In the beginning

So here's how it all began...

What had started out as a relatively simple plan to spend a week driving, camping, and fishing our way down the Florida Keys, had somehow turned into a two week gig in the middle of the Pacific ocean. The island in question is Kiritimati, Republic of Kiribati.

A bit of background on Kiritimati. The island was discovered by Captain James Cook, December 24, 1777. They stayed until the following 2nd of January. Cook said: "As we kept our Christmas here, I called this discovery Christmas Island." It is part of the Line Islands and home to native Gilbertese. Kiritimati is the Gilbertese spelling of Christmas (in Gilbertese, the ti combination is pronounced s; thus kee-rees-mass). Christmas Island is the largest true pure coral Atoll in the world.

Most of its notoriety stems from its dark history as the venue for nuclear weapons testing by the British and United States spanning the 1957-59 UK operation Grapple X to the start of the U.S. testing with operation Dominic in 1962 and extending into more recent testing through the mid 70's, including the Polaris sub-launched weapons. It has sustained direct overhead and offshore blasts, including 3 of the top 5 highest-yielding detonations on our planet.

While it holds the most expansive shallow saltwater flats in the world, its depths plummet to thousands of feet just hundreds of yard off of its shores. The nearest surface or sub-surface structure to the Atoll is the Hawaiian island chain, some 1400 miles NE. It is due to this isolation that the island is also a magnet for Pelagic species of fish, and more specifically - Tunoids. Its remoteness also lends itself to hosting large numbers (6 million plus anually) of migratory sea birds; more than any place in the world.

And so it was decided shortly after the holidays - we were going to Christmas Island.

Getting there is half the battle

So this is how the trip starts. I met Ken at his parents' place at about 3AM the morning of Sunday September 16th. Ken's dad usually drives us down to the airport and picks us up - hell of nice guy. We got to Philadelphia International with plenty of time to check our bags and kick back for a while awaiting our departure on Delta flight 5091 to Cincinnati, OH., the first leg of the trip to Honolulu Hawaii. Nothing would lead us to believe the chaos that would follow.

About a half hour before scheduled boarding time, an announcement was made over the intercom that there was a problem securing a flight attendant for the flight and that there most certainly would be a delay. We immediately began thinking of the problems we would have if we missed this flight or if it was delayed significantly. The trip to HI required two connections PA, OH, MN, and then finally to HI. There was about an hour to two hours between flights, so there wasn't really any room for error.

[Ken] They cannot get a flight attendant so they cancel the flight. Now what? Send us to Atlanta! We arrive in Atlanta and all those behind the counter are wondering why we were sent there. So, they do the only thing they can, book us on a nonstop flight to HI that is 14 people overbooked. We were told, "Good luck!" To ensure we were getting seats we made it to the counter at the gate 3 hours before departure. Finally, someone arrived and we are told to wait it out and listen for our names that are on the list. We were not going to get a seat. Meanwhile, Angelo is on the phone trying to book another flight to HI. Basically, he was told, "Nothing available. Good luck!"

[Ken] By this time, there was a huge line at the counter trying to get on the flight. While patiently waiting, I began talking with a woman in our same situation. She happened to notice that the airline was not actually using the list but was just booking the people in line. I jumped up, in front of some dude, and claimed that I was in line first and that if people are getting booked that I should...another person behind the counter motions for me to be quiet and tells me to come around to the other side of the counter. I am handed two tickets. Problem solved. There was a huge line of people that never made it. Suckers.

Honolulu airport is one of the best managed airports I've ever seen. Once you clear security into the gates, the entire gate area is about 4 blocks long and filled with Japanese gardens that had some monster carp in them. The runway you see in the photo is a catwalk between areas of the gates and you can just take a stairway down into any one of these gardens below. So we have a few days to unwind in Honolulu, Oahu and took advantage of some of the great snorkeling and people watching around the island. One particularly good spot to snorkel was this small bay known as Hanauma Bay. It was important that we had a day or two buffer in Honolulu just in case there was a significant problem somewhere - there is only one flight to Christmas Island per week, so you can't miss it. Back at Honolulu international, we found ourselves waiting at the small Air Pacific check in counter with only a few other people. One of them was an Aussie gent and the other two were elderly gents that told some very interesting fishing stories. They (Bud Brown and Wilson (Bogie) Bogan) apparently had been fishing together for some 40 years and have been to some great places - like fishing for Nile Perch in Africa, Patagonia, Australia, Antarctica, Africa, the Amazon, and many other exotic locations. Ken e-mailed me when we got back and told me he had been checking out a journal of an Australian fishing trip from 2006 on Dan Blanton's website and spotted some familiar faces. Look at the photo to the right and then go to this link and scroll all the way down to the fourth photo from the bottom of the page. Pay particular attention to the shirts that the gentlemen are wearing.

