If you have ever been lucky enough to be on the prowl for a true fishing adventure then you've probably come across the type of brochure before. You know the sort - the one that shows perfect conditions - sun, sea and b-i-g fish and, for accommodation, the next best thing to Club Med.

Penny to a pound, the brochure talks in general terms, without too many specifics, on sportsfishing this and untouched that. They may even have the requisite shot of smiling locals.

During my tenure at the helm of BlueWater, I've seen my fair share of such brochures. I've also seen the "other" end of the hype - the lack of facilities, or alternatively the lack of fish. And the distinct lack of friendly locals!

The guys at OceanBlue Vanuatu don't offer a glossy brochure to tempt you to The Banks Islands. In fact, ask about the remote island chain and they're quite specific about what the destination in Vanuatu's wild north offers. Thus if you're looking for grander marlin or luxury mothership liveaboarding then let me save you some time ... Indeed, stop reading and flip over to one of the other features Editor Granville has in this issue for your enjoyment. If, however, you're a fisherman who's after sportsfish and more than a little adventure, then read on.

BANK ON IT
Along with the Torres Group, the Banks Islands make up Vanuatu's northernmost province, Torbo. Bordering the Solomons, the island chain is a mixture of both volcanic and sandy islands. The biggest islands can be circumnavigated in a couple of hours of trolling, and the smallest are all but a cast wide. The volcanic ones tend to be active. And while in total there are over 60 islands in this part of the Vanuatu archipelago, only 13 or so are inhabited.

The main island in the Banks, Vanua Lava, has the biggest settlement - the village of Sola. Though there's a small guest house with bure-style restaurant and police and custom officers in situ; that's about it. American Express? Internet café? I don't think so.

Indeed, when we say the Banks chain is in Vanuatu's wild north, believe it. While adventurous cruising yachties visit the islands, the waters are all but unfished. Venture outside the fringing reefs that grace many of the islands, and the chances are even the locals haven't dropped a line.

Several days steaming north from Vanuatu's capital, Port Vila, the nearest airport of size - at Luganville on Espiritu Santo - is two full days trolling south of the southernmost island of the Banks chain, Gaua. From here the northernmost of the Banks Islands, Ureparapara, is another day or two's trolling. Once here, the Solomons are just 80nm away.

It's remote - even in Nivan terms. If you see another gameboat out here, chances are it's one of the boys from Cairns or Kona ... And they are very, very lost!

QUONSET QUIZ
Luganville is where we began our adventure, thanks to the people at Air Vanuatu and the country's domestic airline, Vanair.

Part of the fun of flying inter-island on Vanair's Twin Otters is you get to be weighed along with your luggage. No problem with excess luggage - they calculate the amount you and your bags are over and charge you. You can either pay, leave a bag behind or cut your leg off. With a swag of camera and fishing gear, and no desire to hop through life, we paid.

Greeting us at Luganville's war-surplus harbour (complete with rows of WWII-vintage Quonset huts) were the OceanBlue crew, skipper Remy Fruin, Eric Festa and mate, Sandy and the company's flagship Black Watch 40.

After a heavy few months of non-stop fishing in the area, Bolero wasn't the picture you'd expect of a thoroughbred sportsfisher. Indeed, the tropics are hard on boats. However, there was no mistaking the prep that had been done in anticipation of our trip. Two large fuel bladders graced the foredeck, as did a dinghy.

There was even more fuel spirited away onboard, along with two weeks worth of fruit and vegetables, Diet Coke, vin rouge, et al. You guessed it, once we left Espiritu Santo we were on our own - full service marinas are thin on the ground in the Banks.

One the yanks' biggest Pacific bases in WWII, Luganville is home to some of the world's best dive sites. Divers flock from all over the world to the wreck of the SS President Coolidge, which lies in 20-70m of water just a short distance from the shoreline in the harbour proper. Just a kilometre or two further down the channel is Million Dollar Point. Here literally millions of dollars worth of equipment from tanks to coke bottles were bulldozed into the sea by US forces at the end of WWII.

Even Luganville's airport has a WWII connection - it's built on what was part of one of the seven huge airbases that were home to squadrons of P51s, B17s and B29s.

True to form as we slipped lines and headed out of the channel, the fluffy white clouds that we had flown through all the way from Port Vila massed. As we slid the lures into the water and headed north up the east coast of Santo, it was the last time we were to see the sun for days.

Ahead of us was around five hours trolling to our overnight anchorage off the island of Lathi on Santo's north-east corner. The first four hours were uneventful, but gave us time to sort our gear and spool our weapons of choice.

