New Caledonia, Ulua Paradise
February 25th, 2011 | By Ocean Blue
Just got back from a great trip to the West Coast of New Caledonia organized by Ocean Blue Adventures. I went with my fishing buddy Gary from Wisconsin. We fished 6 straight days at two different locations; Nekweta Surf Camp in Bourail and Ouano Surf Camp in La Foa. If you don’t want to bother with the whole report you can scroll down to the pics.
This trip was almost exclusively focused on casting topwater lures for giant trevally, or ulua in Hawaiian. Remote spots like New Cal offer the opportunity to fish for them on topwater lures, which are very tiring to cast all day but offer an exciting visual when a fish comes out of the depths to smash your lure on the surface. There is really nothing that can prepare you for the violence of an ulua strike on a surface lure; both Gary and I struggled to hold onto the rod on quite a few of the initial strikes. Gary lost his balance and nearly sat in a bucket of hooks one time and I was halfway over the railing once when I wasn’t paying attention. When the fish smashes the lure it sounds like someone dropped a small car into the ocean. “Bone jarring strike” is a phrase that gets thrown around far too often in fishing, but this is one of the few times it is apt. If you are not careful you could probably get your shoulder dislocated or something. Even at the end of the week after many ulua strikes I was still taken aback by the force; it’s not something you can totally prepare for. I feel privileged to have experienced it; if there is anything better in sport fishing I would like to know about it.
Every now and then we took a break and fished for smaller reef fish on lighter tackle. That was pretty fun because the reef fish all fight pretty hard on light tackle and you never knew what you would pull up. We ended up with 20 different species including various groupers, coral trout, several trevally species, a wolf herring, and some other cool stuff.
The first day of fishing was really tough. I had a big ulua hit my lure in the morning and immediately found the weak spot in my knot and broke off. That was really disappointing, especially since it was avoidable. Next I hooked a large shark that stayed on for about 2 minutes before biting through the line. The rest of the day was pretty quiet; endless casting in the heat and not much to show for it; just two more ulua strikes that didn’t get well hooked and spit out the lure. The only thing I landed after hundreds of casts in the hot sun was a small grouper. That was a little disheartening but I’ve done enough fishing to know that things can turn around at any moment so I didn’t get too discouraged.
The second day we were out casting like fiends again trying to get something to stick. I saw some bait fish running from something so I cast my lure in front of them and was rewarded by an ulua grabbing my lure and trying to wrench my arm off. I was able to get him into the boat and was glad to have the “first ulua” monkey off my back. I had been waiting for many years for that moment. It was a relatively small fish; around 20lbs, but I was still ecstatic. The rest of the day we did a number on the grouper and other reef fish but no more ulua.
The fishing seemed to get better every day. I landed a pair of ulua in the 40lb class on the third day, 4 fish up to 40lbs on the fourth day, and three in the 60lb class in the last couple days. I ended the trip with 11 ulua landed, with the largest weighing 64lbs. That is the largest fish I have ever caught while lure casting; I have caught many fish larger than that but they have either been on bait or trolling. I actually caught 3 ulua around that size this trip. Gary only landed 3 ulua all week but his largest was an 80lb beast. He did better on the other species than I did, including the largest barracuda I have seen in person. We both lost at least 3 big fish per day for various reasons – cut the line in the reef, spit the hook, etc. That is pretty unavoidable in this type of fishing. My largest fish was hooked in the last half hour of our last day in very shallow water and kept trying to head into the coral bommies that dot the lagoon. Our guide would gun the motor and try to race to the reef before the fish, which would cause it to turn and head in another direction. I was worried that it would get in some rocks and cut the line, and it did briefly get into some but I was able to get it out. It was quite exciting chasing the fish all over the lagoon before finally getting it into the boat.
Whenever we caught an ulua the guide would measure it and then tag it for study. The fish are treated very carefully which was nice to see. They all swam away in good shape. We only fished artificial lures with barbless hooks and released everything except the occasional small reef fish for dinner. Our French guide Etienne was a great guy and a great guide. He had no problem putting in the extra time to find fish. One of the best guides I have fished with. His English was not perfect but it was passable and we were able to communicate ok the whole week.
For tackle I used a Smith Komodo Dragon rod for poppers and a Carpenter Coral Viper rod for stickbaits. Both rods handled both the casting and the big fish perfectly. Paired with the rods were two Daiwa Saltiga Dogfight spinning reels which were ideal for this type of fishing. We fished 200lb mono leaders with the poppers and 140lb for the stickbaits. Best lures for us were the Orion stickbaits in black and Heru Cubera 125 poppers in red head/green body. Gary’s big fish came on a bright orange Halco popper. My biggest fish was caught on a Nomad Skipjack popper that was retrieved rapidly to skitter across the surface. For the lighter tackle stuff I used 20-40lb class custom baitcasting rods from Performance Tackle in Long Beach. One of had a Daiwa Pluton 200 reel and the other had a Shimano Conquest 400 reel, both spooled with 50lb braid. 30lb flouro leader was the minimum as even the small fish could bury you in the rocks. 50lb was safer but sometimes affected the action of certain lures. Etienne had some very good tackle available and Gary mostly used his stuff.
