Fly Fish with Mel: How to Equip for a Trip to Maldives - Fly Lines

If you thought that selecting the rod and reel was confusing enough, brace yourself for another headache.

Fly lines now come in a myriad of colours from translucent to downright gaudy. They float, sink, sink slowly, sink very quickly, sink partially and now even have multiple personalities. Fortunately, for us saltwater types, we need only pick from a small selection of an otherwise almost infinite choice.

Hot! Hot! Hot!

The Maldives bask in the sweltering heat of the tropics. Though water temperatures generally remain in the 20s(degree Celsius), the ambient temperature and some parts of the shallow flats may reach the high 30s at noon. This kind of temperature will cause traditional trout or coldwater lines to become useless. These lines typically use a single-strand monofilament core that will soften in high temperatures rendering the line unable to cast properly or turn a heavy fly.

So what you will need is a warm water or tropical line. These lines, unlike their coldwater cousins are built around a braided mono core that is capable of withstanding the incapacitating heat. Conversely, if you were to use this line in colder climates, it would stiffen to the point that the line may even crack.

Sink or Swim

So now that we've decided to get a tropical fly line, do we get one that floats or sinks? On my trips, I would take along and then choose one of three; floating, intermediate and a sink-tip.

I would normally choose a floating line if I'm fishing the surf or over very rocky drop-offs. This is to prevent the fly line from fouling in the rocks when I'm struggling with the waves, as the line remains on the surface. It also facilitates an easier pickup for a quick forward cast when a target of opportunity suddenly appears. A floating fly line with a heavy fly, for example, a deep clouser minnow, tied on will tend to lift the fly up when stripped. A 'strip-and-pause' retrieve will impart a more vertical jigging action to the fly. By changing the retrieve to a doublehanded straight retrieve, the fly will leap off the bottom and then swim straight, usually, nearer the surface. With this setup, I'm usually targeting the coral species like wrasses, groupers, emperors and GTs. My choice is either a Monic Tropical Floating Line (clear) or a Scientific Angler Bonefish Floating Line (Horizon)

If I am to be fishing mostly sand flats with scattered coral patches, I'd go for the intermediate line. The intermediate line sinks but at a slow rate of 1.5 - 2.5 inches per second. When targeting bottom feeders like bonefish and permit, you would want the fly to reach the bottom fast and for the fly to work near the bottom when stripped. A Crab fly or Crazy Charlie used with an intermediate line will quickly descend to the bottom, ready to attract the attention of a passing bonefish. If a streamer like a Deceiver is used, the line will keep the fly in mid-water even when stripped rapidly. should you be interested in using such a line, I'd recommend the Scientific Anglers bonefish taper.

As for the sink-tip, it's a combination of a floating line and an intermediate line. The main part of the line floats while the tip, translucent, sinks at a rate of about 1.8 - 2.0 ips. As I only have 6wt sink-tip, a Scientific Anglers Wet Tip Clear, I use it when I'm using my Winston XTR5 6wt. I normally use it near very deep drop-offs by the surf where I want my line to be floating but still want the fly to reach a deeper depth.

My choice of line thus depends on where I would be fishing that day. This, of course, means that prior knowledge of the terrain would be very helpful. In the absence of such information, I would go with the sink-tip as it is the most versatile.

Staying Connected

I use a braided loop on all my fly lines. This makes it easier for me to change my leader. If you don't want to be meddling with spools of leader and tippet, I would recommend using a braided loop and loop-to-loop connections. I keep pre-tied tapered leaders in small ziploc bags and change the whole leader whenever my tippet gets too short from changing flies.

Fly Fish with Mel: Return to Paradise (Maldives) Day 4

Day 4:



Day four had us cutting across the atoll to Dhiffushi, also coined by us, ‘Watermelon Island’. It used to be a watermelon plantation but now it has been converted to a coconut plantation. Once again, Mario met us at the island to join us for another session of flats fishing.

This day was going to be different from the rest as we had a lot of ground that we could cover. Arrangements were made for lunch to be served on the island. This would cut down our traveling time to and from the motherboat and give us more time on the flats.





As we got down to business, Gerard was again first off the start line with his second largest GT of the trip (pipping Michael’s fish at the scales). Walking along the shore, he spotted the critter plying the waters just by the shore. Casting a 4-inch, olive size 2/0 Clouser, the GT gave no quarter to the fly and took off for the wild blue yonder. Hardly breaking a sweat, the chunk of pure muscle stripped the fly line and then, the backing at a blistering pace.









But our champion of the flats was always up to the challenge with his 250m of PE4 backing. Letting the freight train tire itself out fighting not just the Able Super 6’s drag but also the increasing line drag in the water, Gerard put the brakes on the fish. Turning the tables around, he placed the fish on a one way ticket back.












True to its form, the fish never gave up fighting but it was a foregone conclusion as to who was going to win the battle. With a last gasp run, the GT had used up its remaining rocket fuel and finally succumbed to the triumphant Gerard. The victor then lifted his defeated foe quite ignominiously for photos; with his leg.








