Starlo takes a bag full of soft plastics and a light spin rod to the top of Cape York in search of the answer to a simple question; just how effective are these 'flavour-of-the-month' lures in tropical waters?
As the sun climbed it was clear the bite had tapered. Terns with full gullets flapped inshore toward dark rocks lapped by water that
remained glassy ahead of the trade winds. A hot silence settled.Scanning the current licks out from Vrilya Point, I could still see an occasional splash. White detonations on blue. Scattered and sporadic.We drifted on the tide and my fishing buddy, Kay, cast his fly mechanically, arms tired from a week of hard fishing. The clock was ticking
down to the end of another memorable trip. Just one more fish was all I wanted. Always time for one more.I heard it as my head turned. A tearing slash. Rain patter of small bait. Thirty metres away, crossing fast from right to left. Two or three
big fish, bulging the skin of the water. The jig was airborne before I knew I'd made the cast and I was cranking as it landed. Halfway back the
rubber lure vanished in a jaccuzzi boil.It was one of those runs that kept getting faster just when you figured it should stop, and I wondered about the melting point of 10 pound Fireline.
Pulling the outboard's starter cord with one hand and angling the bow around to follow slowed the bleeding, but couldn't stem it. I'd lost a lot of line.I had to think Spaniard, and that was a serious worry with no wire, but when colour showed 15 minutes and a kilometre later, it was the gun-metal slug
of a tuna chugging hard. Not even a particularly big tuna.Nine kilo longtails must have hearts like Phar Lap's. This one refused to turn and flash its flank at the sky until it was nearly dead and I was slippery
with sweat. Knowing it was my swan song catch for the week, I picked up the gaff and took the shot, happy at the thought of sashimi on the aft deck as we steamed
for port. Neat end to a neat trip.Sitting alone on the mothership's foredeck an hour later, carving north east for Seisia, I studied the road map of small cuts on my hands, looking for an
abridged history of the week just gone. It was all there. Characteristic pin pricks in the palms from queenfish anal spikes, roughed thumb balls from too many
barra jaw grips, a couple of fading white tracks across my fingers courtesy of fast moving gel-spun. These were the index cards of a larger collection, the bulk
of it now stored on 13 rolls of exposed slide film in my camera case.I'd caught more fish on trips to these waters in years gone by, especially in the days when I eagerly cast at anything that swum, regardless of its size or species.
And I'd caught bigger fish on visits when I'd selectively hunted them with a fly rod. But overall I was more than happy with my results. In short, Operation Tropical
Squidgy had been an outstanding success. A VESTED INTERESTClearly, I had a vested interest in checking out the relevance of soft plastics for tropical sport fishing. Bushy and I have been involved for a couple of years
now in designing a range of Australian-specific softies for the Blue Fox tackle company (part of the Rapala/VMC organisation), and the first of these Squidgies had
just gone on the market. But my interest went well beyond professional and financial considerations. I wanted to know just how well this style of lure actually worked
in northern waters, and particularly how they stacked up against more conventional offerings, including natural baits, hard-bodied lures and flies.Of course, we already knew in principle that rubber lures worked a treat up north. I'd caught barra on Vibrotails back in the 1980s, and Bushy had taken plenty of
these fish on the same lures almost a decade earlier. In more recent times, I'd also enjoyed memorable sessions on a range of tropical estuary and inshore species
while flicking the original DOA Shrimp around snags and rock bars. In addition, there were the examples offered by switched-on Top End anglers like Wayne 'Disco Buffalo' Ross,
who'd won or placed well in a string of barra tournaments by using softies.But I still wanted to re-visit some tropical waters I knew well and to fish soft plastics intensively for a week or more in the company of competent bait, lure and fly
fishers. Only then would I get a clear picture of the overall effectiveness and viability of plastics in these northern seas.The destination I chose was my all-time favourite warm water fishing spot; that stretch of fish-rich coastline running southwards along the western side of Cape
York Peninsula, from the tip of the Cape towards Weipa. In particular, I had in mind the collection of estuaries, beaches, flats and shallow reefs strung out along what my
mate Greg Bethune calls the 'Crystal Coast' - from the mouth of the Jardine south to the Skardon River.So, I booked a trip with Greg and Jennie Bethune on their new live-aboard mothership "Tropic Paradise" (see the fact box hereabouts), packed my soft plastics, a spin
rod and a couple of baitcasters (instead of the usual fly gear), and headed north with an open mind and high hopes to seek some definitive answers. PROVING A POINTI'd gone to the Cape this time with two points to prove; that soft plastics could hold their own against conventional lures and flies in the tropics, and that their
perceived lack of durability was not a significant handicap, even in a hot sea full of teeth, fins and spines.In the end, I was more than satisfied I'd achieved a resounding thumbs-up on the first point, but had to admit the jury was still out on the second.By week's end, my tackle box was a lot lighter than it had been on the flight north and my collection of half tails and torn rubber body parts was impressive.
There had been a high attrition rate. Significant collateral damage, as the Pentagon would say.Doing the maths was interesting. If you figure on costs of around two dollars per jig head and a dollar or so per tail, I'd mown through at least a hundred bucks worth
of assorted softies. Maybe more like $120 worth. At the best discount prices, that amount might buy you 10 hard-bodied minnows and plugs, or maybe 20 good flies. Those
numbers certainly wouldn't be regarded as an unacceptable body count for a full week of hard tropical fishing.Still, I had to admit that for someone living in the far north and fishing regularly on a tight budget, plastics might be an overly expensive habit, especially compared to
bait or metal lures. But for a visitor from the south, was a buck or two a big price to pay for a thumping golden trevally, a hot-running tuna or a chrome-plated barramundi?
