Gary Kemsley overcomes a frustrating session to enjoy some exciting tropical fishing.

It’s always very dark in the tropics before the waking sun lights the eastern sky. Consequently, several boats jockeyed for position in front of Ikari House in total blackness. Like taxis looking for customers, they circled the shallows as the light finally arrived; each skipper was there to pick up his guide and their clients for a day to be spent fishing the waters surrounding Christmas Island.

Peter and I were on Top Sea with skipper Avvara that day, accompanied by guide Kurt. We wanted to try for a sailfish on fly. Two days earlier, a French fly-fisherwoman had caught an estimated 40kg sail not too far from the lodge.

To start the day, we decided to drift the milkfish schools and cast our weed flies to them. These milkfish were a good size, averaging three to five kilos, and thousands of them can be packed into the dense schools. The first hour or so of daylight is best for this type of fishing, so that’s why we were ready nice and early.

Following that, if there was time, we planned to troll lures for yellowfin tuna, which were prolific this trip.

Our gear was simple: a #14-weight rod and Hatch 9+ reel loaded with a shortened 14-weight line and 400m of backing for the sailfish attempt; a #9 weight with a floating line for the milkies; and 15-24kg trolling sets for the yellowfin.

We zoomed into the open ocean through a gap in the reef and found schooling milkfish straight away. However, after trying them with no luck, we moved on. The next school broke up and drifted off before we could get in position to cast. Same at the next school. The writing was on the wall, so we ran a couple of kilometres up the coast to Paua Point. The milkfish were fishable there, but refused our flies, even when well presented. We decided to cut our losses.

Running away from the milkfish, two bird and squid teasers were dropped back to skitter and splash along behind us; a passing sailfish would have to come in for a closer look at them. We trolled the teasers around the point, then another couple of kilometres up to Poland. Nothing. It was rough up there, so I was pleased to turn and head back – Plan B was falling apart!

We kept trolling the teasers around Paua Point and down into the calmer waters beside the island. We were just about to throw in the towel, when a glittering carpet of baitfish showered into the air about 300m away, so we turned and went through the area – without raising anything.

At this point it seemed reasonable to pull the teasers in and try for a yellowfin, so we slowed and tidied the back of the boat for our final quest. Peter had a doctor’s appointment at 3pm, leaving us three hours of trolling to catch a yellowfin.

We both had spin sets rated 15-24kg. I ran mono and Pete was running braid. The lure choice was the same for both of us: Rapala X Rap 40+ deep-divers; mine was red and white in the ‘Tongan Flag’ style and Pete’s was ‘Pilchard’. I had re-hooked the lures with twin singles to make them a lot easier to deal with in the cockpit or release if desired.

These lures can run down to 12 metres deep and had previously proved very effective on yellowfin, skipjack, wahoo and giant trevally, and are my go-to lures on tropical trips these days.

Once set, we trolled to where other boats were gathering. The swell and wind chop were getting up, and none of the nearby boats were catching at that time. We trolled wider and then returned to the milkfish schools near Paris Island. Nothing, not even a knock!

So, we splashed our way towards the point west of London (where we were staying), a run of about three or four kilometres. Then our guide and boatman saw birds on the horizon. I wished they hadn’t, because we had to crash and bump our way through metre-high swells to get into the area.

It did look likely when we arrived, with birds circling above the choppy waters. In went the lures again, and we started searching. One minute we would be holding our breath as we were surrounded by birds (not diving but looking), then they would be gone. If there were big fish below, they were on the move.

More frustration followed, and finally, with time up and the wharf in sight, we got the call we’d been waiting for…

“Get ready for a tuna chance,” the skipper yelled.

Looking ahead, the sky was filling with birds. Soon after my rod tip went down and the Penn 950 reel purred as line exited fast. Peter was hooked up, too, his reel squealing as braid unloaded.

“Double strike!” I yelled with glee.

Pete’s fish went straight down, while mine angled away and then dived. They were well apart, which was great. Pete had his coming soon enough, but mine stayed out wide and fairly deep. Then the line angle changed and my fish was heading for the surface at speed. My mind had few possible answers as to what was going on: a marlin or a sailfish maybe? Possibly a big wahoo?

Nearing the surface, there was a great swirl and lots of white water – a shark had bitten my yellowfin in two, leaving me with the head and half the body. Meanwhile, Peter landed a neat little yellowfin of about 5kg.

“They are still here. Get your lines out again,” called Kurt. Flicking the reel’s bail arm over, I watched as the diving lure pulled the line deep behind the boat – and then the tip went down and the reel howled again. I heard Pete’s wailing reel, too. Another double strike.

I pumped my small tuna in fairly quickly, but Pete was struggling with something bigger. For 10 minutes, it stayed deep before slowly giving way. Eventually, upon being brought to the top, we saw it was a lovely yellowfin on his line. It took a while to get the boat positioned for a gaff shot, as the yellowfin kept circling just out of reach, but it gave up in the end and Kurt gaffed it aboard – a better fish of around 20kg.

“Time for one more,” Kurt called, and out went our lures again.

Fifty metres later Pete hooked up again – another deep slugger, but it weakened before long and came aboard. Another spectacular yellowfin, wearing a coat of yellow, gold, bronze and blue.

Looking around, I discovered we were right outside the wharf, just three minutes running time from the beach.

“Last chance! Get them out!”

We did, and in no time I’d hooked another hard-fighting, deep-running, line stretcher. This is what we’d come here for!

While pumping him up from the deep, I kept expecting another shark to turn up. It didn’t, and soon we had another 6kg yellowfin aboard. Suddenly, we had six beautiful yellowfin aboard – and Peter still made his doctor’s appointment.