At this point, we're finally boarded on Air Pacific flight 823 to Christmas Island. We're now taxied and in line on our runway and I give Ken the thumbs-up and said "we're golden now". I apparently jinxed us. We were at the head of the line and they thrust the engines for takeoff - next thing you know the entire starboard side of the plane goes black after some flickering of lights. The next thing you know is the engines shut down and the pilot gets on the comm and says - "well, you have probably noticed that we've shut the engines down...". There was a frantic 10 minutes as they towed the plane off of the runway and then back to the gate, where we spent the next hour sitting in the plane while mechanics and engineers inspected the plane. They apparently could not reproduce the electrical failure, so the engineers decided that the pilot should try to "jostle" the engines, simulating the trusting on takeoff. They did that, and next thing you know, the lights went out again. It was at that point that I think I looked at Ken and said - "we just lost a day of fishing". Long story short - one of three electrical generators is bad, and that normally they can go with two, but since Kiritimati is such a remote location, it's their policy to have all three working to fly there. Bottom line is we had to stay another night in Honolulu and they said they would get a generator from Australia overnight on a Qantas flight and try to get the plane off the ground by 11 AM the next day.

They fixed the plane and we were finally off to Christmas Island. Upon approach, the captain rounded the entire Atoll. What a breathtaking view it was - a hundred square miles of emerald water and endless Bonefish flats. As I peered out the window, I smiled and realized that one of my lifelong dreams was about to come true - fly fishing in the ultimate Bonefish destination. This is after all, the fly fishing equivalent of the Super Bowl. I recall Ken saying to me about a year back - "you know we're going to go there eventually, so it might as well be now". What's unique about this Atoll is that it's a pure coral Atoll. There is no vegetation at all on these flats, just pure blindingly-white coral sand. There are areas on some of the flats that have fields of orange coral on them though. The weather here, averages 84 degrees and moves no more than one or two degrees in either direction. Other than that, it's the same temperature, day and night, 365 days/year. Rain on this Atoll is virtually non-existent, and there isn't a trace of humidity, just the warm and ever-present Pacific trade winds.

Ahhh....we've finally landed at Christmas Island International Airport - all four rooms of it. The rooms from left to right are baggage, customs and immigration, a waiting room, and a small office. Yeah, you could sneak a bomb through this place without even breaking a sweat. We get everything squared away with customs and we're off to New London, which is the main village of the Atoll. We get into a small truck with Bud and Bogie and spend the next hour riding down a pretty rough road. We soaked up some scenery and spent some time chatting with Bud and Bogie (that's Bud in the back of the truck). They were to shack up at a new place called The Villages, which was about 10 miles south of New London. We would not see them again until the return flight. We arrive late afternoon at our digs for the week and a short while later, we were met by our guide Michael to discuss the next day's plans. We decided Bonefish would be the order of the day. We kicked back and readied our gear while our hosts cooked us up a wonderful first dinner. Our hosts prepared and packed lunch for us each day. There was always more food than we could possibly finish. Most of it was very good, but I'm not a big fan of over-easy eggs (I like them cooked), which is what we had the first few mornings.

One thing we found out after seeing one is that you have to check your flats wading shoes every morning for Centipedes - these things are huge and Michael told us he has been bit and it is very painful, head to toe.

Dem Bones Mon!

We set out bright and early the first morning of fishing. Our vessel for the week was a classic hand-built Polynesian outrigger canoe. It was sturdy, functional, and would serve us well throughout the week. We would find out just how well-built these things were later in the week when we went to a place called Wahoo alley.

On our way out to the first flats (Poland flats), our guide introduced himself formally, as well as Russ, our boatman at the stern. Russ did not speak English at all, so we had to translate through our guide Michael when we wanted to ask him something. After hearing some of the conversations, Ken mentioned that these names were probably chosen for the fishermen, as their real names apparently had too many syllables for the average person to grasp in a short time. After a formal introduction of everyone, including Ken and I, our guide took out a small notepad and started to read a prayer from it, which was quite interesting. I remember some of it - "today, when we go to sea, we will gain something new and we will leave behind something from our past". When we got to the first flats, we spread out. We would take turns with the guide for about an hour at a time. I was the first with Michael that morning. I opened my fly box, which held several hundred Bonefish flies I tied for the trip, and he selected the brightest orange fly in the box - Moana's Chili Pepper, which was invented by a head guide at Christmas Island many years ago.