Probably not. NORTHERN LESSONSSometimes chucking rubber seems like a crazy way to fish. I doubted my own sanity on one occasion when I lost three soft plastic tails to three fast-moving toothy critters
in as many casts, without ever coming up tight. A few hours later I was grinning smugly as I buttoned into a big golden trevally while bouncing a rubber shad on the bottom during
a shut-down bite when no-one else was turning a reel. Swings and roundabouts. Highs and lows.Did I catch more fish on plastics than I would have done using a mixture of hard-bodies and flies? It's a line call, but I'd have to say yes. The versatility of jigs and their
outstanding effectiveness on certain species including tarpon, jacks, pikey bream and many reef fish certainly skewed the statistics in favour of the rubbers.There were some surprises, too, not the least of them the efficiency of soft plastics on fast moving pelagics like tuna. I'd guessed they'd work, but was amazed at how well.
To see what I mean, chuck an eight or nine centimetre rubber-tailed shad rigged on a 10 or 15 gram jig head in front of a fast charging school of bluefin or mack' tuna, wind the
reel at a moderate pace and hang on… Trust me, it's pretty deadly.So, were there any major differences between fishing soft plastics up north, compared to using them on common southern targets such as flathead, bream, bass and estuary perch?
Well, yes and no.In the estuary barra snags and over current-washed rock bars populated by jacks, fingermark and cod, I soon discovered a clear need for delivery vehicles that varied from the standard lead
head jigs in my arsenal. Strong hooks with light built-in weights, as opposed to heavy jigs, were definitely the go. Slower sink rates, longer 'hang times' and the ability to twitch a semi-suspended
plastic were all very obvious bite triggers.I caught fish on unweighted, Texan-rigged rubbers and Slugo-style stick baits, rigged with or without small bullet sinkers for added casting weight, but I've got to say that my overall hooking
rates were relatively poor on these larger plastics, especially when rigged to run 'snagless'. That's probably as much my fault as the gear's.Having now studied captive barra behaviour on softies in the Super Tank at this year's Sydney Boat Show, I realise I've often been much too keen to set the hook. These fish
will boof a rubber and happily swim around with it in their gobs for a minute or more before coughing it up (or swallowing it!). Delayed strikes could offer much improved connection
rates. I also have some different hook ideas I want to check out, particularly along the circle and wide gape lines… More on that in a future instalment!On the other hand, standard rubber-tailed jigs with exposed hook points were deadly effective up north on a whole host of fish and, in particular, really livened up drift-and-cast sessions over offshore broken rubble and reef patches in six to 10 metres of water. It was rare to go longer than five or 10 minutes without a solid bite, and I hooked a few customers that were decidedly unstoppable on 10 and 14 pound Fireline. Ouch!Although I took along heavier overhead tackle, I mostly found myself using the combination of a 4000-size Shimano Sustain eggbeater and that incredible Ian Miller Beast Buster flick stick I waxed lyrical about at such length in last month's "River & Sea" column. That sweet set-up was just so versatile, effective and fun to use, I was loathe to put it down, even when I ended up in the bear pit, hooking beasties well beyond its stopping power. Hell, you don't always have to win the fight to have a blast!The bottom line was this: There will now always be a spot in my tropical safari bag for a big box full of rubber tails, a bundle of jig heads and a do-everything spin outfit full of gel-spun line. The method is simply too much fun and too darned effective to be ignored. The MV Tropic ParadiseIt's no secret to readers of this magazine that Carpentaria Seafaris' live-aboard operation is my favourite charter business in the north of the country, nor that it's owners, Greg and Jennie Bethune, are
close personal friends. I'll happily admit that I'm completely biased in that regard, having enjoyed some of the most memorable fishing experiences of my life in the company of this
crew during the 15 weeks or so I've spent with them over the past 11 years.Until this season, all those trips had been made aboard the delightful old single-screw fibreglass cruiser "Capricorn Mist". I loved the "Mist" dearly, but over time I could also see her shortcoming. She was
painfully slow and, at just 12 metres, a bit on the 'squeezy' side with six passengers and two crew aboard.This year, all that changed, with Greg and Jennie taking delivery of their brand new mothership, the "Tropic Paradise". Built by Cairns Custom Craft, the "Paradise" is a state-of-the-art
19 metre (63 foot) alloy cat boasting powerful twin diesels, very roomy air-conditioned, twin-share cabins with berths for up to 12 passengers and every conceivable bit of electronic wizardry
needed to ensure the safety, convenience and comfort of that paying clientele. In short, the "Paradise" has brought Carpentaria Seafaris' soundly into the 21st Century!Little else about Carpentaria Seafaris' operation, apart from the mothership and comfort levels of the accommodation, has changed. The fishing is still done from fast, stable
4.5 to 5.5 metre fibreglass skiffs, the meals are still great and the calibre of light tackle piscatorial action on offer can, on its day, still match anything I've
seen anywhere else on the planet. Suffice to say I've made two trips this year and have already booked another set of dates for next season!
To find out more about Capentaria Seafaris, log onto their excellent Website at www.seafaris.com or phone Joseph Bethune in the company's Malanda booking office on (07)4096-5632 and ask for a brochure and video.
