JURASSIC PARK OF THE NEW CENTURY

[Originally published in the January 2024 issue of SKI-BOAT magazine]

By Hannes Vorster
WE’VE all read articles about extreme fishing adventures and heard about catches of “monsters”, “beasts” or “giants” and wondered how true they are. Before I continue, let me say I have been fortunate to fish most of the remote and unfound territories across the globe in search of those real big dinosaurs, but NEVER have I seen, heard, or experienced anything like what I have in Papua New Guinea!
It all started when Captain Michael de Min who runs a charter boat at Doini Island (one of the ±600 islands around Papua New Guinea) told me of an encounter with a “giant” Napoleon wrasse of over 80kg. I have had a few encounters with Napoleon wrasse at various destinations but have never been able to land one. It is like I have been cursed – every time I hook up to one, something seems to go wrong.
Since Papua New Guinea (PNG) is known as a location where they are found in abundance, it has been on my radar for a few years now.
The Napoleon is one of the largest reef fish in the world and can grow up to two metres and weigh up to 180kg. Apart from a Napoleon’s remarkable ability to change its sex, they also have a few other very unique features. Their colours vary from dull blue-green to vibrant shades of electric green and sometimes even purplish-blue, and their very prominent hump on their foreheads apparently resembles the hat of the French emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, hence their name.
Like chameleons, they can also rotate their eyes and see in more than one direction without moving their head.
Michael’s stories about PNG’s Napoleons were enough to convince me to go there and see if I could turn my luck.

As it turned out, part of the adventure was getting there, with the journey taking nearly three days. First we flew to Manila (Philippines), then Port Moresby (capital of PNG), then took an internal flight to Alotau (in the south-east of PNG) where we spent the first night. Waking up is never easy for me unless it’s for fishing, so sweet was the sound of Michael’s voice at 5am the next day. This was the start of a seven-day adventure I would never forget!
We left the Bay of Milne and zigzagged through dozens of small islands heading towards Doini Island. Before long we passed an area called the GT Channel where the currents create large ripple effects as they pass over the shallower reefs. “Cast! Cast! Cast!” came the instruction. In no time I was hooked up to my first GT of the trip!
As primitive as it can be, Doini Island has a beautiful private resort with a few air-conditioned beach bungalows, a dining area and a lovely beach bar nestled between the palm trees on the soft white sand.
One of the first things we noticed were two broken jigging rods lying on the table. “Yes, this happens all the time,” Michael explained. I look at my fishing mates – Cobus Nieuwoudt and Manu Girard – and saw the disbelief in their eyes. We could not help but wonder if our gear would withstand the test of this uncharted territory.
Early the next day we set off for an area called “Harry’s Breakfast”. I knew of the reef because two of my South African friends (Herman Schoeman and Paul van Niekerk) fished there a few weeks before us, and Herman caught the first dogtooth tuna on this particular reef. On this trip they broke two rods at this very same spot, and it would be an injustice not to quickly capture their experience here…
At Harry’s Breakfast the vertical ledge drops off from around 30m down to approximately 400m. They arrived at the reef in the early morning and, having snapped his jigging rod the day before on another monster, Paul was determined to jig with his popping rod. On the first drift Herman hooked up but his line was cut off on the reef. On the second drift Paul dropped down to around 50m and BANG! Huge head shakes and then off he went – a typical dog bite.

