getting stick over a school of northern bluefin tuna that kept us busy for the better part of the next two hours. These fish were between 10 and 20 pounds and real line burners. I've always thought that if they grew as large as yellowfin, they could pull 'em backwards.
Then an offshore wind came up and things got a little sloppy, so we decided to head toward the beach where we had seen huge bait schools earlier. There, in the lee of the shore, the ocean was glassy and we could see a panicky school of bait being hit from all sides in about four feet of water. The marauders could be seen distinctly: golden trevally, queenies, mackerel, giant trevally and whaler sharks. We grabbed our rods and drifted over the school of baitfish, which immediately tried to take shelter under our boat.
So there we were, out in the middle of bloody nowhere, amid fantastic scenery with fish going berserk all around us. What a way to end a trip!
During those eight days I captured 19 different species on fly. It was my first serious fly-fishing experience, and I came away with the feeling that the Gulf of Carpentaria may have added a whole new dimension to the term "beginner's luck".
We fished three different river systems, casting Clousers to small tarpon, barramundi, mangrove jack and various bream in snags. We also tossed big sinking flies into berley (chum) trails over reefs for king mackerel, tuna, fingermark and re emperors (one of Australia's best-eating fish). And we walked and spits and beaches searching for golden trevally, ladyfish and barracuda. But the most incredible fishing of all came on our last day.
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After a two & a half-hour flight over the Great Barrier Reef, the chartered Aero Commander from Reefwatch Avaiation settled down at Bamaga International Airport, best described as a medium-sized shed. This was our jumping-off point for eight days of fishing in the Gulf of Carpentaria
Greg Bethune of Carpentaria Seafaris was on hand to help us transfer our gear and drive us 12 miles to the tiny village of Seisia. Red dust from the dirt road covered every building, every car, every dog and even some of the people in Seisia (and if you go there, don't forget to have Greg show you the spear-proof jail).
At Seisia we boarded our mothership, the Capricorn Mist, a 40-foot Grand Banks-style ship which can accommodate six anglers. On this trip, however, there would be only four: Steve Starling, Australian angling superstar; Ed Rice, U.S. sports-show guru; my wife Kate; and me.
Departing from Seisia, we headed for the mouth of the Doughboy River to anchor for the night, pausing long enough for Ed and Steve to chase some longtail tuna in one of four skiffs towed behind the Capricorn Mist. At the mouth of the Doughboy we were greeted by large Queensland grouper (estuary cod) that took up residence under the vessel, using it as a convenient ambush site or waiting for handouts. These fish weigh anywhere from 300 to 500 pounds, and with several under the boat at a time, they become a form of entertainment in themselves.
One of these critters took to stalking our skiff as Kate and I cast along a rocky drop-off. While I was releasing a 5-pound mangrove jack, Kate saw the big fish coming and hollered "Shark!", as any well-trained American will do. I snapped the mangrove jack away from the grouper's enormous mouth just in the nick of time, and my heart was pounding as I casually mentioned to Kate that the big groupers appeared to be reasonably quick. We were to find them in most of the river systems where we anchored.
Greg calls his four towed skiffs "widow boats". He found them by canvassing neighborhoods for unused boats resting in the weeds behind houses. The owners were usually delighted to receive an offer for their surplus craft, and Greg hauled them away, stripped them down to the hull, and gave them new life as a fishing dinghy.
The "widow boats" averaged 15 feet. Each was equipped with casting and polling platforms and cleared of any obstacles to catch fly line. Powered by 25-horsepower engines, they were perfect for attacking the miles of flats, river systems, and offshore reefs we encountered during our eight-day charter.
One of the skiffs also doubled as Greg's camera boat. He fancies himself a Cecil B. DeMille type and really does make your trip look epic on video. With him doing the filming, you have more time to do nothing but fish, sleep, and eat. This is truly a fishing camp for big kids.
Speaking of eating, your three square meals a day aboard the Capricorn Mist are prepared (and usually caught) by Greg's wife, Jennie, and they are delightful. Mud crab night was especially memorable. Greg caught the "muddies" in the Skardon River, then cleaned, cracked and cooked them on deck in the largest wok I have ever seen. Mud crabs are a specialty second only to a local treat called Numus, similar to Ceviche but prepared with raw queenfish and served at the Sharp Bar (i.e., the ship's bow) with a cold stubbie (beer).
