It’s one of those perfect evenings. A full moon that hurts your eyes if you stare too long, no wind, and off in the distance, the noises of distant activity,Mats of hyacinth and lily pads lay ahead of you on water the same color as volcanic glass and just as smooth. You’ve been casting for about an hour, from dusk onwards, getting the feel of casting an over-sized fly on a light outfit, shifting your weight as you feel the rod load and release, load and release.Many times you’ve watched with anticipation as your fly blops and dips under the surface in the moonlight, the only real hint of its presence: the moonlit reflection of its back, and the tell-tale wakes and ripples it makes. Many times you’ve anxiously paused, waiting for a bite, or any indication of a fish’s attention. Unfortunately, you’ve also been left dissappointed just as many times. Still, it’s an exquisite setting, and there’s no reason to give up, so you persist.Further along the bank you move, towards a slight headland with a bed of lilies out a little wider. Careful not to get your fly line too caught on the hyacinth, you strip out your head section and a little more. Then, you are set to work. Haul, snap, push, snap, haul, snap…all the while releasing more line into the air, sending your fly ever forwards in a process so elegant and complex, that even the most genial physicist could not ever hope to fully understand it.Out goes the purple and green dahlberg, into the lilies. Again, you retrieve, mixing it up, and being careful to slowly wiggle the fly over the top of lilies, so as not to snag up. A few casts later, and still no result. Despondently, you think, with the leader outside your tip, why there shouldn’t be a fish on the edge of the hyacinth at your feet.Dabble, dabble CROOOMPH! A detonation in water scarcely calf deep sends adrenalin flying through the system and gives you a sense of exhilaration and clarity. This is the fish you wanted, and in order to land it, you must pay it your full attention. There’s an odd calm over you, even as the fish pulls your entire fly line, whistling into the night, then a good measure of backing hissing along after it. Panic, and the fish has won, hesitate and the fish has won. This is a fight you do not want to lose.Slowly, carefully, you begin retrieving line, wary that if this fish buries you in the weeds, you may not be able to extract it. Just as you slip into a sense of relief that you’ve gaining control, a piece of the river launches up to greet the moon. There’s nothing left to do but smile and continue the fight, all the experiences anglers seek are coming together, it really couldn’t be any better.Eventually, the fish is landed with the help of a friend, and to your smug satisfaction, appears to be rather larger than was estimated.The evening has served its purpose, and the angler within is fulfilled. It is a good night.
Wow! That is one of the better stories I’ve read in a while! I was shocked to come on the site and see a barramudi in my face! You really captured what night fishing is about and how unearthly it can be. Great read!
Mike
right on .. great fish tale … never even heard of a barra fish? are they a frequently targeted fish in australia? they look very similar to snook with i believe are andronomous fish (can live in fresh and salt water) … i could be wrong about that though … anyway … that huge tail looks as though it certainly would give the fish some power…. what other kind of species do you often target down there in australia???? are they all as exotic as the barra?? many aligators, crocks and snakes where you were fishing … that would kinda scare me a bit … creaping around the edges of the water at night … but you are probably accustomed to it .. just curious if that is a concern of yours while fly fishing in your neck of the world ..
Thank you Steelie. Always enjoyed reading a lot and occassionally, things rub off. Glad you liked it. Gotta love the good ol’ barramundi!
Barra’s short for barramundi (Lates calcarifer). They are much like a snook, same family: Centropomidae. However, they’re a little more robustly built, taller, I suppose, and less elegant. They are also anadromous/catadromous (whichever one), having to breed in the salt (unlike salmon, which do it the other way). Lots of power, and they jump, which makes it even cooler. We get a lot of different fish, depending on where you are…In the freshwater, jungle perch, sooty grunter, tarpon (MUCH smaller than yours)…In the salt, well, where do we begin?
Snakes are definitely around that neck of the woods, but it’s blessedly devoid of the bigger saltwater crocs since the river’s heavily dammed. Wouldn’t think about bush bashing in the dark near croc territory…Too much even for me!
Owen
Great story that certainly is a large fish. Is that size common for a fish like that? Regardless that thing is huge….nice work with the writing and the fly rod.
You transmit so well the feeling of fishing at night…..never now what could ate your flie…the waiting…the night…it remind me some night fishing in Gabon/Africa.
Thanks for sharing and congrats for such a fish on a 5 WT, certainly a fight to remind.
great read and nice fish. What an exciting ordeal! Look forward to more!
Very cool story and a great read. That fish is incredible….looks like it is just built for power….a snook/striper hybrid on steroids. On a 5 weight no less…that must have been a rush. Nice job.
Thank you Joey. That size is about average for that river at 74cm or so, I think. They easily get over a metre, and I’ve got one to my name at 105cm, though only on conventional baitcasting tackle. That still, is considered small by some of the guys up here…
Owen
Thank you most graciously. I’m not sure if my spots are quite as exciting as Gabon in Africa though…Definitely nothing about that could kill you too easily…
Barras certainly know how to pull. The only thing going against them is that they lack stamina in still waters. They also seem to have a bit of a threshold…They don’t fight TOO much below the 50cm mark, but once they get around the 70 odd, they’re definitely an adversary. After that, every few centimetres, they become just that little bit more un-stoppable. Metre plus (+40″; 15-20kg) ones are something to aspire to, and the amount of power one of those has is almost unbelievable.
Lucky that my spots don’t have much in the way of snags. I’d have basically no hope of pulling one like that out of a snag on a 5wt. Still, there’s not much you can’t budge with a 20lb tippet…
Owen
Be happy to oblige when the weather corrects itself…Thank you for the compliment.
That was an incredible story.. Thank you for sharing it with us. The fish kinda looks like a bass on steroids!!! I look forward to hearing more stories from downunder so keep them coming!!