About 200km from Broome lies a trio of reefs known as Rowley Shoals where Vic Levett recently enjoyed some of the most incredible fishing.

If experience has taught me anything, it's that a hot billfish bite only lasts a limited time. Sometimes a bite can last days - other times only a few hours.

So upon arriving in Broome and being informed by our chosen charter's previous clients that they'd released some 30-odd sailfish, a 240kg black, and had stopped counting the wahoo and yellowfin tuna over a four day period, I was beginning to think we had missed the boat, so to speak.

If we had missed the fishing, at least we scored the weather, I thought - 28°C, zero wind and cloudless skies and the same predicted for the next four days. The complete opposite of the mid-August winter myself and seven other hopeful Sydney Gamefishing Club members had just left.

CLEAN SWEEP OF BROOME
An exotic laid-back town situated on the West coast of Oz, Broome is home to the beautiful Cable Beach Resort, and some of the most awesome sunsets on the planet.

Broome originally sprouted from a rich multicultural pearling industry. Nowadays, however, tourism is its major industry. Known as the gateway to the Kimberley's, it's also lesser known as the gateway to the Rowley Shoals - home of the sailfish.

Twenty hours and some 200km after steaming out of Broome, the big diesels of the 54ft charterboat Kingfisher III were finally idled back as the first of a series of three reefs called Clerk, Mermaid and Imperieuse - collectively known as the Rowley Shoals - materialised before us.

A low-lying reef with intermittent sand cays and deep channels among colourful coral bombies, it was certainly a fishy-looking setup. The two six-metre alloy centre-consoles we had towed out were moored in the protection of the reef's tranquil aqua-blue lagoon.

The Kingfisher III is a well-set-out, long-range sportsfishing rig, ideally suited to this style of fishing. With its large cockpit and generous-sized sleeping quarters, we were never found wanting. That morning, breakfast was served and dually devoured, and Gary - owner and skipper of Kingfisher III - called the start to fishing.
And the serious game of trolling for sails began.

SIXPACK OF SAILS
Trolling a spread of daisy-chain teasers within a couple of hundred meters of the reefs edge and then targeting any curious sails with skipping garfish (ballyhoo) nosed rigged with a 9/0 non-offset circle hook matched to a stout threadline outfit was the chosen style of fishing.

The threadline outfit gave us the option of casting to cruising fish, and also easy, free spooling while not forgoing line capacity. Half an hour into it, there appeared a small, discreet splash behind the port teaser - and a thin sticklike bill pierced the surface.

Dave was first to the fish and free spooled the bait back. Without hesitation, the sail sucked it off the top and line pealed off the reel effortlessly. Easing the drag up, the circle hook found its mark right in the corner of the sail's jaw.

Nothing much happened for the next twenty seconds until the fish realised its situation. And then over 50kg of angry pacific sailfish stripped the big threadline of an honest 400m of 40lb gelspun line, tearing the water to foam in the process as only a sailfish can.

Thinking we were seriously undergunned, after the one hour mark Dave was making little headway when finally the line angled up and the spool once again filled to capacity. Colour eventually appeared, and once on the leader the sail was billed, hook removed and sent on its way.

That particular fish ended up being the biggest of the trip out of 54 sails physically leadered and released, with the majority falling in the 35–45kg class. It was also the only time we saw a lone sailfish raised - on average, at least six agro sail bills would be seen trying to belt anything that resembled food, and at times they would hang onto the teasers until within inches off the transom. It was like trying to shake off a bull terrier with lockjaw hanging on to a stick

BUSY HOOKERS
Double hookups were standard, and the best saw four of us dancing and weaving around the deck while our fish pealed off hundreds of metres of braid, or tore off around the bow with angler in tow - exciting fishing in anyone's language.

Fly-fishing for them would be as easy as feeding bread to ducks. Most sails were taken on the dead baits; a few were taken on lures, and one was even taken on a Halco Giant Trembler.