With our aim to target the big dogtooth that Remy expected to find on the rarely fished reefs off Gaua and Ureparapara, we had 50 and 80lb stand-up gear on hand - the latter with a brand-spankers Accurate Twin Drag on trial.

In terms of sportsfishing tackle, we brought along a brace of trusty Shimano Trinidads. Spooled with 60lb braid and matched to Shimano rods, it really got the workout over the next 10 days or so.

Murphy's Law applies to angling more than any other pursuit, so there's no need for me to spell out which gear the dogtooth from hell jumped onto on our very last day. Scrap 300m of 60lb braid and one set of Trinidad drag washers!

Just a few miles shy of Lathi we got the first bite of our trip as the 300m deep azure water gave way to a lighter shade of blue over one of Remy's favourite seamounts.

Swimming between the big pushers we had set for billfish, our two Halco Laser Pros got nailed among schools of showering sauries. Indeed, like someone had flicked a giant switch, wahoo to around 14kg and school-sized doggies in the 15-20kg range pounced, and after a battle or seven dinner was on the deck.

Protected from 10-15kt south-easterly trade winds behind a she-oak covered sand and coral spit, we watched the sun set over Lathi island that night and sampled the first of many of Remy's delicious meals. I'm all for luxury motherships with chefs, hostesses and all the mod-cons, but there's something about the intimacy of small boat liveaboarding that is attractive in its own right. It certainly adds to the spirit of adventure.

ON TO ONTAR
The day starts early in low latitudes and with the sun well above the horizon by 6.00am, we left the anchorage well before I normally clock on. The pattern was set for the rest of the trip.

Loaded down with the best part of 4000lt (1000gal) of fuel, running the 40 across the open water between Santo and the first of the Banks Group islands proper, Guau, was not an option. Indeed, with the trade wind rising early too (it never went to bed!) such a trip would have been, at best, wet and uncomfortable.

So, as Remy pointed Bolero towards Gaua, barely visible above the horizon, we broke out the big guns again in readiness for a blue or two and made the transit.

Gaua's around 45nm as the crow files from Lathi and its near-800m high peak, Mt Garet, is what the geologists term a semi-active volcano. In my book semi-active is a bit like semi-pregnant. A volcano's a volcano for us Aussie flatlanders.

Rugged and heavily forested and looking more like a Kiwi island than the typical south seas atoll, Gaua has a number of subsistence villages and the ubiquitous copra plantations.

Copra (dried coconut "meat") is a staple of the economy of many Pacific islands, and the Banks are no exception. Unfortunately the world price for copra (used in the production of everything from soap to margarine) crashed in 1990s thanks to competition from palm oil produced in huge quantities by semi-industrial operations in Malaysia and the like. The net result is that in western terms, income levels and living standards on Gaua and the other Banks Group islands are very low. No surprise then that at our anchorages each night we were greeted by dugout-borne locals eager to sell us their produce.

One of "costs" of fishing these waters that the OceanBlue team happily "pay" is the supply of a fish or two to the locals. As mentioned in my intro, the Banks islanders rarely fish more than a stone's throw from shore. The gift of a solid mahi mahi, dogtooth or wahoo often brings whoops of joy from the locals. The fish are a welcome supplement to the largely vegetarian diet of the villagers.

Once in the lee of Gaua, we fished a productive seamount just a few miles off the western side of the island. Given hindsight, and the weather conditions we were to strike, this was a spot we should have spent more time fishing. With just a couple of passes on the way to our anchorage off the village of Ontar, we raised a whole gang of doggies and pinned two in the 35kg range.

The biggest woofer, a fish that put a more than satisfying bend in yours truly's 80lb Miller bent-butt - and made the Accurate's drag sing - was probably close to 60kg. We'll never know, however, the battle was over before it began when the hooks pulled.

At the anchorage, our canoe welcoming committee was overjoyed at the gift of the dogtooth. After we supplied the boys a few batteries for their trusty Dolphin torches, they returned later that evening with a bucket full of painted crays (lobsters) - a more than fair exchange. No prizes for guessing what was on the menu for lunch the next day.

IT'S LAVA, JIM, BUT NOT AS WE KNOW IT
Next port of call was the largest island in the Banks Group, Vanua Lava, and again with the south-easterly trades piping we aimed for the western (lee) side.

Lumpy was the best way to describe the conditions in the channel between Guau and VL. Though uneventful on this occasion, this water often yields quality sails according to Remy and Eric. Indeed, on our return journey, that's exactly what happened with three sails in the 30kg range falling to our doggie baits and lures.