It wasn't long before Michael spotted the first Bones - a pair. It's been over two years since the last time I saw a Bonefish in the water, which was the last trip Ken and I went on to Eleuthera, Bahamas. I could not see the pair at all, so I went by his directions on distance and vector. Strip...strip...stop. Long slow strip...boom! Fish on. That first Bonefish of a trip is always the most exhilarating. A lot of people wonder what makes this little fish so special, and until you've experienced this little guy making a single run the length of a football field, you'll never know. When it realizes it is hooked, it typically makes a single long uninterrupted run like someone lit a fire under its butt. We took pictures of the first two Bones and then avoided it after that. The slime you rub off of a Bonefish when you handle it normally is replaced in two weeks and is not a problem in most destinations. However, at Christmas Island, the Bonefish shares its crib with hungry Blacktip reef sharks and the formidable Giant Trevally, both of which feed on smell as well as sight, and without its protective slime, the sharks can smell it from great distances.

One thing that really surprised me about Kiritimati is the intensity of the sun. You really need to cover up here. I've been up and down the Caribbean and Central America and have never seen a sun this intense. You may notice Michael and I wearing bandannas over our faces. The sun is so intense that the reflection off of the bright white coral sand burns the inside of your nostrils and the underside of your jaw. I kid you not when I say the sun laughs at 30 SPF here.

A short while later, Michael was about 10 yards to my right scanning the flats for our next target, when I spotted a single zig-zagging across. I started my backcast - one, two and put the fly out about 6 feet in front of its path of travel, did a few short strips and boom, another Bone. Michael came over and asks - you saw him? I smiled and said - "yeah, I got my Bonefish eyes back". He asks if he can go to Ken and I said yeah, I'm good now. As the day went on and my Bonefish eyes got better, I began to see what the fuss was really all about. I've never seen so many Bones cruising in my life.

Later that day at a different flat, Michael and I ran into a large number of very small Blacktip reef sharks - mostly the same size of the Bonefish. The guide said it was a place that sharks use as a nursery. A short while later we ran into a Blacktip that was an adult - about 6 feet in length. I looked at Michael and said - "I hear these are really fun to catch - should I try for him?". Michael stated something to the effect of them being a real pain in the butt to land and release. I thought I'd try anyway, so I started to approach this shark and after a few minutes Michael said - "Stop, don't get any closer, that is a female, and they can get angry at you". So I took his advice and backed off, figuring we'd let her go about her business and concentrate on the Bonefish. I stopped and took a quick shot of her as she set about.

I've attached some photos so you can see just how difficult it is to see a Bonefish in its natural environment. The following photo is a Bonefish with just its head out of the water. The water is about 1.5 feet deep and Gin clear. Notice that its abdomen below the head that is exposed is nearly invisible, and this is a shot from a few feet away, under my hand. You need to be able to see these from up to 60 feet away, and in bright overhead sunlight. That's part of the allure to Bonefishing, is that it's a sight game, and you must hunt by vision for them. The next two photos to the left are of another Bonefish, zoomed out, and then zoomed in much closer. This fish was only about 15 feet from me at the time. He probably didn't see me - my pants are light like the sand, my shirt is turquoise, matching the backdrop of water, my bandanna blue like the sky and my hat light again, like the clouds. When I stand - I look like my surroundings. By the way, this is the only place that I've ever Bonefished that you can get this close to them. On the Turtle grass flats of Belize, you can't get closer than 50 feet from them or you'll spook them half-way to Mexico. This fish is a master of disguise - it has to be, or it's lunch. To me, finding and catching a Bonefish with a fly you made is the ultimate high. I've always had a passion for this fish. It's difficult for a lot of people to understand why, and mostly because it's a small fish. To me, it holds a mystery to be unlocked, and part of that mystery lies in how mother nature crafted this fish. It is primitive by any measure, much like the Tarpon, but has evolved to become a cunning hunter of the flats. Watching them patrol the flats is best described as "methodical". The other part is the culture. Since as far back as I can remember, I've loved the tales, the travel, the adventure, the excitement, and the technical complexity involved with pursuing this species.

I leave you with this perspective before I turn this post over to Ken. This photo sums up why I do this. No noise, no traffic, no shopping centers, no lines (I mean shopping lines, not fishing lines), no deadlines, no billowing diesel, no signs, and most of all, not a single Starbucks for 1400 miles. This is what it looks like to have stress melt away from your body. It is a rejuvenating experience for me each time I'm lucky enough to do this.

[Ken] Thank goodness for our guide, Michael! It took me a long time to be able to spot Dem Bones. Since there was only one of him and two of us, I found myself having to spot them on my own. I loved stalking them on my own. I'm sure I only saw 20% of every fish in front of me.