This sort of trip is definitely not for everyone. It’s a long haul to get down there and you need to be in good shape to hit the ground running and cast those big topwaters 8-10 hours a day. From a physical comfort standpoint it was not great. The sun baked us a lot of the time (no shade on the boat to provide more room for casting; got burned despite religiously reapplying SPF 50), the ocean was often fairly rough because of the wind (luckily no seasickness at all for either of us, but still hard to keep balance), and it rained on us now and again. I think I only had two showers with warm water the whole time. The bugs were prolific especially at the second place we stayed. Arms, shoulders, and back were sore pretty much the whole time from casting and fighting fish and I finished a whole bottle of Advil in a week. Not a trip to bring the whole family.
For both Gary and myself those things were far overshadowed by the fishing. Seeing the giant fish come completely out of the water to smash your lure and then chasing the fish around the reefs in crystal clear water while trying to hang on to the wildly gyrating rod is an experience that has no equal in fishing that I know of. I vividly remember the hookups for all 11 of the ulua I landed and I’m sure that will stay with me for quite some time. Our guide Etienne is trying to get permission to fish a remote spot in a new area and I hope to give that a try down the road. Great trip.
Dan Smith, Los Angeles USA
Posted in New Caledonia Reports, Uncategorized
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French folklore tells a story about Captain Cook stumbling upon the long island now called Grande Terre, in New Caledonia, when he was on his way to discovering Australia. In his haste to find the latter, he departed New Caledonia’s pristine waters without hoisting the Union Jack, thereby missing the opportunity to claim another jewel in the crown for the Queen of England. Alas for the Brits, the deed was subsequently done by the French, who relocated some of their convicts there to build a nation that has subsequently become rich in the cultures of both France and Melanesia, while its mountainous terrain produces quality ore, from which nickel and chrome are extracted. Cook certainly dropped the ball on that one – but all is not lost; New Caledonia is only a short flight away from the central east coast of Australia. In fact, a flight takes under two hours from Brisbane and three from Sydney. The other aspect of New Caledonia (and the one I went there for) is the incredible world-class sport fishing. It’s so good, in fact, that this was my fourth trip there.
The locals also have access to brilliant fishing. All along the coast, small craft ply close to the shore. Being the subsistence fishers that they are, enough to feed a family is caught in quick time. The west coast is where many of the released convicts settled and where their ancestors and other free French settlers made their home. It has extensive deltas running the length of the island, from the mountain bases to the gin-clear waters of the biggest lagoon in the world. That expanse of water is hemmed in by a barrier reef second only in size to what we have along the Queensland coast.
From the airport, Etienne’s first stop was Ouano, about one and a half hours’ drive north. Ouano is a surf camp, with rustic timber cabins, a bar and dining facilities perched on the beach fronting expansive shallow flats that lead out into the lagoon. The distant roar of surf reminds you that there are some big curls outside, rolling onto the reef, about 10 to 20km from the mainland. Swell permitting, you can get outside via a break in the reef and watch the depth sounder spiral out of control as the bottom drops away from 30m to thousands within a few kilometres. This reef gap, and others, are usually attended by flocks of birds working the schools of surface-feeding yellowfin tuna, Spanish mackerel and other pelagics, while below, the tooth brigade, in the form of dogtooth tuna, red bass, jobfish in green and rusty models and other ooglies pick up the crumbs. If going outside is not an option, all-weather fishing is available within the lagoon, which varies in depth to 20m and is bespeckled with sandy quays and islets along its length. On one trip, we had constant 20kt winds, but the lagoon was still comfortably fished, with excellent results. It’s no easy fishing though. Some of these fish are in the serious end of the weight-and-size scale, with giant trevally (GT) of 40kg relatively common. I have seen New Caledonia GTs that weighed 55kg.
And if it is not the size and number of the fish that wear you down, it’s the calibre of the tackle needed to take them on. Try the biggest and toughest spinning reels available, loaded with 80 to 100lb braid, 300lb trace line and split rings that still spread under the extreme pressure. Then there’s the 5/0 Owner treble hooks that fish bend, but you can’t, cast the biggest poppers available on the retail market. Suffice it to say, you might need some pre-trip gymnasium training to help maintain stamina. The upside is you will be fishing ‘gentlemen’s hours’ – 7:30am start and pulling the pin at 4:00pm seems to be the norm, something which seems to suit the average angler’s stamina. But all is not lost if you’re having trouble hacking the pace in the big league. The light-tackle prospects throughout this country are also world-class and anglers can fish as light as they like and even take to the healthy bonefish population to the north, with long wand and fly.