It goes with saying that weather is not something you can control anywhere -much less in the middle of the Pacific and especially in the middle of perhaps the most disruptive El Nino for three decades. The saving grace in conditions like these is the fact that deep, potentially productive water is barely 500m from the island.

Vanua Lava's two 900m high peaks (yep, semi-active again!) and the high saddle between them combined to provide a reasonable lee, and fishable conditions could be found several kilometres to sea.

This was especially the case on the northern and western sides of the island off the picturesque Waterfall Bay. Here a very small village of just two or three families lies just metres outside the mist of Sara Falls. Sara's twin cascades tumble about 20m into a large, deep freshwater pool that is just the spot to relax in after a day of being umm, err ... rocked around at sea.

It was only after I returned to the Black Watch after my bath that I learned VL is one of the very few islands in Vanuatu to have a resident population of saltwater crocs.
As thanks for the impromptu spa, and fact that the crocs left us alone, we gifted the families a couple of Banks Stockers (read: 15kg wahoos), and the front half of a solid GT.

The GT was dispatched that day by a hammerhead just metres under the boat. I can vouch for the species of shark, as I was hanging out of the marlin door trying out a new Canon underwater compact camera.

It was amazing to watch the "dance" that ensued between the hooked trevally and the hunting hammer and its whaler wingmen. Indeed, it was so enthralling that one, I forget to push the shutter button; and two it wasn't until the boys grabbed my legs and wrenched me back into the cockpit that I pulled my head out of the water and realised the 3.5m hammer was right there!

Our day also produced the ubiquitous 10-20kg doggies and a couple more fish in the 30-35kg range. If this sounds dismissive of the fishing, it shouldn't - fish like these were top sport, especially on the Trinidads and light spin sticks. Given that many of the fish were taking minnows in full sight of the boat it was fun fishing.

And with great scenery at hand (check out this issue's cover pic of the 100m high Pe Lau River Falls) it was certainly more entertaining than hours spent on a featureless ocean waiting for a bite.

In return for the wahoo, our "hosts" at Waterfall Bay dropped off a bucketful of freshwater prawns before we headed to Ureparapara the next morning. Apparently the pool at the foot of the falls, is alive with the succulent crustaceans - as well as crocs!

Note for record hunters here: Waterfall Bay is home to the biggest barracuda you're ever likely to see. Only trouble is, the thing loves prawn heads but hates Halcos!

HORSESHOE FOR LUCK
Along with Bora Bora and NZ's volcanic wonder White Island, our next stop, Ureparapara, must rank as one of the most spectacular islands in the South Pacific.

A volcanic crater, according to Lonely Planet the island was first spotted by William Bligh from his longboat in 1789, after the famous Bounty mutiny.

Almost a perfect circle, the Banks northernmost island is around 5nm in diameter and its 750m high walls protect what would be the perfect anchorage save for the fact the narrow opening faces almost due east ... A problem when the south-east trades are at 20kt and rising.

The near circular shape of Ureparapara means that there's little in the way of a lee to fish behind too. In fact, the way the swell and seas roll around the shores the conditions are arguably better away from the island. Of course, Murphy's Law again dictated that where the conditions were at their worst, the fish set up camp.

In this case, the target again was a big dogtooth. In particular, the locale we chose was a deep reef and big drop-off a couple of nautical miles off the two o'clock point on Ureparapara's "clock."

The toothy tuna were thick enough and big enough in this neck of the woods for the spot to get quick christened "The Pound." Well, that's where lost dogs go, isn't it?

It was true sight fishing, slow trolling deadbaits rigged with a single hook through the nose to skip. Though not the prettiest baits in the world, their appearance didn't seem to worry the dogtooth. And when the whole baits ran out we changed to skipping strip baits and still they kept coming.

Great fun, the afternoon yielded plenty of small to medium fish plus a couple of surprises. One, which Eric called as a shark (after it took a bait that was sinking while we dealt with a small doggie at the boat), turned out to be a hefty sail that must have been afraid to jump. The second was the XOS doggie we'd been hoping for.

It seems these fish don't get big by being dumb and this particular fish managed to take several shots at a 5kg-plus rigged rainbow runner before making off with the bait without feeling steel.

To rub salt into the wound, just before lines in another huge dogtooth monstered a 5kg "puppy" we hooked as we approached the entrance to Ureparapara's 3km long harbour, Lorup Bay. The hole this one left in the water was big enough to swallow our dinghy!

Approached from the south, west or north, Ureparapara's unbroken walls give little clue to the harbour that lies within. In fact, it's not until you are close to the breach itself that the entrance becomes apparent.