[Ken] My first fish on the flats was a GT. Actually, I didn't land it but it had to be my most memorable hook up. Michael spotted it first (of course) swimming directly at us saying and pointing, "GT, GT." I spotted it close and made my cast. I was tossing a small Christmas Island special on a 7 wt. I dropped it to the side of the fish, it turned, Michael yelled "strip!" and I was on. I was not ready because I had never hooked into a GT before and this was a small one, maybe 15-20 pounds. In less than 5 seconds I was into my backing and the line continued screaming off the reel. Unfortunately, it broke off but I will never forget the power of that fish. Later, I did hook into and land a much smaller GT. It too took me into my backing. What a great fish!

[Ken] The bones were just as fun. I got better at spotting bonefish and I did land many, many bones. I even made many blind casts into deeper water and hooked up. I enjoyed this as well because I had to feel for the exact moment to strip set the hook. If I was too early or too late, I missed the fish. What I found interesting was that I could not get a bonefish to bite unless I was using a fly that had some orange on it. I tossed yellow banana peel flies, tan turd flies, yellow Christmas Island specials and I did not get a fish. I caught many bones on many different flies, however, they all had some magic orange.

The Yellowfin Tuna (Ahi)

Yellowfin are widely considered to be the most prized of the tunas among sportsman, and they are also the tuna of choice for Sushi and Sashimi. They have a much higher metabolic rate than Bluefin, Blackfin, Longfin, and Bigeye, and most of that is due to the fact that they are Epipelagic, meaning they spend most of their time in warmer tropical waters and generally in the top 300 feet of the water column where photosynthesis can occur. It is this higher metabolic rate that gives the Yellowfin more stamina, strength, and speed than other tunas. What's cool about heading outside of the lagoon, is that the international time line runs right by the entrance of the lagoon. So what that means is that when you go outside of the lagoon into blue water, you catch fish, and then when you get back to the lagoon you say - "this is what I caught tomorrow", because it's 24 hours difference - just like that. Really cool.

We set out in the morning much like we did other mornings, by taking a leisurely ride outside of the lagoon and into the blue water. The ride out to the Tuna grounds is only about a half hour. Once we started to get into the deeper waters just outside of the mouth of the lagoon, a huge pod of Spinner Dolphin appeared and started swimming, leaping, and playing all around the outrigger. It was an incredible sight - just like you see in the movies, with them criss-crossing and porpoising right in the wake of the boat at the bow and at the outrigger itself. So we finally get to waters about 200 feet deep and started trolling to locate fish. What's really remarkable is that 50 -100 lb Yellowfin tuna are swimming just offshore, and I mean at a distance that from our line of trolling, you could jump out and swim to shore. There are only a number of places on earth where you can find Pelagic tunas this close to shore. Most of this is due to the fact that the Atoll is steep on its sides and there is no other notable structure on the ocean floor for nearly 1400 miles. We were on the south side of the Atoll, where it slopes a little more gently than the north side, where it plummets thousands of feet right offshore. The tuna fishery here is incredible. Each day that we decided to go out for tuna, it wasn't even a question as to whether or not we would get into fish, and it was more a question of "what else will show up?". These very same waters we were trolling over held many species of fish, including large oceanic barracuda, Wahoo, and billfish (several types of Marlin and Pacific Sailfish). It's like a box of chocolates - you never know what you're gonna get.

While the tuna fishery here is mostly a trolling game, we did get our shot at huge schools of Yellowfin mauling bait balls on the surface. It's very difficult to do this in such a small vessel, with very fast moving fish, and the ocean swells. Now as for what it's like to catch these Yellowfin; I think Ken said it best when after a long fight with one of these he leans back onto the gunwale at the stern and says - "I don't ever wanna do that again". These fish have some kind of endurance to pump away at you for what seems an eternity. Getting them up from the depths is half the battle - when they sound, they head deep for cover. Then when you finally get them to where they're visible - about 20- 25 feet under the boat, then they start a continuous pattern of pumping their tail around in circles. Around and around and around and around. This is the toughest part and where the lower part of your back takes such a beating that it feels like a cold steel blade running between your vertebrae. Ken found it better to lean back against the gunwale as much as he could to take the weight off of his back. Most of the time, I was out on catwalk of the outrigger. I had to do that to make sure the lines kept clear, as double-headers came often. The problem with standing on the outrigger, is you have nothing but a small railing on one corner that is not suitable to lean your body weight against, and it's open in the front, so you're basically doing stand-up with these things. At some point fighting one of these beasts, I broke my Albright travel surf rod. First, let me say that it was all operator error and not the rod. My back was in so much pain on one of these puppies at the point where it was just doing its thumping thing in circles under the boat that I decided to just give it one last haul and get it over with by getting it high enough so Michael could reach it. We heard this explosion and the first section of the rod shattered. The classic "high stick", and something that I of all people preach against. Anyway, I landed that fish and one of the funny things the rest of the week was that I landed many more big Yellowfin on this rod. The guide (and even Russ) laughed at me every time I hooked up with one. I laughed back one time and said - "all I need is this reel, and I'll get him up". That wasn't far from the truth - the Fin-Nor Offshore reel had 580 yards of #80 super braid, an #80 fluorocarbon shock tippet, and a stack of dollar sized drag discs that can put a solid #65 of drag on the fish.