The skipper immediately moved the boat into deeper water away from the wall, but the fish didn’t stop running, nearly spooling all the line on Paul’s reel. The drag was tightened, but since the popping rod was not built for jigging, it just couldn’t cope. Snap! Paul’s heart sank, but then Herman ran to the front and grabbed the rod. The guys then took turns to pump the fish and after another 25 minutes and a few more runs, an 80kg dogtooth surfaced. Too big to be lifted over the gunnels, the fish was loaded through the gate.
On our way to the reef some really scary thunderclouds began building up. One does not take chances at such remote locations, so we decided to fish closer to Doini instead. We approached a reef near Dumoulin Island where we saw a few pods of dolphin and then a very rare sight – a large a squadron of manta rays! Not long afterwards Cobus caught his first giant trevally.
Suddenly we noticed we were surrounded by sharks. Manu’s Orion popping lure was being chased by an enormous king mackerel, but before long the fish got snapped in half by a shark! The next moment, another shark turned for the lure itself and bang, shark on! After an exhilarating fight the shark came close and was now circling the boat with Manu’s expensive, handmade French lure in its jaws. We eventually managed to get the hook out, but the lure was bitten to pieces.
The day was characterised with the three of us having multiple double- and triple hook-ups on a range of different species.
We arrived back at Doini at around 5pm and went straight to the deck to enjoy a few after action beverages. We now knew what we were up against, so we re-evaluated our knots, tying them over and over until we were sure they would stand the test of the unbelievable size fish we had seen for ourselves.
The next day we headed to the other side of the island where there are many shallower reefs and every fish species imaginable. En route, we saw a school of large milkfish breaking on the surface and regretted not taking any flyfishing gear along.
We were jigging most of the day and it felt like fishing in a lucky packet – literally every strike produced a different fish species. I have never seen so many species of reef fish being landed in one day: hexagon groupers, moontail groupers (coronation trout), Rankin cods, African pompano, squirrel fish, leopard- and passion fruit coral trout to name a few. Cobus even caught a trumpet fish on jig.
Keeping a record of all the fish caught becomes an insurmountable task when one catches more than five fish before 7am! On this particular day, we caught over 20 different species of fish; in total we caught 31 different species over the seven days.

We were all blown away, but it wasn’t until Manu landed a Chinaman snapper that Michael got excited. It was the first one he’d seen since he began chartering in PNG.
The following day we headed for a newly discovered pinnacle we’d seen on the sonar the previous day. The unwritten rule was that you got to name a reef if you caught the first fish on it, and I wanted that honour. When we arrived, the sonar showed the pinnacle was literally filled up with fish; we were going to have a busy day.
The top of the pinnacle is around 20m2 and rises from around 80m up to 19m where you can literally see the coral below the boat. I decided to use my light jigging gear, and before long I hooked up to something absolutely out of this world – a giant grouper. The fish clearly had one idea in mind, and that was to get back to the safety of the reef. I had to ensure that didn’t happen.
With the reel set on maximum drag, the fish was still peeling line off the spool and I had to use my hand to cover the spool to slow the run. Eventually the line burnt right through my glove and was burning blisters on my hand, but with so much adrenaline flowing through my veins I only realised this after the action subsided.

After an epic battle, a giant grouper of prehistoric proportions surfaced next to the boat. The fish’s mouth was so big I could have stuck my entire head into it without touching sides. They can grow up to over 400kg, and even though mine was nowhere near this size, the photos show how huge it was. This fish was clearly the “owner” of this reef, and we carefully revived it so that it could did take back this respected position.
I named the reef L-Vee (my son’s initials). This reef produced several more groupers and both Manu and Cobus caught a few remarkable fish, including a Malabar grouper for Manu.
After a bit of a rest I decided to make another drop with the jig. I felt it hit the bottom and slowly started my retrieval, and then something grabbed it – this time at a much faster pace than the grouper, and it was putting up an even bigger fight. Even after I gained quite a bit of line, the fish simply would not give up.
Suddenly Michael was alongside me trying to give me advice; it was clear he did not want me to lose whatever I had at the end of the line. The fish was about 10m below the boat, but because of the chop on the water we still could not see what it was. Then, a fisherman’s worst nightmare – the leader snapped.
As we inspected the line we noticed it was frayed and had small bite marks at the end. Michael broke the news to me: “Hannes, I think you have just lost the biggest Napoleon of your life.” Why do I have such bad luck with Napoleons?

