As a keen saltwater fly fisherman, my ultimate dream is to fish the shimmering flats of the Florida Keys. Dazzling images of this angling heaven have beckoned me from a thousand magazine pages and, more times than I'm comfortable admitting, I have slipped into fantasies of a classic glass-off on a Keys' flat, the water a mere 12-15 inches deep, with me the stealthy angler casting to the distant cruising shadows of tarpon . . .

These last few years, economic reality, family responsibility and other pesky pressures associated with being a grown-up have had the effect of postponing the realisation of my daydreams. But, so help me, like a pilgrim to his holy land, I'll get there one day. I suppose the Keys do represent a kind of Mecca for me, the acknowledged birthplace of saltwater fly fishing, bright shallows from which the sport has evolved in a scant few decades to spread its influence exponentially worldwide.

In the early '60s, the now legendary Lefty Kreh, Stu Apte, Mark Sosin and a few others were catching wild, powerful fish on these flats, using tackle that had been designed for the pursuit of freshwater species. High skill and high adrenalin sport rather than revolution may have been their goal, but during those heady days that core group of American anglers managed to push aside the tradition-bound envelope of fly fishing and formulate tackle and techniques that were to become the standards of a new sport. These guys literally wrote the rules you're governed by if you fish to the International Game Fishing Association's regulations.

The tsunami generated in the States back then reached these shores a handful of years ago and lately it's no exaggeration to say that the popularity of saltwater fly fishing is booming in Australia. Anglers who have spent their lives pursuing trout are getting into (relatively) heavyweight rods and using their finely tuned freshwater fly fishing skills to turn the heads of everything from giant trevally and queenfish in Australia's north to albacore and yellowfin tuna off the NSW coast. And, in the West, saltwater fly enthusiasts last year welcomed the inaugural fly-only sailfish competition in Broome. Having been personally involved in that tournament, I well remember the raw excitement the contest generated and I'm confident of its ongoing and growing success.

Having cast big flies to almost everything that swims around our coast, I can vouch for the thrills of the sport. But, over the years, I've felt that the biggest factor missing in our waters was 'Keys style' flats fishing - the chance to sight cast to big, powerful fish in skinny water. Sure, in the north there are many locations where you can sight cast to barra and other species on flats but these are operational only when clear water flows over them maybe every second set of neaps during the end of the dry season. I am also aware of limited flats fishing on both the north-east and west coast of Australia, but nothing has ever been seriously done to prove these waters and I doubt anything ever will, as the areas are few and the flats are small. It seemed that our closest extensive flats fishing was to be found in the Cocos Islands in the Indian Ocean or the shallows surrounding New Ireland and New Hanover in PNG . . . neither easily or affordably accessed regions.

It was not until I was invited to fish Queensland's Hervey Bay with local charter operators Sid Boshammer and Jeff Taylor that I realised that perhaps I could emulate my Floridian fantasies in waters closer to home. Sid and Jeff's operation Time 'n' Tide specialises in sport and fly fishing for anything from snapper to marlin from a 37 ft catamaran, doing three to seven-day live aboard trips. Noted fly fisho Rod Harrison had spent plenty of time with the boys and he tipped me off as to just how good the fly fishing could be around the bay.

I spent three days fishing the grounds north of Fraser Island and was having a ball, taking plenty of good fish on fly, including my first fly caught cobia. On the third day Sid pulled in a bonefish of about eight pounds on a baited hook and six kilo line. The fish came from about 20 feet of water and it certainly put up a spectacular fight for its diminutive size. The capture got me asking questions. How extensive were the bonefish stocks in the area? Were there any shallows where you could sight cast to bones? What about other species? I had heard that Fraser was home to some big oyster crackers or snubnose dart - close cousins to the permit, a famous USA flats fishing target. When I learned the extent of the flats around Hervey Bay and Fraser Island - they're massive - and realised that there were bones and permit swimming around on them, my imagination moved into overdrive.