Back on the road, and an hour north from Ouano, we turn off the main drag at Bourail and a few minutes away is Nekweta Surf Camp. This unique Melanesian-style camp is set on a block a street back from the beach and from here Etienne accesses the pristine waters out to, and past, the reef system. As well as having runs on the board for big GTs, this area is also a haunt for barrel-like yellowfin tuna at the right time of year. My recent visit there turned up heavyweights from the coral trout family as well as GTs averaging 30kg, with the biggest nudging 50kg, plus the usual line-up of big cods and emperors keen to put a dent in our tackle supply. Most of the stunning gin-clear water we fished was only a metre to two metres in depth. It really is spectacular fishing when you get such big fish smashing surface lures right before your eyes in such a pristine environment. Equally fantastic is the hospitality shown to visitors by Stephanie and Manu, who built the Nekweta Surf Camp. Manu’s ancestors were convict settlers in New Caledonia and his knowledge of the country’s history and its ties to the Melanesian community are fascinating. The bungalows are built along traditional Melanesian styles, with a heavy accent on open living and richly-carved timbers. I felt embraced by the culture at Nekweta; it really was a highpoint of my trip.
Back on the road again and travelling north up the west coast of Grande Terre, I arrived at Malabou near the tip of the island. Perched on a calm beach in the shelter of islands that spread out into the lagoon, Malabou Resort is Etienne’s fishing base. I had the pleasure of spending a week there in 2008 and experienced the most amazing fishing ever, with sizeable GTs, yellowfin tuna and a whopping wahoo of 59kg on a spin stick! That was on top of jigged dogtooth tuna, puka-puka (rusty jobfish) and big groper from the shallow bommies. The bonefish flats are just 20 minutes drive from Malabou and, standing in the crystal clear shallows, the pristine islands to the north, that are yet to be explored by lures and poppers can be seen.
In 2009, Etienne established fishing at Poindimie, on the eastern coast of Grande Terre. It is the most densely populated community about midway along the island’s length. The reefs on this side of the island are broken up by large navigable passages between, offering more fishing around their circumferences than the long, unbroken strips of reef on the west coast. We had heard rumours about the quality of the fish on this side of the mountain range and were not disappointed, with GTs to 55kg (they were the ones we could land, there were bigger hooked that we didn’t) and various species of coral trout in plague proportions. There were Spanish mackerel to contend with, along with rainbow runners, a variety of cod species, and different members of the emperor family. It is also shark country and on occasion, it was a battle to wrest a hooked fish away from the toothies! We won nearly all of those fights, with only a couple of specimens filling spaces in the food chain.
So what else is there to like about New Caledonia? Lots! Partaking of the French cuisine rates near the top of the list and the island-grown beef is the best I have ever tasted, especially when enjoyed with some of the Bordeaux wines that can be bought at the local supermarket. If you’re a history buff, there are museums in many of the larger towns and, of course, if you want to ride world-class surf, this is the place to do it. Three golf courses in the southern half of the island will help keep you in the swing of things and if you’re feeling fit, there are specific trekking trails all over the mountains that will keep you in the fresh air. As well, there is diving, snorkelling, jet skiing, kayaking and sailing. New Caledonia: big on everything, fish included!
Lush green flood plains form a barrier between the towering rugged mountain peaks before they meet up with the sandy coastline. Coral reefs extending some 80 meters below the surface rise to meet the ocean swells, creating a mix of turbulent white-water and foam. Down below, a myriad of coral cays make home for some of the hardest and hungriest fish. This was New Caledonia, and I was here to marvel at its scenery and sample its finest fishing. After arriving in Noumea, we were greeted by our Skipper, Olivier Quach. Olivier, a very experienced guide in these parts, owns a 42ft purpose built Power-cat designed for both live-aboard and long-range fishing adventures. Having 7 anglers on the trip, Oliver also had another boat; an American designed 28ft Luhrs, also ideal for similar fishing adventures.