As mentioned previously, you never know what you're going to get out there. Ken wound up with the wild card fish - a Skipjack Tuna aka "skippie".




[Ken] I had the best time trolling. I didn't think I would enjoy it as much as I did. As Angelo mentioned, we knew we were going to hook up so it was never boring. I used a Quantum Boca 70 and it did great. I had a blast hooking into 60 lb tuna and watching line rip off the reel. For my next Christmas trip, I would, however, move up a reel size to handle BIG GT. I don't think the 70 holds enough line even if it is braid.

The following video is Ken landing one of the Yellowfin.



I'm not a big fan of keeping fish (most people know I'm a catch-and-release guy), but we didn't have much of a choice here. Life is hard for a lot of the villagers and they keep the Tuna that the clients catch and distribute it among the villagers when got back each day. We had plenty to eat as well.

Blackened, Boozed, and Raw

So at some point during all of this fishing, we got hungry. Actually, I was having so much fun that if our guide didn't ask to stop for lunch, I probably wouldn't have missed it. While we had lunches packed every day, we didn't necessarily eat it each day. Just because we were some 6,000 miles away from home in the middle of the Pacific ocean, it doesn't mean we didn't have some of our familiar comfort foods with us. Take for example this can of Coke. Is it really "the real thing" or not - you be the judge.

So one might ask what one does with all of this fresh Yellowfin tuna swimming around you and nobody else but you in sight to catch them. Well, the simplest thing to do is drag one on board, lay it on its side, cut a nice juicy loin out of its flank, and prepare some fine Sashimi - old school style. We had fresh Sashimi for lunch and/or brunch several days, and boy was it good. I eat Sushi about once a week at Ooka in Doylestown and have tried Sushi and Sashimi at some fine Japanese restaurants in downtown Philadelphia, but I've never tasted Ahi this good in all my years of eating it. It actually had a very clean citrus-like flavor to it, with little or no odor or strong taste to the palate. It was more like "soft" as I would describe it. It also didn't leave any aftertaste. It was really interesting watching Michael prepare the Sashimi dish. Michael had brought some of his own personal Wasabi and Soy sauce on the boat. With lack of containers for the sauces, Michael would take a coconut and proceed to strike it evenly all the way around with a large thick stick (this was the billy we used to put the lights out on the tuna), and then break it in half, making two primitive bowls for use.



This video is my first attempt at video from my Olympus digicam, so I accidentally shot it at low resolution - it's still OK though. This shows the entire process of turning a Yellowfin into Sashimi and also shows Ken and I chowing down on some.

Coconuts, being the predominant vegetation on the island, also made for a natural high-energy drink. Michael would prepare them for us and then stick them in the cooler. There's actually like a more than a pint of milk in these things - I was surprised. If you don't finish the whole thing at one sitting, Michael cuts the cone-shaped stalk protruding from the bottom of the nut and it makes a natural cork for the hole on top of the nut. The cork works surprisingly well - I turned my nut over and the milk didn't leak out.


One afternoon, we set about to find some Giant Trevally after a day of Bonefishing the flats. Michael took us to a deep channel that connected two large areas of flats. This channel had a very strong current and was very deep. Apparently, the most effective technique to fish this channel was to chum it, so Ken and I were commissioned with our Bonefish rods and flies to catch enough small saltwater Perch to make a chum slick with. As we were catching them, Michael brought them over to Russ, who apparently started a fire in the scrub brush. It turned out that he was cooking the Perch that we were going to chum with. We thought that was rather odd, so Ken asked and why. Apparently they do it because it releases a lot more odor into the water, or more precisely, a stronger odor. So I get this one Perch on the end of my line - and just to put some perspective on this, they're about the size of a very small Bluegill; the next thing you know it runs under the coral shelf overhang that we were standing on top of and all of the sudden my 8wt starts to bend in half. I yell out to Ken - "yo man, these things fight like hell". I don't think Ken was looking at my rod when I said that and he said - "yeah, I was surprised too". I was like "no man, this is crazy - there's no way this fish is fighting like this". That's when Michael comes jogging back from delivering more Perch to Russ and yells - "Grouper!". It was then that I realized that I dropped the hook from the Perch and a Grouper that was hiding under the shelf picked it up - all within a very short period of time. So what turns up is a nice size Grouper. Michael takes it and gives it to Russ. I thought - maybe they're going to make more chum with it. That was not the case and they actually cooked it for us to eat, by wrapping it in broad leaves found on the small island we pulled off on and blackening it over the fire. The following video is of Michael preparing the Grouper after it had been blackened and serving it to us for a late afternoon snack. It was quite tasty I must say.



