Holoholo writer Matthew broadens his shore fishing skills and tackles fly fishing.

Matthew: Fly fishing… It can either be peaceful and enjoyable or a complete mess of frustration and tangles. Sure, it looks easy to cast a fly setup. Wave the rod forward, wave the rod backward, and let go of the line and watch it sail. It seems so simple and easy, or so I thought. After picking up a fly setup for the first time, I headed to one of my go-to Oio spots and tried casting. It resulted in a disaster, a horrible wind knot, and a hook in my shoulder on the first cast. Luckily I took the advice of another fly fisherman and started off with barbless hooks, and the hook didn’t go in too far. What happened? It turns out that muscle has nothing to do with casting, and it has a lot to do with form and timing. Timing, timing, timing, timing. I still have not gotten anywhere mastering it yet. 

After taking a few more horrible casts that would’ve made anyone laugh had I been fishing with a buddy, I made my way out past the shoreline and tried blind casting downwind. My casts were still pitiful and the line slapping the water probably scared any fish away within a hundred yard radius. Long story short, it was a tough evening. I ended up with a Nohu (poisonous Hawaiian rockfish), which fought like a rock, and a bunch of actual rocks that I pulled up from the bottom. 

I headed out the next day at midday to attempt, with emphasis on the word attempt, to catch an Oio sightcasting. I got lucky and saw one within minutes, as I already knew how to spot Oio, which is the only component of fly fishing that I am decent at. Casting accurately, enticing a fish to bite, and fighting a fish on fly gear are things that I still suck at. As you might expect, the line on one of the false casts slapped the water with a loud SMACK! and the Oio hightailed it out of there. Aargh, this is harder than it looks. I saw several Oio after that, and all ended relatively the same way, the line hitting the water and the Oio spooking.  

The next day I went out and dedicated more than half the trip to just learning how to cast in the shallows, and I got a lot better at it. After getting the timing slightly better and incorporating the double haul technique, my casts were looking better. I headed out and after a while I was able to spot a lone fish around four pounds heading straight towards me. I waited to see if it would turn, which it did, and I made a cast without spooking it around 12 feet in front of it. I thought, “Damn, the reef is so gnarly here that if I hook this fish I’ll probably lose it”. To my surprise, it ate the fly and the fly line started going through my fingers, and not to my surprise, it reefed me almost instantly. Aargh. I retied my leader and ended up spooking even more fish before I decided to call it a day. 

The next week, I tried at a new spot, and saw a few fish, but the wind was so bad that it was nearly impossible to make a decent cast. I ended up blind casting, but to no avail. 

I was starting to get really frustrated with fly fishing and was considering bringing back out the spinner rod and reel for my usual Sunday Dawn patrol. After thinking about it for some time, I decided to give the fly rod another chance, with a new strategy and new flies in hand. The only problem was that I didn’t check the weather and it ended up being very windy and with clouds overhead. Not the best conditions for sight fishing. I proceeded forward, sighting some fish, until the rain came. There I was, the only idiot on the flat, in horrible wind and rain. I took out my phone to video, so I could at least bring something home, right? I ended up scrolling on instagram for a little bit, in the middle of the water, until I looked around and spotted a blueish-green blob around 20 feet away from me. By some miracle, an Oio had presented itself right to me, probably not being able to see me because of the ripples on the water and choppy waves. But I could see it, and that’s the main thing. 

I put my phone away, silently stripped out the line needed for a 20 foot long cast, and decided to lead the fish by a LOT. Luckily it never changed course and it came within 5 feet of my fly sitting on the bottom. I started with a long strip to catch its attention, followed by some short and fast ones. To my amazement, the Oio lit up and swaggered over to my fly. I gave it two hard, fast strips, and on the second one, I felt the weight of the fish, and set the hook. The fish felt the pain and took off toward the horizon as I frantically tried to release the loose fly line. Once it got into the reel, I applied mild pressure on the reel with my other hand and kept the fly rod high. Once it stopped running, I could feel it rubbing against rocks and ran over to free it from three different coral heads (in hindsight, I was lucky). I started working the fish in but forgot I had to feed the line into the reel evenly (I’m used to spinners that have a level wind mechanism), so the line piled up on one side and the reel jammed. I quickly let some line out and filled the other side of the reel, getting the fish in closer until we locked in some circles around each other.

After what felt like an eternity, it froze on the surface and I netted it. I was ecstatic and let out a pretty loud yell. The fish was bigger than I originally thought, measuring at 22”, and since it was a “fatty”, I’d probably estimate it at five and a half pounds. I took some pictures and it was released back into the water. Wow, what a rush. I went home a little after that, stoked to the moon and back, happy that I had managed to land my first Oio on the fly rod. 

I’m still a beginner and learning as I go, and most likely got lucky with that fish. Thanks for reading this long story. As for the Oio, I’ll be back for more, that’s for sure. And as always, good luck to you all.