By now, I was getting really fed up with the fly line clip as sand kept getting stuck causing the clip to loose its grip. Besides that, the surf was pulling line out of the clip as well. So after a fruitless morning, while Michael and I were resting under a tree seeking refuge from the relentless sun, I came across a blue oil drum. Opening the cap, there was hardly any smell of oil so I dragged it to the water’s edge and flipped out my Swiss army knife. Making cut after cut, I managed to fashion a pretty cool makeshift stripping basket with two slots for my belt.





Next came the intensive scrubbing with sand to make sure that whatever leftover scum was cleaned. My Scientific Anglers 7-wt floating bonefish line was also pretty worn so I grabbed Wahab and had him send me back to our motherboat to get a replacement line. On board, I quickly whipped out my new Monic 7-wt Tropical Clear floating line and swapped the two lines.

I grabbed a couple of the ripe, yellow bananas hanging in the corner and back I went to shore. For those who have not been to the Maldives, it may be taboo to have bananas onboard in Australia, it certainly is not in the Maldives. Every trip begins with a huge bunch of green bananas hung up in a corner of the deck. As we travel, day by day, the bananas slowly ripen and thus we always had a steady supply of natural power food at least for the first few days.

Back on the island, I started casting with my new line and what a difference it made. I had line shooting out with ease. The slickness of the Monic line is incredible. Anyway, I changed tactics and started to concentrate on the small coral patches in front of me and plucked out fish after fish. There were honeycomb groupers,







paddletail snappers,
















long-nosed emperors,














swallowtail darts








and small bluefin trevallies. Nothing of commendable size but it was lots of fun nonetheless.

Lunch was served not long after. The crew had brought Tuna and Egg sandwiches, coffee, tea and milo. Wahab and Hussain even cut coconuts for us to drink. There was also the much needed odd can of coke or sprite, though it was never ice-cold. Noting that we had every one of the group and even Mario with us, we huddled together and got our apprentice photographer, Wahab, to take a few group shots. Then, after lunch, Mario left to keep his wife, Louise, company. She’d flown in a week earlier and would be leaving the same day as us.




Seeing my new stripping basket, Mah and Gan, got busy themselves and went oil drum hunting and get themselves a new basket each. We then trekked through the plantation to get to the other side of the island. Walking through the narrow well-worn path, we stumbled through the opening onto a small patch of beach that lined a very beautiful shallow lagoon with 'fish' written all over it.









Pairing up with Gerard, we waded to the middle of the lagoon, carefully following the whiter patch of water that charted out the shallow waters. I’m not sure if it was his polarized sunglasses or just his eyes but Gerard could always spot a fish way before I did and sometimes even when I couldn’t see at all. He saw the first Banded trevally beyond the glare and shot his clouser out.




One strip, two strip and he had the fish firmly hooked up. He said he saw a school of them feeding around but I could see none of them. So I continued to cast blindly until his fish came in. The trevally was of reasonable size but faced with the power of the 7-wt Winston XTR, it was only a matter of a few minutes before the fish succumbed to its power.





Out and under went the camera and a couple of clicks later, the fish swam happily away, albeit a little disoriented as it started to hide between our legs and around us before scooting off.








Around the middle of the lagoon, the water started getting deeper forcing us to turn left to comb towards the surf. Being in this position, meant that we could fish the outer depths of the lagoon and, at the same time, cover the inner, shallow areas.




It was my turn next. I saw the banded trevally very late but just as it was heading away from me, I cast to its left and slightly ahead. While waiting for the crab to sink, I twitched the line to gain the fish’s attention. Then, I started to strip the crab in with a moderate retrieve-pause-retrieve. I could see the fish turn and then pounce on the crab. Nothing beats seeing your quarry react to your offering.




That’s the magic of fly fishing! That moment of spotting your adversary, to the cast, to the retrieve and the point when the fish reacts to your fly, is something that we, fly anglers, lust for. The hookup is of course preferred but not necessarily as breathtaking as the take.






The feisty little fellow took me for a long ride, preferring to swim about in circles rather than in towards me. By the time I had it in my hands, it was almost on the verge of asphyxiating. I tried my best to revive the fish but each time I let it go, the fish would sink to the bottom.





Gerard came over and lent me a hand in reviving the fish and after 5 long, anxious minutes, the banded trevally regained enough strength to swim away. We both heaved a sigh of relief.




No more than 20 meters from where I’d caught my trevally, Gerard sighted another banded trevally, but this time, a mere 6 feet away from him, swimming towards him. He asked me to cast to it while he dragged his clouser in front of the fish. Without stripping or casting, the fish gulped down his clouser and hooked itself. This had had to be the easiest catch of the whole trip! He quickly landed the fish and let it off on its way.



Nearer the surf, we started to notice schools of turquoise parrot fish and rays swimming around but they were too spooky for us to approach or even cast our fly. So we sloshed our way to the surf in the hope of finding some nice GTs. This surf was very uneven with broken corals and loose rocks strewn around the seabed. I struggled with the pounding surf while Gerard cast away merrily. I will always remember an old friend telling me that I can only catch fish if my fly was in the water and not in the air. And so it was that Gerard, with his fly in the water, added another bluefin to his tally while I wrestled with my tangled line in the surf. Nothing big but strong nonetheless and it propelled itself past us and into the lagoon behind us before giving up.