Long story short, we didn't find any GT there, but there were so many birds that I kept lining them or hooking them with the fly rod on both back and forward casts. Most of the birds at this spot were Frigate birds, and there are tons of them there. It was like a scene out of a Hitchcock movie. I found that normally when I would line one on the forward cast; the line would drop over the bird's shoulders and would start to drop from the weight of the fly line, so I tried using the same technique you would use to throw a loop through a garden hose and flip it over something - it worked like a charm. At one point, and as you can see from the photo, I began to think the birds were attacking Ken. I turned to see him ducking right and left like a boxer. It looked like the birds were working Ken ;-)

Back at the ranch, there were some other interesting foods, or should I say beverages. The beer isn't bad, but definitely different than anything I've ever tasted. The choice in beer was limited - they only had one on the island. It's an Aussie bitter called XXXX, and yes, as I can attest, that does imply its alcohol content. These were not cheap, and we had to pay our host for them - it was an honor system. These go down dangerously smooth in this type of environment. There was no liquor on the island, period. If you wanted it, you had to bring it, so Ken and I smuggled a fifth of good Rum. Unfortunately, fresh juices are tough to come by on the island, so we ended up mixing the Rum with this orange drink stuff that kinda tasted like Tang. It was quite good.

One funny thing that happened on the island was finding out what made the thumping noises we heard all night long. One morning really early and before sunrise, we were both standing in the room and heard the thump again. Ken looks at me and says - "I know what that is now, follow me". So I follow him outside and he starts walking around all the coconut trees in the dim light, then he walk behind one and picks a coconut off of the sand and says - "this is what is making that noise". I said "no way man", and just as I said that, one landed right next to us - thump!

Darwin's Playground

The wildlife on Christmas Island and in its waters is simply amazing. We were fortunate enough to see a lot of birds on the island. Ken took this great shot of a Frigate bird one day.

[Ken] The boat dropped me off on some random flat to catch some bones. When I turned around, the boat was gone. It had disappeared to drop Angelo off somewhere. In the distance, I saw a small dot in the sky. The dot was coming towards me and it didn't stop unitl it literally was about 8 inches from my head. The birds on Christmas really like checking things out.



I got a shot of this awesome-looking Boobie, which an avid birder at work told me was a Masked Boobie. He thought this is one of the best shots ever taken of a Boobie. I think it captures this bird's personality perfectly.


Not all encounters with these birds went so well. The Boobies apparently like the flies and lures as much as the fish do, and they would often sweep down and pluck your lure or fly from the ocean. At one point Ken almost had a double header of Brown Boobies. One got hooked on a lure he was trolling and its mate came down to help it and got itself caught briefly, but managed to get free. Ken had to reel the Boobie in and Michael was able to remove the hook from it and release it.

Below is the video of Ken hooking up with the Brown Boobie. This was also accidentally shot on the lowest resolution, but you can still see what's going on. Also, you can actually hear a little of the native Gilbertese that Russ and Michael as speaking in this video.

[Ken] What was interesting about catching this bird was that I caught it while trolling a Rapala CD14. These things get down fairly deep. Well, not deep enough. From high up, the bird took many a dive at my lure and eventually grabbed it.



The dolphins were cool - I never got tired of seeing them. They're just all over the place zig-zagging, jumping and spinning, belly-flopping, etc..








The following video is a short clip of the Spinner Dolphins having some fun around the outrigger early one morning when we were heading outside of the lagoon.

Ever hear of a man with a hook hand?