Day five was dedicated to hunting GTs, and Michael took us to an island that looked like the head of a giant gorilla from a distance. We named it Kong Island and it certainly lived up to its name. The currents were just insane and it was a struggle to keep the boat in position.
Manu was casting yet another big black Orion T-Rex popper when we saw an enormous black GT chasing it, and the next moment all hell broke loose! It seemed like we were surrounded by GTs around the 40-50kg mark. There was mayhem on the boat.
The first fish struck Manu’s lure and came straight out of the water! None of us had ever seen a GT of this size – it was well over 60kg and meant business. The dark colouring made it look even more vicious. In the meantime Cobus was hooked up to a slightly smaller GT around 50kg, but his hook came out completely bent open. The black GT gave Manu the fight of a lifetime and took a while to land, reminding me of the ones we catch in Musandam in Oman where they live in the strongest currents you can imagine which makes them much stronger than regular GTs.
We could not wait to get back to the reef for another drift. I cast my popper and, after the second or third pop, I saw a big swirl of water behind my lure. I kept popping, and the next moment there was an explosion in the water. It looked like somebody had dropped a massive rock onto my lure. Strike, strike and yet another hard strike to set the hook and bang – fish on!
Then I heard another sound – something snapped in my shoulder and an excruciating pain shot through my arm! I was in agony and I lost the use of my arm – and, with it, the ability to fight the GT of a lifetime. The fish managed to get away and I was unable to even retrieve the lure.
I stood there absolutely devastated, watching my bicep grow to nearly twice its normal size. I had torn one of the bicep tendons from my shoulder. Needless to say, it was the last cast of the day for me, and I just sat there holding my arm and feeling sorry for myself. But it certainly was not the end of the day for the others. I just had to toughen up and play deckhand for the rest of the day, helping Manu and Cobus land one fish after another.
It was a slightly disappointing day because everything that could go wrong with our gear did. Cobus hooked into a GT that pulled open a 9/0 treble hook – something usually only possible with a large pair of pliers and a vice grip. Manu managed to get his split ring caught between the swivel and the lure and pulled the split ring so that it looked like a paper clip. I am convinced that no place on earth – except perhaps Southern Oman – has bigger GTs than that area, and the number of fish lost was devastating!
That evening I was nursing my arm with handfuls of pain meds and strapped it up with our limited first aid supplies. Nothing was going to stop me from fishing this amazing place, and we were still to get out to the outer reefs where the Napoleons were waiting for us.
The following day we started out early as we wanted to get out to the reef before the wind picked up and the daily afternoon thunderstorm arrived.
The outer reefs are a two- to three-hour drive from where we were staying, and when we arrived we were greeted by the most beautiful turquoise blue water and submerged coral reefs of every colour in the rainbow. You could literally see the fish swimming through the reef structures, coral trees and gullies and it looked like you were in the middle of a giant marine fish tank. It almost felt like it should be illegal to fish there.
Fishing for Napoleons is quite different to fishing for GTs and other topwater pelagic fish species. They are not as aggressive and require a lot more “attention” to detail. Casting is generally done on sight, and apart from being elusive, they also get spooked easily and will return to the safety of their hiding places in the reefs. This means only one person gets to cast at a time.
When the fish swim up to your lure, you need to focus on the take, as they will literally swim up to it, open their mouths wide and suck the lure in. If you do not strike at this exact moment, they have the tendency to spit it out again as soon as they realise it is not a real baitfish.
I was nominated to have the first go. Michael was skippering the boat from the small elevated flybridge, and shouted: “There’s one at 9 o’clock – cast, cast, cast!” I was looking at 9 o’clock, but all I could see was this massive black shadow in the water. It looked like a rock, except it was moving!
“Bok koors” is a term used when a hunter comes across a large antelope and nervously starts shaking with adrenaline. That’s exactly what happened to me. I was as ready as one can be, and I cast my luminous pink Amberjack Reefbomber in its direction. My whole body was literally shaking with excitement. It was a perfect cast and the lure landed within a few metres of the fish. Without hesitation the fish swam right up to my lure and took it. “STRIKE!” Michael shouted.
What happened next will haunt me until my dying day: as I struck, the bail arm of my reel opened and I had line peeling off my reel. In my 40+ years of fishing, this has never happened to me. How is this even possible? The Napoleon swam for cover and was gone… Now we had to start the search all over again.
A few hours and many casts later, we spotted yet another one. I was the only one whose lure was not in the water, so I got to have another shot. I made my cast and this time it was a terrible one and the lure landed 10m from the fish. Despite the distance the Napoleon spotted my lure and started homing in on it. There was silence on the boat as everybody watched the scene play out.
When the Napoleon was about one metre from my lure it was getting ready for the take. I was now as ready and collected as I could be. As the Napoleon moved a bit closer, I kept the speed of my retrieval consistent to ensure he didn’t lose interest. Suddenly, out from under one of the ledges came a red sea bass; it grabbed the lure right in front of the Napoleon and swam away with it.
How is it even possible for one person to have so much bad luck on one particular species?
Normally the Napoleons swim away after such a commotion, but this one was completely lit up and ready for action. Manu took a cast and again there was immediate interest from the fish. Strike one – miss! Strike two – miss! Strike three – fish on! It was an extremely powerful fish, and in shallow water like this there is always a real chance of getting reefed. Fortunately, after a solid battle, Manu managed to get it next to the boat.
The Napoleon wrasse was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. This one did not have the deep purple/blue colours of the ones I have seen up close in the Red Sea, but it was still very beautiful with its unique green velvety scales.
On our way back, we were heading towards Bonarua islands and spotted a large flock of birds diving. At first we thought the fish were yellowfin tuna, but as we got closer, we realised they were really large king mackerel (kingfish), which had created a bait ball they were eating off. Again there were sharks everywhere, and we knew that anything we manage to hook up would be “taxed”.
Before long I hooked my first shark on a popper. What an experience! This shark was now being chased by other sharks, and I had to hold on for dear life as the runs were immense. Despite my injured arm I finally managed to get it close enough for us to retrieve my lure and it swam off to the deep.

