In mid February this year I headed to Southern Oman to spend some time with Ocean Active as their “Guest Guide”. Ocean Active has a team of extremely competent guides, so my role was really to tag along and explore the coast a little, and maybe offer some input towards a collaborative effort between Ocean Active and Flyfishing Travel. Nick Bowles and Trevor Skinner of Ocean Active have been to our lodges at Osen Gard and Carron on the Spey and offered some incredible insights, and it was up to me to return the favour.
The Omani coastline is not a new fishing destination- in fact it’s been the popular haunt of hardcore DIY anglers for years. Nick is one of the original explorers of Oman’s potential, and knows the coast intimately. For those that aren’t fond of roughing it DIY style, and wondering aimlessly around for days trying to work out the fishing without a guide Ocean Active has recently started running trips primarily for Trachinotus Africanus (the Other Permit). The Africanus fishing has been unbelievable, and the proximity to Dubai as a central hub and a whole new permit species has a the flyfishing community sitting up and taking notice- including yours truly- but the scope and scale of the fishery is what really got me excited. I’ll get to that in good time…
I arrived in Dubai at midnight and despite the late hour a driver had been organised to pick me up. Nick and Trev greeted me at the house with a nightcap of Speyside and after a few laughs and a good catch up we turned in for a short nap. There were Queenfish to be caught… At sunrise we took the short drive to the marina and in 10 minutes I was casting into bait balls and marauding Queens.
Its been a while since my flats guiding days, so I don’t mind saying there was a lot of rust that had to be shaken off. I made all the mistakes on that first morning: trout striking, playing fish softly, leading fish too much and the casting was atrocious. Luckily, Queens are extremely forgiving and I still managed to land stacks of fish.
Queens are so much fun, they’re strong and acrobatic, and the fishing was unexpectedly visual. By mid day it was warming up and the queens don’t come up to the bait as readily in the midday heat, so we called it a session. It’s a good thing the Queens quietened down, otherwise I’d still be there. I had two mornings of Queenfishing, and I still felt like I hadn’t had enough. My second morning I had found my rhythm again and didn’t fish like a fumbling teenager on a first date. You know the fishing is top notch when you start considering relocating to Dubai.
It was time to tear myself away from Dubai and head down south. The flight from Dubai to Salalah is one of those easy ‘climb and decent’ flights where the crew has to jog the food trolley up the isle lobbing bottles of water and sandwiches that you don’t have enough time to eat before the gear comes down. I didn’t even have time to embarrass myself in front of the crew by falling asleep with my mouth open and drooling all over myself like Homer Simpson.
Anyway. In no time we were checked into the hotel and drinking G&T’s at the Island Bar in the Marina and talking about what was to come. It was dark by the time we had landed in Salalah, and darker still when we set off for fishing the next morning. So my first true impression of Oman came with sunrise, and it’s light reflecting off towering cliffs that plunge vertically into an oily flat Arabian sea. I live on the west coast of Norway, and should be used to seeing huge sheer cliffs rising from sea level, but Oman’s coastline nearly knocked the wind out of me. Waves beat and sprayed from the bottom, and Ospreys and tropic birds (and strangely pigeons) circled at the very top.
It’s a good thing I had had some time in Dubai to get my eye in, because we went straight into looking for permit. At the base of the cliffs the permit rise onto the shelves of mussel beds with the swell and tail heavily as they try to pry a mussel from the rocks in the few short seconds they have before the wave retreats and they’re washed off the shelf again. For the third day in a row I was up on the bow (something that hasn’t happened often in my guide career), Nick was at the stern and Nuwan (Ocean Active’s skilled Sri Lankan Guide) expertly steered us at a safe but cast-able distance from the cliff face.
Almost immediately Nick and Nuwan started spotting fish. I tried not to get flustered while I tried to keep up, realising how lazy my spotting eyes had gotten. While I flayled and flustered about Nick promptly caught a permit on his Thomas & Thomas Sextant (T&T’s saltwater cane rod, beautifully built by Troy Jacques). Every permit is cause for celebration, but I can’t think that many Africanus have been caught on a cane rod before, so they was much jubilation. I also got to see my first Africanus, as well as learn first hand what Nick and Nuwan had been trying to explain to me. With all the swell and boat movement, it’s all about keeping the fly in the narrow zone for as long as possible.
It felt like a miracle, or pure fluke when the line straightened and I set the hook into my permit. I had cast into many shoals of permit tailing aggressively, but to no avail. They seemed to part like the biblical red sea as my fly passed through them. It happened often enough that I was beginning to have my doubts as to whether I would be able to pull this off. Then sure enough, my fly washed down a gulley in the rocks, a permit eagerly following behind it and I came tight. For a split second I was still in denial: was it a blacktail? Or had a Masked Triggerfish picked it up in the wash? But all doubt evaporated as we saw the broad silver flash- like a serving tray- at the end of the line. The rod bucked and thumped as the fish made short bursts towards structure. I wish I could say I whooped and laughed and enjoyed the fight, but I was petrified and nervous (nauseous even) for its entire duration.
The fish was tailed, photos were taken, and of course the fish was promptly released. After 10 years of guiding, 7 on the flats and I had just caught my first permit of any kind.
The stupid grin on my face would last days…
I was in Oman for a month. I helped Nuwan guide clients onto a few more Africanus as well as Double Bar sea bream and a myriad of trevally and pelagic fish offshore. I got to see a bit more of the varied and beautiful coast. We explored Khors- blind river mouths, crystal blue and fringed in phragmites and date palms, often hiding surprising and unexpected fish. The coast seemed endless with infinite opportunities and possibilities.
Unfortunately the whole Corona Virus thing cut my time in Oman short, but in hindsight just about any amount of time wouldn’t have felt long enough. I still go to sleep with the sound of waves pounding cliffs in my ears, and the sight of dozens of forked tails thrashing about on the shallow mussel beds…
James Topham
