The morning isn’t off to a good start, the wind’s blowing 15 knots already, and your housemate, Olivier’s late at the ramp. But, you and your mate wait a further 5 minutes, and surely enough, the long-awaited guest arrives. Then Olivier’s new to flats fishing, and hasn’t had any experience whatsoever in what both you and Steve are hoping awaits you over some of the most accessible, yet unknown and most importantly, productive flats systems available to you. The ride over is predictably bumpy, and you mumble to yourself what you know to be true, it’ll only get worse…Once you reach the flats though, you find that they’re relatively sheltered, much to everyone’s relief. You and Steve reach for the long wands, and Olivier is handed a spin rod with a soft plastic about 5” long. A friend is sighted in the distance and apparently, the flats have been quiet; only a couple of golden trevally showed early this morning. Both you and Steve know that the most productive tide is a rising one, but neither can help feeling a little discouraged. After the friend leaves, you all set to business; both you and Steve adopt that curiously erect posture with slowly turning heads as you scan the flats for signs of life. Soon after this begins, you all begin fishing to stave off the boredom. A few small coral cods later, and all of a sudden, something appears in the distance, hard up along the bank and moving quickly…Very quickly. At first Steve and yourself think it’s a stingray, judging from the dark mass…Then, all of a sudden, tail tips emerge from the mass, scything left and right, purposefully driving what you know to be your quarry towards you. Steve turns the boat and all have a shot. Steve’s fly is rejected, yours, fell short, and Olivier’s soft plastic landed amongst them. “Ooh, I’ve been hit…HOLY (bleep)!” The sound that followed was beyond a mere buzz, it was akin to a jet turbine with bass. Against a heavy drag, the fish arced right, tore off 25-30m of 30lb braid and broke the surface with its huge tail as it surged again. Then, abruptly, the line went limp. Olivier had been busted off and both Steve and I knew that the fish was more than likely above average for this area. “Never mind, there’ll be more” you say. Of course, you say this with more confidence as you can see a school heading towards you at the back of the boat. Too soon, you bring it to everyone’s attention. Just as the school swims by and assesses the small fly you’ve cast in their path, Olivier’s 5” plastic slaps down ahead of them, and they predictably turn away. You grit your teeth, and forgive him this cardinal sin as you know it was committed without malice nor knowledge of the consequences. The day continues this way as you continually spot fish and either your casts fall short, or Olivier cuts your off/spooks the school with an over-zealous cast. He’s not to be blamed really, as the sight of dozens of golden tails thrashing in the air while their owners root around in the substrate would get anyone’s adrenaline pumping. Then, as the action cools off a little, Oliver pulls off a long cast, and says, “You never know what might be out there…” He was right. Halfway between where the cast landed and the boat, you see something in the chop, something with a dark back. “There’s something out there…” You utter. CHOOF! Olivier’s lure disappears in a welter of foam, and the very same roar as before announces a long, hard run. This time the line holds, thanks of course, to the new leader that you oh so kindly, out of the bottom of your heart, tied on for him. Both you and Steve smile though, knowing that what Olivier is experiencing is what drives both of you to do this again and again, going long days without fish between successes. That feeling is what drives anglers to behave in almost certainly certifiable ways, obsessing over arcane and mundane little details in the effort to fool an animal with a brain the size of a peanut kernel. Several good hard runs later the fish approaches boat side. But the fight was not over; Golden trevally fight with every ounce of power and energy in their possession. The fish was finally tailed, boated and photographed. Olivier was clearly ecstatic. The atmosphere energizes you all. Then, another all-important occasion in an angler’s life; He had to release his first every golden trevally, weighing easily over 5kg (10lb), instead of keeping it. He speared it into clear water and watched it disappear in a mist of bubbles and agitated silt. Now at this point, you’re both happy for him and slightly jealous, as you have never caught a golden trevally. Not from lack of trying, either. Never mind, next school… The next few schools and sightings turn up and predictably, Olivier begins to cut you off and spook the fish again. At this point, you’re starting to get a little more annoyed. Soon though, a dark mass is sighted in the distance by Steve and you creep up to it in the boat. As it comes within range, it’s clear that the mass is a herd of stingrays feeding in the sand. You snap off a shot before anyone else and land the little white clouser just in front of the stingray: a perfect shot. Strip…strip…boil…one more strip to set the hook, and then you hold the line tight. The line arcs sideways through the water, lifting a rooster-tail behind it and making that tearing noise that lets you know that the fish on the other end might be a little bigger than initially expected. You feed the loose line on the floor through the rod and then wait…you don’t have to for long.Shh Sh SHHHHhhhhh….(you fly line disappears)…ZZZZzzzZZZZZEEWWWW!!!! (Your backing follows…) The fish is off, and Steve calmly turns the boat to commence chasing. By time you begin gaining line, you realize that the fish has easily traveled one hundred metres (330ft) since you hooked it. What’s more, it’s far from over. You give the fish everything you have, holding the line, palming the reel, and heaving sideways and down, attempting to disorientate and confuse the fish. Unfortunately for you, this fish has decided not to bow down to the pressure pulling its head sideways and stubbornly arcs around, taking off on short, but incredibly powerful runs away from the boat occasionally. Even when boatside, the fish refuses to turn its head, so you wait, and you time your move. This pass, you point the rod at the fish and pull straight. The fish flips, and Steve grabs it by the tail wrist. The fight is won, and you’re elated. The smile on your face is almost skull-splittingly large. “HUZZAH!!” A few photos and congratulations and this fish too is overboard in quick time. Steve’s fish comes soon after re-commencing fishing, and once again, from the backs of stingrays. His fish fights long and hard too, stripping line off his 8wt with ease. Steve’s a little cautious with his fish, as he had torn the hook out of his first one for the day while attempting to pull the fish away from some coral heads. Nevertheless, when the flyline is returned to his reel, and he starts pressuring the fish a little more, it is clear that this one too, is being incredibly stubborn. Eventually however, the fish comes close to the boat on one of its arcs and you reach over to grab the fish for him. The deed is done; all three have caught what you came for this day. Three golden trevally, the largest to the novice, but the two twins to both you and Steve were still good fish at over 4kg (8-9lb) each. Bright sunlight, shallow, crystal clear water, flashing golden flanks and burning backing arcing across a tropical flat; it doesn’t get much better than that, eh?