The sheer number of bites we got from sails gave us an ideal opportunity to experiment with the various circle hooks available on today's market. All the major brands were given a go. By far the best of these were the Eagle claw 9/0 non-offset fine-gauge, and the Owner SSW 5178 circle 8\0. Anything with an offset increased the chances off hooking the fish deep.

Day Threeproved to be our most memorable, with 24 sails released in a three-hour period. On no less than three separate occasions, we witnessed an amazing event: while one of us fought a sail, another sail would repeatedly billwhack the line were it entered the water. As we were using braided line, one such fish Velcroed himself to the line - and in the true sense of the phrase, the angler in question had a double hookup as both fish fought each other until the line parted. Both fish swam free.

The sails of Rowley Shoals were without doubt the most aggressive sails I have ever fought. Packs of what looked like 20 sails would be seen herding up large schools of terrified long toms, with most of the hunt above water level - making it extremely exciting viewing from the flybridge of Kingfisher III.

Throughout the hot bites, free-swimmers would materialise from nowhere, and free-jumpers were constant entertainment. I'd never really thought of sailfish as an elite, aggressive predator; but in these parts, they were indeed the bad boys of the reef, bowing down to no-one - sharks included.

Out of all our sharked fish (indicative of a virgin fishery) and there were plenty of them, not once was a sail even escorted back to the boat by the hyenas of the sea. Proof of their dominance within the reefs hierarchy.

TUBS OF TUNA
Yellowfin were by far the most prevalent tuna, with fish averaging 15–30kg. Trolling near any exposed points of the reef and straying out beyond 40 fathoms saw, at times, every rod (up to eight) loaded up with tuna.

But while we were all initially stoked to do battle with a fish almost extinct on the east coast, they soon became a real pain in the arse - especially on the threadline outfits. After their initial run, they would invariably sound, proving extremely hard to muscle up from the depths on the spin gear - and they would subsequently fall victim to the wolfs.

Nearly all tuna were released, apart from the ones that were shortened by the prolific whalers - and those that were kept ended up on the back deck barby, as sashimi, or as bait for the evening bottom-bash.

The unstoppable dogtooth also made its presence felt, quite often screaming up from the depths and grabbing a bait intended for sail. It would then return to its kennel, leaving the unfortunate angler with a hot drag and slack line.

The ones I saw looked to be in excess of 50kg, but I wouldn't be surprised if they weighed double that. Targeting them on serious tackle of say 37kg would have evened up the odds. Next trip maybe!

I actually landed the only doggy. At around four kilos it was hardly a beast - but it was a doggy nonetheless. Other tunas included longtails and mackerel tuna, but these were at the small end of the size scale.

WAHOO TO BURN
Between us, we had fished some pretty hot and distant locations - but none of us had seen wahoo in such profusion. While we never caught any monsters, we certainly caught the numbers. Sizes ranged from eight kilos to 20-odd - but I'm sure there were bigger ones lurking about in the depths.

On approaching a section of the reef renowned for hoo, the skipper would give us a shout to swap over to lures. Giant Tremblers, Laser Pros and any surface lure would replace the teaser and dead baits spread - and within minutes, Dr Hoo would be belting anything that moved.

Dropping heavy jigs after hookup was deadly, but staying connected proved to be quite a challenge with the combination of the wahoos' hard mouths, the heavy jigs and zero stretch in the line. The consequence was usually the fish gaining their freedom - but not without pinging off a heap of line first.

The hookups are the best part - at least that's what I kept telling myself. Targeting these speedsters on a saltwater fly would have been ideal, as the fish would continue to smash the lures right to the transom while others could be seen milling about only metres below, making it an easy proposition to sight-cast to individual fish.

SWORDFISH 24/7
So what does one do after one's fished all day? Go fishing, of course!

Broome, or rather the entire coast of Western Australia, is becoming a bit of a hot spot for the enigmatic broadbill. Tales from our skipper Gary of up to three broadies a night got the adrenaline pumping even though a good night's sleep seemed the more sensible thing to do.