So one afternoon, we were out against a reef that usually holds GT and a rather large rip that forms over it. Ken and I start banging away with poppers. The waves coming up over the reef are actually pretty darn big. I had my popper coming down the face of one when - boom....GT on. I was out on the end of the catwalk of the outrigger and Michael was busy at the back of the boat, so I landed the fish myself and dragged it onto the wood deck. So the GT starts to go nuts on me. I still had my rod in one hand and in attempt to subdue the fish, one of the very large trebles (7/0) caught my thumb. Yup, you guessed it - I didn't smash the barbs down. I looked at it and it looked like the barb wasn't down through the skin yet, so I dropped the rod thinking I'd just yank it out quickly, but the GT did one big flop on the deck and that was all she wrote - the point that entered at the first joint was now just about to poke out of the front of my thumb. About a million things went through my head at that point. I knew before we even got to Christmas Island that this is not the type of place you want something like this to happen. I knew I had a pretty big problem on my hands, but an even bigger problem is having about a 20lb GT still alive and still on the other treble. The popper it was on was huge, so I grabbed the top of it with both hands to prevent the fish from ripping the hook violently out of my hand. At this point, I don't think they knew yet what was going on at the back of the boat, so I yelled back - "Ken, I've got a problem here". The fish is still going nuts at this point and now I have Michael also holding onto the top of the popper. I yelled to Ken - "get the orange tool bag in my duffel - and grab the multi-tool, it has Carbide cutters". Trying to cut these trebles was useless - I made sure I put the strongest trebles and split rings made on my plugs before I came to Christmas - Owner ST66 7/0 Stinger trebles and 180 lb Owner HyperWire rings. I had 4 pliers in that bag and kept yelling to Ken to try another one. I was sure the offshore wire rigging pliers I had would do the job, but the wire of the hook around the eye was such a large diameter that it wouldn't fit the cutter on the offshore pliers. At this point, Russ had gotten the outrigger far enough away from the rip that he could come up and help. He brought a big pair of linesman pliers up that was completely rusted. It looked like it could do the job with those massive jaws, but it couldn't, and Russ was cranking as hard as he could with both hands until they were shaking. At this point, the fish is still going nuts, so I yell - "someone kill the damn fish". Michael beat it on the head many times, but GT are tough fish, so finally, he takes a pair of needle nose pliers and sends it right through one of the eyes and almost to the other side. So we still have a hook in me and on the fish. I told Ken to just grab the split ring pliers and work the ring off of the popper. After we got the hook off, I knew we still had a big problem. I tried pulling the hook as hard as I could, but it was just embedded so deep into the muscle that it wouldn't budge. We packed all the gear and headed back to the village. Michael said they had a guy at a clinic there that could take the hook out.

Back at the village, our host brought me to the clinic, which was nothing more than a concrete bunker with no doors, and a few large rooms that were nearly empty. I looked down the hallway and saw people lying on the floor in a fetal position moaning in pain. I'm not going to go into the details more than that, but when I got back from this incident, I said to Ken - "you have to pray you never suffer a real injury here on this island - because you will die or lose a limb for sure". This is why we got the air evacuation insurance for this trip. Anyway, so I'm standing against the wall and this short dark-skinned man wearing nothing more than a brightly colored towel comes over and starts talking to another gentleman that was there. This was apparently the doctor, and could not speak English, so the other person translated for me. After looking at my hand, the doc says something to the other guy and then looks at me. I ask the other dude what he said and he says - "he wants to know if you brought any painkillers with you". I thought - great, this is going to be fun. I knew right then that this thing was coming out "old school" style. After a while, the doc (without gloves, or even washing his hands) grabs a single edged razor, unwraps it and starts to hack away at my hand while the other guy is holding my wrist down on the chair. I got a little worried because this guy was like 90 years old, looked like Yoda, and was shaking like crazy. It turns out that he apparently knew what he was doing. He kept telling the other dude that he had to go slow because the barb was under a tendon and nerves and didn't want to cut them. At this point, I had blood dripping down my hand and onto my pants. After about 20 minutes, he finally got it out and we wrapped it with some tape that I brought with me in a small medical hit. That was it - done. So I ask the dude that was translating - "how do I pay him?". After a short conversation between the two, he says - "he wants to know if you have American dollars". I indicated that I did and then he says - "twenty". I looked at him a little strange, but didn't argue - I said no problem, I just have to come back with the money because I don't have any on me right now. Michael came over that night and asked if we were good and I said - we're good to go fishing tomorrow AM. By the way, when I walked out of the place and started leaving, the dude that was translating came running out and gives me the treble back. I thought cool, it's in great shape, I'll just put it back on. I figured it would bring good luck. It apparently did, as it is this very hook that landed me a world-class fish the next day.

The Giant Trevally

Ahhh, the Giant Trevally, aka Caranx Ignoblis. These were a lot of fun on the edge of the flats. The first pair I saw was on our first day out on the Bonefish flats. Our guide Michael had the 12 weight and he was with Ken about 100 yards to my right. I didn't have enough time to try to get a shot with my 8 wt before they cut left and started to head toward Ken. I yelled over to those guys to warn them so they could get a shot off. I think one of these two is the one Ken hooked up with. I remember him telling me the thing just shot off like a rocket and didn't stop, and that there was nothing he could do except watch it snap the relatively light Bonefish leader.

They don't show up all the time, so you either have to be prepared with your guide holding a ready 12 weight or you have to pursue them exclusively. We stopped at this one flat that had deep edges to the water and Michael and I set off to find some GT. We didn't run into any large ones, but we got into some smaller ones like the one in this picture. They're a blast to catch with a popper. you just toss into the dark water and strip hard. You'll soon see a bulge of water behind your popper - these guys have a tall head and they push a lot of water out of the way. It kind of looks like a submarine surfacing. When they strike a popper, there's no mistaken it - these things have a mean set of jaws and a hell of an attitude. I never thought I'd find a fish that could kick a Bluefish's butt in a fight, but these things probably could.