A particularly rolly anchorage that, thanks to a silt bottom, offered the skipper little or no confidence in holding in the growing wind (and thus no sleep), it was nonetheless a worthwhile stop as we were greeted and entertained by no less than 20 dugouts and the lion's share of the population of the island's largest village, Leserplag. Even the kids made the trip out to the boat - some of them tiny mites that I guessed learned to handle a dugout before they walked.

THE LONG TROLL HOME
Our night in Lorup Bay was the northernmost anchorage of the trip.

From here, our original plan was to head down the east coast of the main Banks Group islands, stopping in at Rowa (known also as the Reef Islands), and then make the long open-water trek south east to the most isolated island of the group, Mere Lava. Out there we figured we could top the trip off with a few XXL wahoo, and who knows perhaps the blue marlin that had so far eluded us.

Alas, we must have offended the weather gods because at this point the wind really chimed in. While Rowa was still on the itinerary, Mere Lava, lonely Merig Island and Mota Lava would have to wait until next time.

Truth is, we could have made the trip safely, but it would have been miserable for all involved. And it's pretty hard to take good pictures or fish seriously when you have to use both hands to stay upright!

Rowa was too close not to take a look at, however. Actually a group of a dozen scrubby, low-lying islands, it contrasts completely with the green peaks of Ureparapara and VL.

Surrounded by a spectacular fringing reef reminiscent in places of the Ribbons up Lizard Island way, Rowa's lagoon is approx 7nm long and at its widest point approximately 3nm across. It was too shallow to easily enter with Bolero. But nearby Sola's villagers often make the 40nm round trip in small boats to fish the sandy-bottomed lagoon. One of the fish they regularly catch gets thrown back as its too boney to worry about eating.

You guessed it: bonefish. And yes, OceanBlue is planning a trip back with a flats boat to target the silver ghosts. My advice to any swoffers thinking of making the trip? Take a heavy weight-forward line if the wind's blowing and plenty of backing - fish in the 5-7kg range are claimed to be "average".

Our travels saw us tucked in behind the north-east corner of Vanua Lava that night just in time to see the sun set over a heavily vegetated bright green hillside.

Fair dinkum, it looked like the undergrowth was metres thick. In fact, it seemed somebody had thrown a giant camouflage net over an entire corner of the island - cliffs and all. In effect they had! Remy explained the large leafed vine was introduced by US forces to Espiritu Santo and the Banks Group for use as natural camouflage during WWII. Simply called the American vine by the locals, it can grow inches in a day. Stand still for too long and you're gone.

AN ADVENTURE FULFILLED
While that night Remy again performed miracles with the help of brandy, green peppercorns and his "magic" electric frypan, we grabbed a chart of the area and surveyed our options.

There was, alas, little chance of the winds abating - the pattern was stable and with the trades blowing a solid 25kt day and night, it was fishable but hardly fun. The decision was made, after a short day "prospecting" on a large reef structure between Mota Lava and VL that looked too fishy to pass up, we'd make for Sola, overnight and then reluctantly start the two-and-a-half day troll home.

The reef did produce fish - plenty, including the first yellowfin of the trip. Indeed, the area was covered with the football-sized tuna, along with healthy schools of scad and rainbow runner. Remy took little prompting to mark this one down for another visit. Given the amount of bait holding in the area, there's bound to be billfish in big numbers at the right time of year.

While Sola may have originally been little more than a dot on the map, after a week onboard a 40ft boat, the "capital" of the Banks Group was a chance to stretch our legs and sit down on something that wasn't rocking. It was also a chance for Remy and the crew to take a break from catering duties with our evening meal taken on the shores of Sola's Port Patterson at the Leumerous Guesthouse.

Accommodation here was basic but clean and inviting in the shape of small bures. There's limited electricity, even more limited comms (we took a satphone) but plenty of fresh hot water, and the traditionally influenced food was delicious and served in a picture perfect longhouse. Indeed, with that productive reef structure less than one-hour steaming away, and Rowa another hour or so distant, it strikes me that OceanBlue could do worse than base its Banks Group adventures from this locale.

That is, as long as a day or two of liveaboarding at wonderful anchorages like Waterfall Bay were included to complete the experience.

Because, above all, that's what a trip to the Banks Group is about - the total experience. The sights, the scenery, the people and, of course, the fishing all combine to make a sum total substantially bigger than its parts.

Would we go back? The answer is a definite yes, but not necessarily for the reason one might suppose given BlueWater's sportsfishing bent. Truth is, there's better fishing available in the western Pacific - some of it just a few miles offshore at the comparative metropolis of Port Vila. Indeed, get too focused on the fishing and you may go away from the Banks just a little disappointed.

Think adventure, however, and these Banks will return your investment with interest.