There’s a patch of water just off Leveque Island…
that promises big fish. Join three Grumpy Old Men with a dinghy as they head north of Broome to tangle with these whoppers.
It’s a 200-kilometer drive north of Broome to get to the white sands and red cliffs of Cape Leveque. After 90 kilometres of dusty red road the palms are sweaty and the bum is sore after negotiating a rough clay and sand road (said road is now bitumen all the way!). Towing a camper trailer slows you down – on a good stretch you might get to 90 kph, but often you’ll slow to below 60, bouncing over humps and corrugations. Since our 2005 trip we were pleasantly surprised to find bitumen for about the last 100 kilometers. Pleasant!
We arrived at Kooljaman at Cape Leveque to a friendly greeting from the staff. They had arranged a great Palm Frond Beach shelter for us, perched on a small cliff about 20 meters from the sandy beach and the blue sparkling water. Sweaty blokes pitched camp and then relaxed with the compulsory cold ale while looking out over the water. This is a place you’ve simply got to see for yourself. Turquoise water, no swell, usually flat calm, white sands, striking 
cliffs and rocky headlands. You sit there at your camp listening to the water lap the shore, basking in the warm sunshine and just inhaling the ambience.
Although our hot spot was only about 2 km from the boat-launching beach, the unusual northerly wind was a bit strong so we elected to wait for the morning before venturing out for a fish. The Grumpy Old Men sat in the shade of our palace on the cliff watching the blue water and sipping on another beer (have to keep the fluid levels up in the tropics!). Rods and reels were unpacked and rigged in anticipation of the morning.
A late afternoon drive down to the west beach saw us admiring the picturesque red cliffs framing clean white sand and blue water. As the sun gets lower in the west, the cliffs get redder and stand out against the light sand as the water glints and laps against it. Drive back up to the cliff top car park for a stunning sunset. It was then back to camp where we prepared the evening meal. Chops grilled on the hotplate over the open fire accompanied by one of Gary’s famed “happy and carefree” salads. A few glasses of wine around the campfire saw much excitement and anticipation of the morning’s search for big macks.
I slept restlessly that night, being very excited about the forthcoming tussle with big fish. Next morning the anticipation was too much for me. I was awake before the dawn and well before the customary breaking of wind by the local sparrow. The kettle boiled before the sun peeked over the horizon and I sipped a strong coffee and played with my cameras, setting up one on a tripod to catch the sunrise. Mike and Gary soon stumbled out of their swags, eager eyes filled with silent anticipation of meeting a big fish.
We shared a quick and silent breakfast as the sun rose from its bed over the water to the east. Golden rays set fire to calm waters and promised good fishing. We must have looked like a bunch of silly old men (as opposed to Grumpy) as we drove down to the boat launching beach with Mike’s 3.7 meter Stacer tinny perched right side up on top of the roof rack – as if we were going to wind the windows up and drive the Landcruiser straight into the water until the boat floated off! By 7:30am we were all set up with tinny in the water, motor bolted on, and tackle loaded. and before 8:00 am we had motored slowly out and had lures in the water. Little did we know that in about 11 minutes time we would have the biggest Spanish Mackerel we had ever seen flopping in the boat whilst we conducted nervous tap-dancing to keep a distance between the large razor-sharp teeth and our delicate pink toes!
