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Fiji Mangrove Jack
By Cameron Cronin
With a family holiday to Fiji in the pipeline, I did what most people would and started to ask around my circle for advice on lure fishing my unfamiliar destination. After a couple of months, I inevitably found myself cramming as much fishing tackle into a suitcase as Qantas would safely allow, with high hopes for the journey ahead.
The motif of the info my mates had given me was essentially "big GT, dogtooth, wahoo, pack the heavy gear" and as a result I struggled to pull the zips closed over boxes of XL stickbaits, jigs and oversize jigheads. However, one thing that nobody really spoke of was the estuary and creek fishing. Looking on Google Earth, the area that I was staying in had plenty of easily accessible canals, bridges and creeks, that just begged to be cast at for mangrove jack.
Staying in another part of the Fiji islands, in years gone by, I experienced unbelievable fishing on these red demons, with double figure sessions commonplace and plenty of unstoppables in the mix. Could this new area yield similar results? There was only one way to find out... I threw a tray of TT HeadlockZ into my brother's suitcase, readied another rod tube, and filled my carry on luggage with ZMan plastics, just as the shuttle pulled up to the front door. Next time I'll be packing well in advance!
Arriving in the early hours of the morning, it was unseasonably cold as our taxi sped through the Fijian backstreets towards our hotel. I was a little worried about the weather putting the jacks off the bite, but still in high spirits after driving past some of the vast canal systems I would be fishing. As the sun was already close to rising we decided not bother with sleep and headed straight for an exposed reef, fringing the banks of the river mouth and visible from the front of the hotel.
It only took a few minutes of spinning before my lure stopped dead in its tracks and 10lb line began to empty from my reel at a blistering pace. Welcome to Fiji! A few tense moments later a solid brassy trevally hit the reef, followed by a respectable cod from my brother, Liam. After both changing to a small 4" ZMan PaddlerZ in Opening Night colour, the action continued at a steady pace throughout the morning and by 11 am we had landed at least 20 trevs and cod of varying species, plus a handful of queenfish , finny scad and barracoota.
After lazing around for the rest of the day, my mind was beginning to turn towards those canals. The morning session had been noticeably absent from any jacks and it was clear that I needed to search further upstream if I wanted to attain that goal. Energized by the morning session, Liam was keen to tag along again, so we set out into the afternoon sun, toward the closest part of the canal that we could reach on foot.
Fortunately for us, this was only a couple of hundred metres away from where we were staying, winding its way through the local golf course. As we approached the first spot my pulse quickened as I sighted a school of nervous looking mullet, balled up behind an oyster encrusted footbridge, taking shelter from the strong run out tide.
I quickly rummaged through my tackle bag and rigged up a 4" ZMan DieZel MinnowZ, while my brother chose the smaller 3" version. At this point we could see the mullet fleeing from unknown predators beneath the bridge, showering out the water in a desperate attempt to escape death from below.
To give each other a fair chance, we decided to cast at exactly the same time. No sooner than my lure had touched down, it was thumped and the drag began to scream. Turning to my right, my brother was locked in a similar battle, with his opponent giving him plenty on my lighter bass setup. A moment later I pulled hooks, just in time to watch my brother beach a healthy mangrove jack of around 40cm. It was a bittersweet outcome, knowing the fish I had lost was significantly larger, but nevertheless I was stoked to know the jacks were around, especially so early into the holiday. If this was first cast, what would the rest of the trip bring?
As the shadows lengthened our session continued on in a similar fashion. Any piece of structure that deflected the main current flow would receive a cast, with the lure seldom making it back without being crunched by an angry predator, be it a jack, trevally, barracoota, cod or some other unstoppable that must have laughed at our lighter gear.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon our spirits were high off the back of a 20 fish session, featuring double figures of mangrove jack, up into the mid 40cm range. Walking back to the hotel, it was instantly clear that the estuary would be the focus of the trip, with the ultimate goal being for one of us to crack a 60cm jack. How we would go about tracking down the bigger fish was anyone's guess, although we were both quietly confident it wouldn't take long...
Fast forward to the halfway mark of the trip and things weren't going exactly to plan. Sure, the fishing was exceptional by any standards, with every session resulting in plenty of jacks to add to our growing tally. However, we just couldn't seem to locate the bigger fish.
In an attempt to shake things up, we decided to take a taxi to a more remote system, in the hope of discovering the class of fish we were after. After getting dropped off in a pretty sketchy looking area, we flogged the surrounding creeks to foam, with very little to show for our efforts. Sweaty and disheartened, with the sun beginning to set, we began our trek back to the hotel on foot, after failing to find another driver to take us back.
That was when things got interesting. Passing over a set of inconspicuous little bridges on foot, it was clear that the cover of darkness had transformed the fishing potential of these locations. Bright blue lights used to illuminate the footpath spilled onto the water surface below, attracting an array of confused looking baitfish towards pylons of the bridge. After a few moments of observation, I watched in awe as a mangrove jack of around 55cm casually cruised through the light line, sending the baitfish scattering in all directions. The lures hit the water immediately, leading to a fishing frenzy as mangrove jack and estuary cod destroyed our lures cast after cast.