The next half hour or so was great fun and all of us caught our fair share of king mackerel, although most only came out in pieces. Cobus unexpectedly hooked into a GT, but dropped it after a short fight. At that exact moment a king mackerel grabbed the lure! After an epic battle Cobus managed to get the whole fish on the boat – dinner had been delivered!
Eventually, with dusk approaching we called “last cast”, and everybody was hoping to get one last fish. I was retrieving a bright green stickbait lure, closely watching its beautiful action, when suddenly I saw something darting towards it from the depths of the ocean at an incredible speed. The largest king mackerel imaginable (as long as I am tall) grabbed my lure and shot up into the air right in front of all of us. It just kept going higher and higher into the air.
It was as though time stood still for a few moments – the fish in the air, sun right behind it and this neon green lure in its mouth, slowly reaching the high point its momentum carried it to before starting to drop down to the water. I waited for it to get back to the water before striking, but it was too late – the fish dropped the lure on the way down and the five of us just stood there looking at each other in awe. It was the perfect ending.
On our last day the conditions were finally suitable for us to get out to Harry’s Breakfast reef. We arrived there with expectations as high as the clouds, and Manu and Cobus got a double hook-up in no time. Cobus unfortunately got reefed, but Manu was fighting yet another big fish he’d hooked at the 120m mark. Something seemed to be strange about the fish Manu was fighting and approximately 30 minutes later he had caught his fourth shark for the trip – this time on a jig! Our luck turned when the clouds started building up again and Michael made the call to get closer to home.
As we passed Igoigoli Island, we spotted a large group of baitfish frantically fleeing two sailfish. We made a few casts with the hope of maybe getting lucky, but the sailies were only interested in the baitfish. Cobus then hooked a massive garfish that managed to strip all the epoxy off his lure. After giving us a fantastic aerial display we managed to get the fish onto the boat and off the hooks.
We then headed towards Warri Island, and it was there that Manu’s most popular lure got attacked and completely destroyed by the biggest barracuda any of us has ever seen. The day ended with each of us being awarded with a nice GT on our last triple hook-up for the week.
The next day we headed back towards Alotau and made a few casts along the way, but it was just not the same – we all realised that we had come to the end of a trip none of us would ever forget. But this is not the last PNG has seen of me … I still have a score to settle with one of her enormous Napoleon wrasses.