Holoholo: Golden at long last

Jason has been chasing a particular species of inshore jack all his life. How fitting that he captured it on a fly rod at the spot he first gazed upon one as a child.

Jason: The story begins the day before, during our Saturday morning outing.   I had spent most of the day fooling around with streamers at the edge of the flat, trying for papio, lai, or whatever would bite.  Things were pretty slow, so when the tide went down, I decided to switch to targeting bones.  

Anyone who knows me knows I am an unabashed bomber, but the tide was low, and the light was good, so I decided I would sight fish.  My friends John and Brent were on the beach talking story with a fisherman they had just met, and I decided I would fish nearby, in a location I knew was frequented by pa’opa’o.  There were a lot of blacktips that day, and I saw a few bones but none were interested.  About 30 minutes in I spotted what, from a distance, appeared to be a pa’opa’o. Just as I raised my rod, it spooked, and took off for the channel. “Maybe next time…”

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, and since we had all struck out we decided we would give it another try Sunday.

Given what I’d seen the day before, I decided I would focus on the same area right out of the gate.  The morning light wasn’t great, and the tide was a bit higher than it was midday Saturday. This was all the excuse I needed to revert to my preferred MO of “targeted” bombing. I hit all the same spots where I’d seen fish the day before, eventually parking myself at the same location I’d seen the pa’opa’o. I got myself into a nice casting rhythm, covering a 90 degree swath of water with my 6 wt R.B. Meiser switch rod.

I had not been doing this for more than 5-10 minutes when I noticed a bait fisherman wading out nearby.  I kept one eye on him and the other on my casting, hoping he would not stop near me.  I was beginning to contemplate moving when I suddenly felt a heavy take, followed by a relatively slow, but powerful run.  Having hooked a number of barred and yellow spot trevallys in the past, I recognized it immediately.  Could this be it?  It definitely was not a bone!

Whatever it was, it knew what it was doing, and took me straight into the channel, tangling my fly line on the edge of the reef in the process.  I made my way all the way to the edge (which was a little sketchy) and managed to untangle it.  At that point I realized it hadn’t gone into the middle of the channel, but instead towards the nearby pier. 

I tightened up the drag, and was able to steer it away from the pier, but a nearby piling sticking out of the water was still a threat.   After applying more pressure, I was relieved to see the flash of the fish’s side a few feet in front of the piling, indicating I had turned its head before it could wrap me.  The problem now was my 6 wt switch rod lacked the lifting power to control the fish. A few minutes went by, and I managed to finally muscle it to the surface and within view…it was a pa’opa’o. The pressure was really on now!

With a relatively light (and long) switch rod, I realized it would be tricky to land by myself, so I yelled for John to come over.  He booked it 100 yards plus across the flat with his net, while I continued to keep it away from the pier and near the edge of the flat.  It was the longest minute or two of my life, but he finally arrived and and made his way to the edge and into a little sandy channel where the fish and I had been at a stalemate.  After a few tense moments and last second escapes, the fish was finally secured in the net.  I couldn’t believe it!

Along with awa’aua (ladyfish), the pa’opa’o (golden trevally) is a fish I’ve dreamt of catching since small kid time.  I finally got my awa’aua on the fly in 2016  – but the pa’opa’o had continued to elude me…until now.

P.S. As a kid, my father would often take us to the area near that same pier to fish for halalu.  I’d often explore the pier itself, and would stick my head over the edge to take a peek at what was below.  I would usually see a school of weke or small kupipi, but on one occasion, there was a big beautiful pa’opa’o swimming beneath it.  That memory, like this one, is forever burned into my mind.  Thanks for letting me share this story!

Jason