Two hours steaming from the second atoll Mermaid had us in the vicinity of a kink in the 300 fathom line where Kingfisher III had had the majority of its success. With the spotlight set up over the water and a building moon appearing over the horizon, we drifted in the hope of securing fresh - or better still, live - squid for a drift fish.
The smell of fresh grilled wahoo wafted through the deck, and a sumptuous meal was laid out before us. Before we knew it, it was 11 o'clock - and peering out into the ocean's darkness, we could see nothing but minute, alien marine creatures flying around, creating their own phosphorescent highways. It looked liked Plan B was about to come into play.

Trolling Mold Craft pushers with tuna belly flaps stitched inside was the only option left. It was a method we had read about, but never deployed - until now.
Two baits were set, one within the cockpit light's fringe the other just outside it - both with cyalume sticks five metres from the bait, which left a glowing trail in our wake.

Trolling at night is an eerie experience where the whole scene becomes almost surreal. By now it was midnight and only Otto and myself were left on deck - the others had either retired to bed or figured they no chance of beating the two of us to the rod.

We both must have drifted off when a familiar sound beckoned me to open my eyes. The rod with the long lure was fully loaded and line was screaming off - but why no ratchet noise?

Oldest trick in the book - Otto had flicked off the ratchets in the hope of beating me to the rod. It was 1:40am and as I stood there with a reel emptying fast, all I could do was grin and watch Otto's bewildered and sleepy face. By now everyone was up on deck, and all eyes peered into the inky depths in the hope of catching a glimpse of what had grabbed the lure.

After the initial run, the line angled towards the depths - and at around the 20-minute mark the cylume stick emerged followed by the wind-on. And then came the one we were all waiting for - a broadie!.

To say I was stoked was an understatement. My first broadie! At around 20kg it was around the average size, according to Gary. Specifically targeting one on a lure and succeeding was truly gratifying.

After all the backslapping and photos, we set up again and I left Otto to it while I caught some shuteye - I mean, what chance would I have of beating him to rod again? Even though we fished one more night for swordfish, that was to be the only one for the trip.

For the small effort Kingfisher III has put in chasing them, the rewards have been high. With options like that available to the charter company in case the sails shut down, it makes the experience more than you could possibly ask for

BITS AND PISCES
Rowley Shoal lagoons are catch and release only, and upon heading through the entrance, dark, ominous shapes could be seen darting back to their haunts - and at least a dozen solid permit cruised under the bow.

The lagoon was full of large bombies among the deep channels, and extensive areas of shallows dotted with small clumps of corals. The later were the hottest popper sessions we had.
The popper fishing out of the six-metre centre-consoles was visually awesome. Red bass, beefy coral trout, bluefin trevally, cods, Maori wrasse (to name but a few) unceremoniously crashed our poppers, making short work of the 40lb braid by stitching us up around the vivid blue staghorn corals. The only real chance we had was if we hooked them within three metres of the boat - outside of that and it was all over, Red Rover.

Trolling around outside the lagoons' entrance accounted for Spanish mackerel and the always-unwanted barracudas, while at times, pairs of migrating humpbacks could seen erupting from the depths as if to celebrate their arrival to Rowley Shoals.

The catch rates for Kingfisher III fishing Rowley Shoals are extremely impressive. Its best day sailfishing saw in excess of 60 fish released, and three broadies in a night is nothing to scoff at.

While we didn't set any records, we certainly had a ball trying. Sometimes when you think you've got a hot bite, it's only the beginning of a scorching bite - but that's what's so intriguing about fishing: you just never know.

A combination of its remoteness, pristine conditions, catch and release and little or no commercial fishing will ensure a healthy and viable fishery for the future of the Rowley Shoals area.

I constantly read and have personally sampled many exotic locations around the world where sails are plentiful and the fishing is hot. And then I find myself comparing each place to our own fisheries - and considering what we've got in our own backyard, I'm staying and playing at home.