When it comes to going on an overseas fishing adventure, the first point of call for most would not be jet ski fishing. But this trip was to be one with a difference writes Kirk Davis. 

Not only was I going on an adventure of a lifetime on a Waverunner, I was taking my son Blake and travelling with a big bunch of Aussie guys doing the same thing.

The plan was to pick up the Waverunner in Brisbane, and then drive a few hours north to Hervey Bay where we would launch the skis, meet the mothership, and make our way to the beautiful Fraser Island.

Fraser Island is a World Heritage listed site about 120kms long and is located 250kms north of Brisbane. The water there is crystal clear, and at certain times of the year, it is home to many tropical species of fish including black marlin. Yep, black marlin – the juveniles make their way to Fraser Island to feed on the large amount of bait fish, including small flying fish, and this was to be one of my targets during the trip.

There were ten adults and five kids, and we were all staying on a whale watching boat that had just come out of season. There were eight skis between us, and the plan was to make our way to the top of the island where the black marlin hang out and hopefully find some shelter from the strong northerly that was blowing. Logistics are massive in a trip like this, and simply pointing the ski in the direction you want to go and setting off is not an option. We were going for five days so needed a lot of fuel. This was rationed and then loaded into a chase boat. After a final briefing, it was to be about an hour’s run to the north in reasonably choppy conditions.

After bashing our way to our resting place for the night, we all rafted up and took our places on the mothership in anticipation of a good night’s rest and an exciting day to come.

The skis being prepared for rafting up at night.

Unfortunately, that good night’s sleep wasn’t to be. About midnight I awoke to the sound of the engine starting and the anchor coming up. After wandering around in a half-awake slumber for a minute or two, I was told that one of the guys skis had broken loose off the end of the chain of skis. He had only tied it in with a dodgy piece of rope he had lying around, and that wasn’t sufficient to hold it in the wind we were experiencing. A couple of hours of driving in the pitch black followed, but it wasn’t to be seen.

Day one at the island, and despite the wind and depleted number of skis, spirits and anticipation were high. Blake and I decided we would start by targeting tuna which we hoped wouldn’t be too far from the lee of the island. The mackerel tuna there grow to around 10kgs and feed on small baitfish. The trick to catching them is discovering the size of the baitfish they are feeding on as they can be very picky. A small silver lure (the Aussies call it a “chromy”) will attract them once you work out which size to cast.

Blake with a nice tuna.

A 40gram lure is only about 20mms smaller than a 60 gram lure; however, as the tuna were feeding on very small baitfish, that 20mms made all the difference in enticing the hookup.

I love taking Blake fishing with me, and this type of experience is one of those that can shape a child. At only 11 years old, to be on a trip like this is massive. It was brilliant having the other young boys there, all of whom were very similar in age and levels of enthusiasm. When they got bored on the skis, the boys could hang out on the mothership together or take a kayak the few metres to the shore of the pristine Fraser Island.

At night, the thirst for fishing didn’t stop. We did some fishing from the mothership and all got to witness the largest bait ball I have ever seen. There was obviously something very large down deep rounding up the baitfish behind the boat, which at times was literally boiling with fish. It was an amazing sight to see for young and old, and not one that will ever be forgotten.

The mothership made for a great base for the expedition.

Fraser Island is an amazing location where, despite the shallow water, many species are present in the right conditions. It seems odd to be trolling in water so shallow and clear that you can see the bottom, yet be expecting to hook tuna, mackerel or even black marlin.

The black marlin was elusive the first few days of trolling, but the lost ski was no longer lost. It had been spotted by an aircraft flying overhead, so a rescue was put in place to get it back. Amazingly, it had washed up on a sandy beach and still had the rods in the holders! Nothing is ever easy in this remote wilderness though, so getting the ski back involved a lot of lifting, grunting, diving into the water to rescue other skis and the general hilarity that goes with all of this!

As the end of the trip neared, the expectation of hooking that elusive black marlin was getting lower by the day. Blake was now content to hang with his new mates on the island, so I was on my own, doing the yards on the ski.

With the rest of the group on the mothership having an afternoon beer, one of the Daiwa Saltist 35Hs started to talk. I say talk, rather than scream, because the ratchet was just tickling line out slowly, just enough to get my attention. It lasted maybe two or three seconds, then stopped. I thought it may be a small fish or a bit of weed. Twenty seconds later and the Saltist on the other side of the ski started to scream – it was on!

It’s hard to explain the excitement that goes through the body when you see your first black marlin jumping and diving out the back of a Waverunner. Here I was on a ski a little over three metres long, connected to a fish of a similar size that was peeling line at an alarming rate and dancing around the ocean. The adrenaline was pumping. This is what I have spent years dreaming of, months planning for, and days trolling to achieve.

Kirk hooked up on the baby black marlin.

The beauty of the location is that everything is close. I was less than 100m from the beach of Fraser Island, and only a few hundred meters from the mothership. The boys on the boat could see the action unfolding, so a couple of them quickly donned lifejackets and jumped on their skis to join me.

The fight was amazing. The fish taking line at will. Jumping, turning, ducking and diving. And all in a beautiful location with my best little fishing mate, as well as a whole bunch of new mates who I am sure I will join for many more fishing adventures from the ski. And unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, I am going to have to join those boys again soon to tick off my first black marlin from the Waverunner. After fighting the fish for a few minutes, just as I started to get some ascendency, the hook pulled. Gutted is an understatement, but hey, what better motivation do I need to head back to a beautiful part of the world for a week’s fishing?