Ilja cast right to the strike zone, pumping two perfect bloops of the lure to provoke the biggest explosion we had seen so far. It was as if somebody dropped a 44 gallon drum into the water, and Ilja’s rod almost bent in half as it buckled under the pressure applied through 80lb braid. After a brutal brawl, Ilja brought what turned out to be a nice red bass to the boat. Although smaller in size to that of the GTs we were catching, pound for pound red bass just about have it over the more highly regarded trevs. I finally came to terms with what everybody had suggested before heading off on this trip and that was to go to the gym a few weeks beforehand. Unfortunately, I just nodded it off but now know only too well that will be a prerequisite for my next bluewater popping adventure. By day three, it was a real struggle to pry myself from my slumber. My shoulders were aching, back sore, and I swear my arms were and extra two inches longer. I can recall the nickname “nancy” being said a few times. Enduring another brisk morning walk along the ‘goat track’, Olivier, brighter and bushier-tailed than all of us giggled at the fact we resembled the dead rather than refreshed anglers ready to go another round. The first few casts were gruelling but after a short while every muscle loosened and it was back to the normal routine of flicking poppers and belting them back the boat. We’d worked a few reefs to no avail before setting our sights on a much smaller reef that didn’t break the surface. Approaching it, three poppers were launched, and both Dean and I hooked into red bass, while Ilja met his match on his third cast with a sizeable GT. Meanwhile, the occasional “GT, GT” was spoken over the 27meg each time the boys on the other boat hooked up.
To give myself a break between popping, I had packed a lighter rod; a Wilson Blade ’n’ Tails and Shimano Twin Power 6000 running PE3. This outfit was perfect for flicking Yo-Zuri 120 sinking Surface Sliders to the edge of the reefs. The most productive technique was to free-spool the lure for 20 odd meters, flick the lure back up the reef edge and it would invariably end up in a coral trout’s mouth. Aside from sinking stickbaits, trolling was also productive. From reef to reef you could travel anywhere from 500 meters to 5km’s, so to break up the boredom of motoring we opted for a spot of trolling to see what was around. Within seconds, Ilja’s Stella came to life but after 100 meters of braid was ripped from the spool, the hooks pulled. On the second attempt, a good hour or so had passed before the reel screamed for a second time. A solid green job fish devoured the Hydro Magnum, and although at around 15lb it was no match at all for 50lb braid, did highlight the lucky dip trolling such wild waters provides.
We had approached a smaller reef late in the day. Adjacent to it was another with a channel separating the two that looked incredibly fishy. Gerard didn’t speak a word of English, so sign language was the only way to communicate that we were keen to fish this spot. Gerard wasn’t keen at all, but eventually steered us toward it, albeit with a very hesitant look on his face. The current was pushing through here hard, making it a challenging task just to keep the boat in position while we made cast after cast in an attempt to raise a fish. Finally, a monster Spanish Mackerel chased down Ilja’s lure but didn’t take it, swimming just under the surface all lit up with black bands and silver flanks. The fish seemed to hang around for what felt like an eternity before casually swimming off. Lex, who’d so far been unlucky on the GT front, perched his popper right on the reef edge and with two vigorous bloops, raised 4 or 5 GT’s. Within seconds the fish were almost bunny-hopping over one another to devour the lure before one fish won the race and absolutely annihilated the fast-moving opper. Holding on for grim death, Lex instantly put the pressure on. “This one’s not getting off!” was his battle cry as the rod loaded uncontrollably before the fish went deep and began its characteristic pulsating circles. Scrambling to the marlin board, I reached down and in one foul swoop grabbed the fish in two hands and lifted it onto the deck. I can honestly say I’ve never before seen such smiles of relief, as Lex held up a GT that made the others look small.
Day five had come around quickly, and loading all our belongings onto the boats for our final day’s fishing almost cast a dampener over us all, yet we still had plenty of reef systems to fish on the journey back to Port Moselle. By this time, my body was screaming for the chiropractor but I wasn’t giving into it just yet. We approached the first reef of the day, flicking right around its southern flank but raising nothing but a few longtoms. In the distance, one section of reef looked really promising, so we made a B-line for it. A few casts later and half dozen fish swarmed over Ilja’s popper. One unlucky assailant grabbed it and in seconds had run a solid 50 meters without showing any sign of slowing down.
Holding on, Ilja lent back almost to a seated position as the fish rapidly changed direction and headed towards the boat. As Ilja gathered the line, the fish swung down deep, but was fighting against 8 kilos of drag which almost brought him to a tandstill and eventually planed him to the surface. “A yellowfin! A yellowfin!” Ilja yelled in excitement before landing the fish. “It’s taken me 14 years to catch a yellowfin and to hook it on a popper, now that’s brilliant”. Not surprisingly, Ilja had a grin from ear to ear. But Ilja’s day wasn’t over yet. Two or so casts later, another fish engulfed his popper. By this time, the back begins to become tender before heating up like a volcano, yet the determination to boat another fish on the last day was the only thing running through Ilja’s mind. To end the day on a high boating another 20 odd kg GT was a sensational effort, and put the last lick of icing on a sensational trip.


























































Kevin Power