Two days after the revelation, I was on a flat exactly as I had pictured in my daydreams. The sands were alabaster white, the water calf-deep and spirit clear . . . perfecto! There was a slow making tide and occasionally a faint breeze gently goose bumped the water. I had an 8-weight rod in my hand and a small Clouser Minnow, connected to an eight pound tippet, as my fly. Although I was in such shallow water, I felt way out of my depth as I strained to scan my surrounds for any signs of fish. As the tide made, I had resigned myself to abandoning my first real quest for bonefish when a fish-tail broke the surface about 30 feet in front of me. Then, a little further on, another appeared. Big yellow tails they were, belonging to big fish - not bonefish but golden trevally.

I cast to the first fish, careful to lead him by four or five feet, but, with my fly in flight, he disappeared. He resurfaced seconds later about 50 feet away, his tail waggling away like a taunt. Another cast and then a tangle and the fish moved on. During that first session I saw between thirty and fifty tailing fish and cast to maybe ten, for no strikes. I became so mesmerised that I had ignored the waters rising around me and ended up having to swim back to the boat.

In an excited postmortem, I peppered Sid and local fishing fanatic Ray about what I had seen. These golden trevally were all upwards of 15 pounds, with the biggest an easy 25 pounds. They were all in water less than four feet deep and were actively feeding on the yabby beds that made up a fair percentage of that particular flat. With their big rubbery mouths, the golden trevally appeared to be sucking the yabbies out of their homes, turning their bodies back and forth as they did so, with their tails often breaking the surface for a sort of fishy Chubby Checker effect. The best news of all was that the area was jam-packed with goldens and, as there were hundreds of flats similar to the stretch I had encountered that morning, there were countless opportunities for the taking.

That was in November 1994, and as I was driven to the small local airport for the flight home, still hungry for more time with the goldens and the elusive bonefish, I predicted that if Australia was ever going to have a popular Florida Keys style flats fishery, it would be located here between Hervey Bay and Fraser Island. Considering it was based on a couple of hours flats fishing, it was a bit of a grandiose statement, but I've stood by it ever since, and ever since I've also been hatching plans to get back to the area again.

ECO FISHING - Sid Boshammer had been excited by our brief flats experience and was keen to enlarge on it. For a long time this former surveyor had realised that if he and his family were to stay in the charter fishing business in Hervey Bay, sportfishing was the way to go. He could see the long term value and appeal of a primarily catch-and-release fishery, one that capitalised on species that were prolific in the area, and a fishing charter proposition where clients did not have to encounter a thousand fish a day to be happy.

Sid's efforts to develop such a fishery led him into discussions with the proprietors of the Kingfisher Bay Resort Village (KBRV), the internationally renowned eco-tourism resort on Fraser Island. The talks were fruitful, the Kingfisher people, headed by manager Linus Bagley, loved the concept of a catch-and-release fishery and, keenly aware of the burgeoning appeal of fly fishing, decided to further explore with Sid the possibilities of developing the fly fishing potential of the waters at their doorstep.

In October last year, in a plan to ascertain the 'fly fishability' of the region, Sid and the Kingfisher Bay crew drew up a list of a dozen or so of the country's better known fly fishers. This group was invited to take part in an inaugural KBRV Golden Trevally Fly Fishing Classic. Held in mid-December, the real purpose of the get together was to employ skilled talent to intensively explore the flats of Hervey Bay and Fraser Island, with the idea that if these blokes couldn't catch a fish on fly here, nobody could.

In a particularly civilised gesture, anglers' partners were invited along too, and all were entertained royally on daily 4WD tours of the island, sailing and canoeing trips, bushwalks, etc. Their job was to explore the options that make the undeniably spectacular Fraser Island pretty much the ideal family destination, and from all reports they threw themselves into the task. In total, thirteen anglers in six boats spent three days fishing the many flats, yabby beds, creek mouths and mud banks of the area. Local guides experienced in the bay's traditional fishing ways were on hand, and together the anglers, wading or fishing from the boats, managed to cast to dozens and dozens of flats feeding golden trev-ally. More than fifteen fish were hooked and finally six fish of between 70 and 80 centimetres (14-18 lb) were landed and released. There were also many confirmed sightings of the wily ghosts of the flats, bonefish, but no hook-ups were reported. Most bones encountered were only noticed after they had been spooked by either a boat or a wader. As more time is spent working the Fraser flats, I am sure they will become a regular target.