We had not realized that Mah and Gan had followed us to the surf and were themselves into bluefin. As we headed back to the landing point, we left the pair in the midst of another bluefin blitz.

Fly Fish with Mel: Cracking the Peacock Bass Code

Branchu Turn On

After a 2 week hiatus, I woke up today with one thought. It's time to go fishing.


Shaking the remnant Z-monsters tugging at my eyelids, I took a hot shower that brought relaxation to a body tensed with anticipation.

As I stood beneath the constant flow of steaming water, my mind wrestled with the choice of bringing my 4-wt Coho rod teamed with a Scientific Anglers intermediate Stillwater line or my Sage SPL 0-wt, with a floating 1-wt line. As I mentally ran through the contents of my fly box, a single fly kept popping up. The Branchu. It had always raised me a fish regardless of how difficult the fishing was. Thus the decision was made.

I also enjoyed driving early in the morning. Being one of only a few vehicles on the road gives you a sense of solitude that is sorely missed in the hustle and bustle of city living.

Michael had already started fishing as I pulled alongside his parked car. I disrobed my rod and started assembling it while walking to the water's edge. Years of fishing on the run has honed our skills at rigging up while on the move. With only an hour or so to fish before we had to leave, we had to be rigged and ready to fish when we get to the water.

"G'morning! Anything so far?", I inquired.

"Nope.", came a short and sweet reply.

Michael was using a small popper as was Tan, whom, I could only make out his silhouette in the distance.


When I opened my fly box, a heavenly glow centered on the Branchu(Only for visual effect. The real Branchu fly does not glow). Tying it on with loop knot, the fly already looked a winner without having caught a fish.

Where do I cast?

The water was clear; devoid of weed. They must have just cleared out the weeds. Not a good sign. Along the banks, not a sign of movement betrayed the presence of fish.

Tossing the fly into the water, I started my casting stroke, remembering the personal training I had from Michael. "slow down your cast. Keep the rod moving in the same plane. Imagine yourself using a hammer." The words continued to ring in my mind as I tried my best to overwrite the bad habits I'd picked up in the past.

Though comfortable with casting, I wanted to bring my casting to the next level. I wanted to milk out another 20 feet and I wanted to improve my presentation of the fly. The conflicting instructions fired from my brains to my arms caused the fly line to trace wild loops in the air and then crashed ignominiously into the water. Numerous failed attempts finally led to me finding the correct rhythm to send the fly line and the Branchu out 50 feet.

The initial 5 minutes was disheartening, with not a single follow or take on my fly. Then, as the intensity of the morning light increased, I noticed a black shadow in the water not 10 feet from me. As the shadow turned, it materialized into a pair of Peacock Bass. I retrieved the line and with a gentle roll cast, placed the Branchu directly behind the pair. I waited for the fly to flutter down the water column and then with long, fast strips, worked the fly between the pair. The larger of two, lethargically moved out of the way. Seeing this, I lifted the rod to re-cast the fly.

As the fly sped up to leave the water, the other Peacock Bass, surged forward but missed the fly. One false cast and I relaid the fly behind the pair. This time, I changed the rhythm of the strip to a short but quick erratic retrieve. It wasn't long before I came up tight to a supercharged Cichla Monoculus.

This feisty little critter walked me all about for a good 5 minutes. Though it was no match for my 4wt outfit, it still did not give in easily. With a solid bend in the rod, absorbing each dash and headshake, I whittled away the raw power of the bass. It was no lunker but it sure gave a good account of itself.

By sheer luck, a long cast out got caught in a enormous bed of algae and weed. Snagged deep within it, I thought that I'd lost my fly. but slow and steady pressure saw to the return of my fly. The movement also revealed the edges of the weed bed.

So I sent the Branchu out again but this time on the periphery of the weeds. Waiting for the fly to sink, a PB burst out beneath a bulge and went airborne. If you've seen footage of the launch of a Polaris or Trident missile, you'll be able to picture this scene. The fish had taken the fly on the drop and catapulted itself entirely out of the water. Thankfully, the fish was not big and the shock of re-entry was handled by the 2X tippet. Having lost an enormous amount of energy in the jump, the fish did not take long to be subdued and released.

There were a few instances too when the takes were so ferocious that the PBs missed the fly but got fouled on it instead. There was the one that go hooked in the eye but while lifting the fish to release it, the hook popped out. I was worried at first but after a few tensed minutes, the PB swam away with such gusto that I am sure it will survive.

Another small 6" peacock got fouled in its pectoral fin. My line had been flowing with the wind and when the fish took off, I thought I had hooked a bonefish. The rooster tail created by the line cutting through the water was so similar to that of any saltwater fish taking off in skinny water. The initial shock gave the fish time to find cover and I was soon fighting both fish and a long trail of weed and algae. Again, slow pressure managed to detach the weed from the bed and the fish was dragged unceremoniously back to shore with a wig of green hair.



This morning, the Branchu accounted for at least 8 pieces of peacock bass. Have I cracked the Peacock Bass Code? I will have to come back and try it again a few more times to know for sure.