Gradually the action at these first bridges began to slow and we started to piece together a strategy for the rest of the night. Although we didn't land any large jacks here, it was obvious that we were taking the right approach, especially after a particularly brutal bust off in the same area that we had seen the big jack cruising. A strong run in tide had just finished flooding the canals and I knew of some usually shallow and unproductive bridges on the way home, that would probably change into mangrove jack havens under the cover of darkness. Dinner would have to wait tonight because it was time to crack a 60cm jack!
About half an hour later we finally arrived at my planned location. Surveying the spot from above, it was immediately clear that this location would be something special. Here the tide had begun to run out, creating swirling eddies filled with frightened mullet. Watching for a little longer, I could see that a good proportion of these fish had missing fins and a variety of wounds and scars, some still fresh and bleeding, betraying the certain presence of our quarry in the shadows below.
I let Liam make the first cast, which was met by a thumping strike, and a fouled up DieZel MinnowZ. We both held our breath as the repeat cast was made. The lure nearly made it back to our feet before it disappeared in a flash of scales and tore off into the night. Scrambling over rocks to stay connected, my first words were "not a jack" as 8lb line emptied from my bass setup at a furious rate, before the fish settled into the fight about 40 metres out from where it was hooked. My brother could feel the unseen beast rubbing against the oyster covered bottom, so the drag was backed off and the fish gradually worked back to our feet.
The moment where you first set eyes on a big fish is always something special and I will never forget the second when a jack of at least 70cm breached the water's surface. Liam, being relatively new to fishing went into panic mode, locking up the drag as the beast made one final dash for freedom. The line hit the oysters and in seconds it was all over. Liam was shattered and I was devastated for him.
We managed a few fish up to 50cm that night as consolation, but nothing could ease the pain of losing a fish like that, especially so close to the end of the fight. We went to bed that night frustrated but determined to turn our new strategy into another chance at a 60cm+ jack.
As you could imagine the next night we headed straight to the same location. Both armed with 4" ZMan DieZel MinnowZ, I gave my brother my lighter mulloway setup, with 10lb braid and 20lb leader, while I went heavier, opting for 20lb braid and 40lb leader.
Earlier in the day I had suffered some serious bust offs and with limited time left I wasn't taking any chances the next time my 60cm jack came around. Arriving at the spot it was another picture perfect night, with the water from the big high that evening roaring under the bridge and out into the main river. Keen for Liam to get his revenge, I (reluctantly) let him take first cast, which was directed exactly to where the last fish was hooked. What followed was something you could probably find in the dictionary under déjà vu. The lure stopped dead in its tracks and the drag began to scream. It was time for round 2!
The fish fought in a similar way and learning from his mistake the night before, Liam backed off the pressure as a crimson hued beast entered the streetlights at our feet. Shortly after I was holding over 60cm of Fiji jack in my hands. We were both stoked to finally crack the mark and I was quietly impressed at how well Liam had handled the trophy jack around the oyster filled terrain on such light gear. With the fishing falling quiet, we decided to call it a night early and head back home in time for dinner. What a great way to make up for yesterday!
Over the next few days we continued to fish the same tide, which would push an hour or so later into the night with each session. We were landing plenty of quality fish, up to 50cm, but I was having an absolute shocker, losing a couple of cracking 60+ models to pulled hooks and a bust offs in consecutive nights. By the time the productive tide started to fall past midnight, my brother had had enough, so it was down to just me for the last few sessions.
I was done playing around with lost fish, so from this point on I armed myself with my heaviest estuary mulloway combo I owned, consisting of a 5000 size reel and 50lb braid. Good decision! The very next session my second cast was met with the telltale hit and run strike of an XL sized jack, but this time the odds were well in my favour. My 5/0 TT Lures HeadlockZ HD held true and in a few seconds I had my biggest Fiji jack flapping around angrily on the grass. A rough rod measure placed the fish at around 55cm and the pressure had finally being lifted off my back. It was no 60... but I was pumped to finally put a good one on the bank!
As it turned out that would be my last shot at a big jack for the trip, with shrinking tides forcing the bigger fish out of the shallow canals into the unknown. Although I didn't get to return home with bragging rights over my brother, we both agreed the fishing had being nothing short of exceptional, with cricket scores of land based jacks and plenty of exciting bycatch in the form of trevally, big cod and metre plus barracoota to keep the reflexes sharp between bites. All the while, the heavy gear spent most of its time gathering dust!
Overall, if anyone reading this is planning a trip to Fiji anytime soon, don't forget about the estuaries! Grab a few packs of ZMan plastics and a box of HeadlockZ and get into what I would call some of the best jack fishing in the world... I know I'll be back!