Snubnose dart were not encountered during the three days, but from local information, the species is by no means rare here and good numbers are often found feeding on the flats alongside the golden trevally. These fish are so close to the legendary USA permit that they could become a real drawcard in the future.

It was a privilege to be involved in that first Kingfisher Bay Classic, to be among the first to really work those shimmering flats with a fly and to be there at the beginning of what must surely become a highlight of the dedicated saltwater fly fisher's calendar. Compliments are due to all involved at the incomparable Kingfisher Bay Resort, not only for the foresight they have had regarding the potential of the area but for the very real commitment to excellence they appear to display at all levels. It's great to report that, due to the success of that first exploratory tournament, a second KBRV Golden Trevally Fly Fishing Classic will be held in March, during what is hoped will be optimum tides and weather conditions. If you're handy with a fly in salt water and, like me, you're drawn to the bright light and stealthy stalking of flats fishing, I wholeheartedly recommend the experience.

TACKLE AND TECHNIQUE - When I prepared my tackle for the inaugural KBRV tournament I was thinking strong 10-weight rods with weight-forward lines, believing that big trevally in skinny water were going to need some talking to! But, to my surprise, after three days fishing I realised I'd never picked up the 10-weight, instead consistently fishing with an 8-weight rod matched to a 9-weight WF floating line.

I found that the lighter rod threw a smaller diameter line into the wind more efficiently than a heavier outfit. The 8-weight rod was perfect for the flies we were using and, although a little light-on for the trevally, I found that if you kept the pressure on right from the word go, you could knock off an 18 lb fish in less than half an hour.

Many anglers at the comp used 10 and 11-weight rods and found them to be heavy, requiring much effort in the sometimes 20 knot breezes we contended with. In a sight fishery, anglers shouldn't get tired from casting all day - unless of course they are seeing fish all day! Blind casting on the flats is counterproductive as you tend to spook whatever fish may be around. I think the perfect outfit would be a saltwater strong 9-weight rod with a large diameter reel able to hold at least 300 yards of 30 lb backing, and with a decent drag, smooth and reliable. On more than one occasion, anglers were threatened with a spooled reel on their trevally's first run.

To present flies in the shallow water, I found that a tapered leader from 7 to 12 feet was best. I used a few kinds, including factory built saltwater tapered leaders from 8 to 15 pounds which were easy and effective but a little expensive. Using Mason hard-type mono to build your own tapered leaders is another way to go. Starting with two feet of 20 lb, then three feet of 15 lb tied to three or four feet of 10 lb or 8 lb worked for me. I used double uni knots or complete blood knots to join the lines, having lubricated them well and snugged them down tight before trimming. I joined the leader to the fly line with a loop to loop connection and used either a uni knot or nonslip loop knot connection to the fly, depending on the pattern used.

At the business end of the leader, the options are many. The golden trevally encountered during the tournament were hooked on everything from 1/0 white Deceivers and small orange and green Clouser Minnows to Pink Things and 3/0 red and black Seaducers. The trick is to observe the feeding habits of the fish on the flats. We found that the trevally were often feeding on yabbies, slurping them from their holes on a making tide. This had us using yabbie-style patterns such as Baited Breaths, various yabby imitations and Clouser Minnows. We also noticed trevally, which had seemed to be locked into yabbies, turn and wolf down stray herring that were silly enough to swim too close.

I stuck mainly to a 1/0 Clouser Minnow in contrasting colours such as green and white, blue and white or orange and green. A relatively small fly for a 15 lb plus trevally, but a good way of having an each-way bet in case a school of bonefish turned up.

These suggestions are admittedly based on fairly limited practical experience of the flats fishing at Fraser, but they should provide a start. We need to all do a great deal more research to work out the exciting potential of the area. That means a lot more fly fishing, and that's always a good idea.