Kalkan Fishing Report: A Tale of Heartbreak and Hope

Date: Late September 20

Location: Kalkan Harbour, Lycian Coast, Turkey

Time: 9:00 AM – 2:00 PM

Captain: Levant

Conditions: Blistering sun, already 30°C at launch. Mirror-calm sea.

The Plan:

The strategies were a classic Kalkan morning troll and some jigging. We left the picturesque Kalkan harbour and began working the lures just minutes out from the groyne. The aim was to cover ground, searching the reefs and drop-offs around the islands and reefs that dot this stunning coastline. I had envisioned a leisurely morning, letting the boat do the work while the lures did their magic with my feet up.

The Trolling Commences

The Session:

The “leisurely” trolling was a bit more active than anticipated, with Captain Levant advising a sharp whipping motion on the rod to give the Rapala-like lure a darting, erratic action. This action made my back ache, but I was determined to do it right and put the effort in as the sun blazed down on the canvas above us.

To mimic Sardines’ white and blue, the best colors are these

We worked hard, tracing 100 metres of line behind the boat, the lure dancing about a metre deep in our wake. Levant, a true professional, put us over every promising patch he knew, switching between trolling routes and even stopping to try some vertical jigging with 60g metals when we marked potential structure.

For three hours, it was pure toil under the very warm Turkish sun. The rods remained stubbornly still, the only sound the hum of the engine and the water slapping the hull. The initial excitement began to wane, replaced by grim determination. A couple of Turtles surfaced near the boat. I saw one in the harbour, too, the size of bin lids. It’s always nice to see these lovely creatures.

On we went, I was just thinking it’s not going to happen today.

The Strike, then, BAM.

The reel screamed into life, a sound that shocked me. I’d almost given up hope. Line stripped at an alarming rate. The skipper erupted, “Ohhh, Paul! That’s a good one!”. He estimated it at a solid 10 kilos. My heart was in my throat.

The fight was on. I settled in, pumping the reel, making slow but sure progress. I could feel the powerful, deep thuds of a substantial fish. Then, the fatal mistake. On autopilot, born from years of bass fishing, I inexplicably stopped pumping and resorted to a short, sharp pull-back.

The result was instant and devastating. The line went light. Horribly, sickeningly light.

The fish, and the lure, were gone.

The Aftermath:

The deflation was physical. My legs turned to jelly. I felt a crushing mix of foolishness and disappointment. One golden chance, handed to me on a plate by a skilled captain, and I had cocked it up. Plain and simple. The look of shared frustration on Levant’s face said it all. We fished for another two hours, but the spirit had gone out of the day. Not a sniff.

The Salt in the Wound:

As I left the boat despondent but wiser, vowing “next year,” Levant headed out for an afternoon session with new clients. The report came in later: they landed two cracking Spanish Mackerel. The fish were there; my luck, and perhaps my technique, were not.

Levant works from Kalkan Harbour

Conclusion:

There was only one prescription for such a pain: total immersion in the cold, comforting embrace of an Effes beer (or three). The memory of that lost giant will fuel my dreams and rigging checks until next year. The fish won this round, but the sea hasn’t seen the last of me.

On the positive, my wife was waiting for me at Cakil Beach Club, just a minute’s stroll from the harbour. That first Effes tasted amazing, so did the second and the third. It reminded me of John Mills in Ice Cold in Alex, the old war film, when he and his comrades emerge from weeks in the desert and have their first ice-cold pint of lager. It’s a scene that sticks with me.

Tight lines (and better luck) to all.

Levant Kaptan Tours 05537391885, if anyone fancies a trip, he is highly recommended