One day, we stopped over a very deep reef on our way out to the blue water to catch some tuna and we started popping for GT. Apparently, early morning is the best time for big GT. The water was fairly featureless and we were popping for a while. We did get something blowing up on them occasionally, but no hook ups. I think I actually bumped a giant manta ray with the popper too, as they were flying by us in good numbers. I was at the stern fanning casts. Then I took a super-long cast, and started to pop. The Yo-Zuri Surface Bull GT popper is massive and makes a huge commotion on the water. The water was fairly calm and I had my eye on the popper the whole time, then all of the sudden - boom. I saw something strike it from directly underneath and exit the water completely before doing a giant belly-flop on the water. It was the most violent thing I've ever seen a fish do. I clearly remember yelling out - "Oh my God, what the hell is that?" - my heart nearly stopped. The game was on, and the line just started going, and going, and going. I laid into the drag pretty good since I knew I had 80# braid mainline but it just kept going like it didn't even know it was hooked. I had 580 yards of line on that Fin-Nor Offshore reel and I was coming really close to the spindle. I thought that the only thing I could do was bottom the drag and try to stop him before he took it all, so I did and just held the rod as it pumped. I remember Ken looking over and saying - "Dude, I'm gonna get spooled if I get one of them". At this point, it's just a game of attrition - something has to give -either the fish or my gear. Michael came over to me at one point because he noticed this creaking noise that was coming from my reel. I thought it was the drag, but the spool was locked down on nearly 65# of drag. Michael moves his hand over to my rod and takes his forefinger and thumb and slightly pinches the line, then looks at me and says - "the line". It was apparently the braided filaments moving in the carrier of the line making that creaking noise. I looked back at Michael and said - "Don't worry, it'll hold". I did a year's worth of research on GT before I came to Christmas Island and I can't tell you some of the horror stories I've heard. I called this one guide when we were shopping for outfitters. After a brief discussion of GT, I said "I plan on bringing a 12 weight and a backup rod to which he responded - "You better bring three or four backups if you want to mess with these things". I said - "You're joking", to which he responded - "I'm telling you; you might get into one that big, but you probably won't land one that big". So needless to say - I made sure I had the reel, the line, the knots, and the terminal gear that would stop this thing if I ran into one. After some time, the fish finally started to break and I was now gaining line on it. When it finally got about 20 feet under the boat and rolled over on its side, my jaw just dropped. This is what I came for - a world class Giant Trevally. Russ looked down and yelled - "Ulua". Michael comes over and looks down and starts laughing, then looks at me and says - "A hundred pounds". It took both Russ and Michael to get the thing in the boat - one by the tail and one by the mouth. Just to get a perspective on how fast this fish must have been coming at that popper from below - its entire body left the water with about 4 feet to clear before it belly flopped. After it was in the boat, I just yelled and started banging my fists against Michael's chest - I was livin'. A special thanks to Ken for getting this awesome shot. I know I can aways trust Ken with the camera - he never takes a bad shot, where I do occasionally. Big GT like this don't come very often, and I'm glad I got one without having to spend 10 years chasing it half-way around the planet. We released this fish unharmed - it lived long enough and deserved it.


To get a good idea of how powerful the jaws are on a GT, take a look at the popper. Those are holes punched though it from the conical teeth. Looking at the bite radius, you can see that it came right up from underneath. Take a look at the deep channels that are carved on its one side. This popper cost me $25, but it was well worth it. Notice the hook that got it was the one that went through my thumb - notice the two cut marks in the eye of the hook from when we were trying to cut it off when it went though my thumb. I had no reservations about putting that hook back on - I knew it was strong enough just from that experience.

A Random Walk

The following video is a 360 degree of the outrigger we were on. The waters around Christmas Island rival that of Bora Bora in Tahiti for its beautiful aquamarine color. It's a very photogenic place, and anywhere you go, you feel completely isolated and detached from modern society. I'd put this at a tie with the outer Atolls of Belize in terms of sheer beauty. It was a rare event for us to see another person from the time we left in the morning to the time we got back each evening.



The photo to the right is at the end of a day of fishing back at the harbor. Michael is our guide out front and Russ is leaning over the stern of the outrigger. This is what it's all about.






At night, Ken provided some entertainment for the local children with some juggling, magic tricks, and antics. The Gilbertese are very friendly people - not a lot of places I've been internationally that I can say that about - I have had some interesting situations in Central America in the past.

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