Crocodiles, sharks, stonefish, sea snakes and other wonderful "bities" abound in these waters, but most of the locals make it to puberty just by following
But those rules shouldn't stop you from walking most beaches and sand flats, because these offer some of the most exciting sight fishing in the world. Greg showed us some of the best places and explained the Zen behind avoiding "skinks", his endearing little name for saltwater crocodiles. Don't obsess about these beautiful creatures; if anything, you should be thrilled to see them in their natural environment.
We encountered many different fishing situations in our eight-day adventure. By splitting up, sometimes with a guide or sometimes hunting our own spots, we also captured many different species. The real bread-and-butter quarry included barramundi, queenfish, golden trevally, longtail tuna, mackerel, giant herring (ladyfish), and even permit.
Ed and Steve put a lot of effort into stalking permit and Steve managed to hook a good one only to have the fish rub his crab imitation in the sand after a short fight. But his disappointment later turned to joy when he captured a massive giant herring, which is now a pending world record. With great speed, power, and a propensity for aerobatics, these fish are spectacular opponents reminiscent of tarpon. Greg reckons they're like bonefish on steroids.
The queenfish is another fantastic fighter. If you like the sight and sound of a fly line ripping through the water, you must try one of these. Kate caught an awesome specimen that slashed at her Deceiver several times before finally smashing it boatside while she stripped the fly full speed. The resulting boil of water made it look like someone had thrown in a large cinder block. She fought the "queenie" hard for 45 minutes.
Unlike most queenfish, which go ballistic with spectacular somersaults in an effort to throw the hook, this one never jumped. Instead, it burrowed down deep, giving Kate a painful reminder of her experience duking it out with a pair of giant trevally the day before - encounters she described as "having her butt kicked". But this time the fish slowly succumbed to constant pressure, looking like a large wobbling mirror as it reflected the sun's rays through the water, and we finally tailed it. It would have qualified as a woman's world record, but turned out to be foul-hooked as Kate had suspected, so she released it - something she would have done anyway, I think.
We fished three different river systems, casting Clousers to small tarpon, barramundi, mangrove jack and various bream in snags. We also tossed big sinking flies into berley (chum) trails over reefs for king mackerel, tuna, fingermark and re emperors (one of Australia's best-eating fish). And we walked and spits and beaches searching for golden trevally, ladyfish and barracuda. But the most incredible fishing of all came on our last day.
That morning, as I was on my way to brush the rum out of my teeth, I looked out and saw acres of baitfish being ravaged by predators. Large numbers of birds hovered over slashing tuna and mackerel working vast bait schools as gar as we could see. We even glimpsed a large whaler shark charging through a school of baitfish along our bow, gorging on the tightly packed prey
Breakfast was a hurried affair as we scrambled to make the most of our dwindling time. The fishing that followed was fast and furious. Ed and Steve zoomed off toward a patch of birds about a half a mile away and we soon saw both of them fighting fish. We found our own little patch of erupting water and Kate cast, stripped the fly once, and bingo! The rod bucked over and line screamed off the reel at high speed. Looking for trouble, I did the gentlemanly thing and also made a cast, immediately hooking another fish. After about 15 minutes of blood, sweat, and under-and-overs, we both landed bludger trevally of about 16 pounds each. Like all trevally, these were tough customers and sluggers in the deeper water.
After that we tried to work our way over toward Ed and Steve, who were having heaps of fun, but ended up getting stick over a school of northern bluefin tuna that kept us busy for the better part of the next two hours. These fish were between 10 and 20 pounds and real line burners. I've always thought that if they grew as large as yellowfin, they could pull 'em backwards.
Then an offshore wind came up and things got a little sloppy, so we decided to head toward the beach where we had seen huge bait schools earlier. There, in the lee of the shore, the ocean was glassy and we could see a panicky school of bait being hit from all sides in about four feet of water. The marauders could be seen distinctly: golden trevally, queenies, mackerel, giant trevally and whaler sharks. We grabbed our rods and drifted over the school of baitfish, which immediately tried to take shelter under our boat.
So there we were, out in the middle of bloody nowhere, amid fantastic scenery with fish going berserk all around us. What a way to end a trip!
During those eight days I captured 19 different species on fly. It was my first serious fly-fishing experience, and I came away with the feeling that the Gulf of Carpentaria may have added a whole new dimension to the term "beginner's luck".
