“Trout Suck” —Matthew Heskett

Not the most popular opinion in fly fishing circles. Certainly not the most diplomatic way to open a blog post for a fly rod company based in Twin Bridges, MT. But context is everything.

Christmas Island—or Kiritimati in the local Gilbertese language—lies just north of the equator and just west of the international dateline. By landmass, it’s one of the largest coral atolls in the world. Its interior lagoon is full of endless white sand flats, the most beautiful you could imagine. With names like Go Like Hell and Nine Mile, some seem to stretch forever. Add in the “smaller” flats, the pancakes, and miles of zigzagging shoreline in the Backcountry, and you have a fishery that would be the envy of any saltwater angler. Epic numbers of bonefish, flats crawling with triggerfish, shots at big GTs, and a variety of “bycatch” make CXI the perfect introduction to saltwater fly fishing.

Throughout the week I watched 17-year-old Matthew Heskett—a saltwater first-timer—inch toward the conclusion he would later exclaim. After day one, his stories were about bonefish that had repeatedly shown him his backing before coming to hand, most about the size of the trout he was used to in Utah. By day three, he was frustrated by triggerfish that refused his fly—or worse, crushed it so completely on the eat that the hook point was gone. It’s hard to hook a fish when it bites the point clean off.

 Hunting GTs is as intense as fly fishing gets…

It was day five that brought the blasphemy to Matthew’s lips. The moment you spot one cruising a flat, you understand their reputation. GTs are apex predators, and every movement shows it. They can outswim and eat almost anything on the flats, but they’re wary and hard to fool with a fly. When a shot comes, you have to stay calm, lead the fish by a rod length, and wait. Waiting is the hardest part. Once the fish closes within five feet, you make a long, slow strip. If it sees the fly—you’ll know by its eyes, fins, and sudden shift in body language—it accelerates. At that point your only job is to strip as fast as you can. The speed with which GTs commit is jaw-dropping, and the violence of the eat is frightening. Once hooked, you’ll see all your backing—and you’ll be glad you spent what you did on good gear, because it will all be tested.

Matthew had just watched a 40-plus-pound GT try to annihilate his fly.

He and his guide had been walking the fossilized coral “bank,” the Backcountry’s defining feature, when they spotted a pack of big GTs marauding the flat. At that moment nerves usually wreck everything, but Matthew stayed calm and did everything right. Unfortunately, the fish ran out of room. Instead of beaching itself in pursuit, it vanished as fast as it appeared. Matthew was left shaking, weak-kneed, and suddenly wondering if maybe college in the South Pacific wouldn’t be so bad. Everyone’s first encounter with a GT leaves them humbled by the brute, thuggish power a fish can hold. Watching them patrol a flat brings expletives to the surface. Given Matthew’s wild introduction to the “Gangsters of the Flats,” I’ll give his mutterings a pass.

Trout don’t suck—but compared to that, they can feel lacking.

 All the fishing at CXI is on foot.

It’s not unusual to walk miles in a day. The vastness of the lagoon is something you only appreciate once you’re wading it, and with the right tide, your guide may have the boat drop you in the morning and not return until evening. Spending the whole day crossing flats, stalking bonefish, triggers, and GTs on foot is as immersive as it gets. When the cast and presentation come together and you come tight to a tailing fish, you start to understand why people like Matthew say what they say.

Christmas Island is tough on gear.

Wading all day means reels take on sand and salt. The strength of the fish will test every knot and every rod. And if something breaks, there’s no fly shop on the atoll to bail you out.

A few rods broke during our week—big trouble if you didn’t have a backup. Luckily, I had plenty of Winston Air 2 Max rods to loan out. Maybe that’s why the others broke?

The Air 2 Max rods checked every “Christmas Island” box.

Light, powerful, and extremely durable.

RODS THAT SHINED ON CXI:

AIR 2 MAX 9’ 7wt for bonefish

AIR 2 MAX 8’6” 9wt for triggers

AIR 2 MAX 9’ 11wt for GTs

Despite being dunked in saltwater and sand all week, the Bauer SLT reels paired with them performed flawlessly.

CXI tests every reel’s drag, and the SLT delivered. I love the oversized drag knob for making quick adjustments mid-fight.

Our week was full of stories.

Amazing fish, family bonding (two of my cousins joined too), and a deeper appreciation that a trip’s success depends on far more than the fish. A fly rod is a lens to see the world. It carries us to places we’d never otherwise go. It connects us with people from different cultures and backgrounds, even when language is a barrier. Some of my closest relationships have been forged through fly rods.

With two epic legs of this year’s Travel Season behind me, I’m grateful—for the places, the guides, the fish, and most of all, the people I shared them with. Cape York, Australia, is just around the corner: two weeks on a mothership chasing Anak permit, blue bastards, and giant trevally. No doubt the trip will produce stories of its own.

Whatever lies ahead, don’t worry—I’ll defend the trout’s name. I wouldn’t even be on this adventure if not for that first one that ate my fly so many years ago.