Anyway… back to the story. I had 15-kilo mono on my old trusty Daiwa Sealine reel (just realized it was the reel’s 21stbirthday!!), a 22-inch trace of 80-pound wire and I elected to give Maurice Rioli (a red and white Halco Laser Pro) a run. Maurice didn’t let me down. He was running the midfield, swimming nicely in the prop-wash about 15 meters back from the boat. We had only been trolling for a couple of minutes and I was about to give the boys the customary pep-talk about “this is the one we’ve been training for… you’re expected to give 100 percent out on the field today” etc etc when my line took off with the screaming of the drag ratchet. I excitedly shoved the rod butt in my gimble belt and just sat watching as 50 or 100 meters of line peel off the spool! The boys excitedly wound in and Mike grabbed the gaff. I suggested to Mike he might like to sit down and stow the gaff for a while, as this one wasn’t in a hurry to come to the boat. Finally, I sat on the bow with legs dangling over the side as I commenced to pump the rod and gain back some of the meters that this apparently big fish had ripped from the reel in that first big run. The tinny slowly turned and soon the fish was pulling us westward at a steady rate as I fought to gain more line. Fairly early into the fight the fish tired and I was making good headway. With a touch of sweat dripping from my brow in the morning sun I continued to pump the rod upwards and then wind on the downward action. After some minutes of good old-fashioned hard work I finally got the fish near the boat. Said fish decided he didn’t like the look of the boat he had been towing for several minutes and took off on another blistering, but shorter run. After gaining most of the line back, we glimpsed into oily smooth water to see a large silver shape slowly circling the boat. The magnificent fish was too spent to give another of his blistering runs. As I wound him close to the boat, Gary gaffed cleanly in the gills and Mike hoisted this huge pelagic into onto our limited deck space. I breathed a contented sigh of relief and gulped a few mouthfuls of water. It was only much later back at the beach that we truly appreciated the size of this magnificent fish – exceeding 20 kilograms! What a Leveque Monster!
Our two mornings of trolling off Leveque Island kept us entertained with some great action. We had trolled the oily smooth waters just north of Leveque Island for a couple of hours that morning. The action seemed fairly full-on for the first 90 minutes or so. Two more Mackerel were boated, several sharks were lost at the gaff (just trying to get our lures back) and a few potential monsters were lost due to knot/line failure with bust-offs mid fight. Gary Dinsdale wore a relieved smile when he boated his first mack – a lovely 12 kg specimen. Well done Gazza!
There’s something to be said about lightly floured fresh mackerel filets on the wood-fired barbeque plate with a dash of lemon juice and pepper. Not to mention a glass of good white wine both before, during and after the meal! We went all-out in the culinary department that evening: Gary’s happy salad along with couscous with water chestnuts and sliced beans. A sumptuous meal that filled the tummies of not so Grumpy Old Men!
The kind Kooljaman staff allowed us to put our filets in their cool room, but we kept enough for a spectacular Thai Green fish curry the next evening. I can recommend Kooljaman as a wonderful scenic place, ideal for a relaxing beachside break. The facilities are great. A wonderfully set up fish cleaning table, firewood, shop, great ablutions and even a restaurant (which of course blokes with our culinary talents didn’t need to visit!).
On the way back we dropped into Middle Lagoon for several days. We spent a delightful couple of days camped in the shade of the big Berry Tree. Middle Lagoon is around an hour back from Cape Leveque. It’s really laid back and relaxing. There is good boat launching across firm sand. About half an hour south is a creek. Dry sand at low tide, but a couple of hours later it can be 3 or 4 meters deep. We tossed soft plastics on our bait-casters and caught a few small fish including mangrove jacks and estuary cod. But burnt into my memory is when Mike drove into the mangroves on the bank about a kilometer upstream and said “This looks like a mud crab hole”. He took half a dozen steps, reached down into an innocuous looking hole and 30 seconds later was holding the biggest mud crab I’ve ever seen!!! And boy it tasted nice that evening!
We learnt a bit about place while we were there and we are sure to get back there again. The people are nice. Not to mention the lure of big fish. Whilst we didn’t catch any, one day we witnessed some big Spaniards on the filleting table.
FACT FILE
Getting There:
Cape Leveque is situated in the North West Kimberley of Western Australia. Drive 200 kilometers north of Broome on the Cape Leveque Road – as of 2021 the road is sealed all the way, however, the side tracks to the various camps are still dirt but the rest on the unsealed rough clay and sand road.
When To Go:
Kooljaman Cape Leveque was open from March to November each year, unfortunately, they closed at the end of 2021. The busy season is June/July. Average maximum temperatures range from 27 in July to 33 in April.
Kooljaman at Cape Leveque had a variety of accommodation including 14 safari tents (twin share), 2 en-suite cabins, 4 log cabins, 3 campground units, dome tents, 11 beach shelters and 26 campsites
Other campsites in the area include Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm and Gumbanan Wilderness Retreat.
Author’s Note:
•The “Grumpy Old Men On Tour” stories are from a set of trips beginning in 2005.
More Grumpy Old Men:
Kimberley Dreaming Part 2 – The Gibb River Road & Cape Leveque
