It was a hot autumn day in Djibouti, the kind that seemed to press down on you with the weight of its heat. Isam, my trusted Sudanese seaman, and dear friend, and I found ourselves reminiscing about the days when the southern breeze would sweep across Sudan, offering a fleeting, cool respite from the relentless sun. The air was thick not just with heat, but with memories of simpler times, of open horizons and the freedom of the sea. Breaking the chain of nostalgic thoughts, Isam suddenly turned to me and said with quiet conviction, "You know, it's only a matter of time before we go back to Sudan, inshallah."

His words hung in the air, filled with hope and certainty. But I couldn’t help the skepticism that crept into my heart. Having witnessed how wars tend to linger like stubborn shadows in regions such as ours, I found it hard to share his optimism. I thought to myself, Of course, he would say that—Sudan is his home. Yet Isam was perceptive. He sensed my doubt and, undeterred, doubled down on his belief.

"The war is over," he insisted, his eyes reflecting a quiet fire. "Now they are just cleaning up. But the war is over. There's even a flight to Port Sudan."

Something about his unwavering faith stirred something deep within me. Despite my doubts, a spark of hope flickered to life. I couldn’t deny the pull of his words. Sudan wasn’t just a distant land on a map; it was a place filled with people I knew and cared about. We had three boats operating there, each manned by local crew members I considered more than colleagues—they were part of my extended family. Growing up in Croatia during the brutal civil war of the 1990s taught me a harsh truth: wars leave deep scars that last, not just on the land but on the soul. Yet, it also taught me something profound—that beneath the chaos, most people yearn for the same simple thing: peace and normal life. The prospect of returning to Sudan after years of uncertainty felt almost too good to be true. The past few years had been challenging for all of us at Wild Sea Expedition, and the thought of renewal was both exhilarating and surreal. Sudan was more than just a destination for us; it was a canvas that the Wild Sea Expedition had explored, developed, and brought to life under Nicola's leadership. We were the sole operators in that untouched paradise, a testament to our pioneering spirit. My love affair with the Red Sea had begun long before, seeded in childhood by captivating documentary films that showcased its vibrant marine life and mystique.

Team with locals on the random reef in the North.

From my first visit to Sudan until 2023, when conflict cast its shadow, my connection to the Red Sea deepened with every expedition. I had traversed fisheries around the globe, but Sudan held a magic that defied easy description. Its uniqueness was woven into the very fabric of its environment—650 kilometers of pristine shoreline split between our North and South itineraries. Each route presented distinct ecosystems and challenges, demanding adaptability and respect for the wild, untamed beauty of the region. Every trip was an adventure brimming with anticipation as if the sea itself whispered secrets just waiting to be discovered.

Navigating those vast, untouched waters, we rarely encountered more than a handful of small fishing boats. The rest was pure, unspoiled wilderness—just us, the sea, and the endless horizon. That sense of freedom was a rare and precious gift in a world increasingly defined by boundaries and restrictions.

Present day

A few weeks ago, one ordinary afternoon, as I was sorting through gear and finalizing logistics for my season in Djibouti, a familiar chime from my phone broke the monotony. It was a notification from WhatsApp. I glanced at the screen, and there it was—a message from Nicola. I opened it, and tapped on the message, and his voice burst through, filled with unmistakable excitement. "I have good news!" he announced, his words quick and vibrant. There was an energy in his tone that made me stand still: "Sudan has reopened." Though it was just a voice message, I could almost see his face, lit up with a broad smile, the kind that radiates pure, unfiltered joy. As those words sank in, a wave of emotion surged through me—a rush of exhilaration, relief, and gratitude all at once.

With a heart full of excitement and assurance, I can finally say it: Sudan is ready once again! The doors are open for new groups of fishermen eager to experience this incredible place. We will revive both of our itineraries, North and South, offering our guests the chance to immerse themselves in a sea world that has been waiting for their return.

A Little Bit About Sudan Itineraries and Fisheries

People often ask me which itinerary is better in Sudan, and even now, I can't give a definitive answer. The northern itinerary focuses primarily on fishing the coastal reefs and staying close to the shoreline. In contrast, the southern itinerary revolves around fishing around large and small islands that rise dramatically from deep waters, creating an incredible and unique environment that’s completely different from the north.

**One of many small islands of the South itinerary**

Both regions offer opportunities to catch big and small fish. The key difference is that the south tends to have more dogtooth tuna, although the north also boasts significant numbers. Triggerfish are abundant everywhere, and Sudan is often considered the triggerfish capital of the world. Alongside triggers, you'll find a great number of giant trevallies (GTs) on the flats, bluefin trevallies, snappers, and groupers. Bonefish were a common sight in 2023, often of impressive size, though their presence isn't always consistent. Nevertheless, they can be found in both the north and the south.

One thing is certain: no matter which itinerary you choose, the moment you approach a reef and your eyes lock onto a breaking wave, you'll witness an astonishing array of fish gathering around the reef—like peering into a living aquarium.

Fishing Basics

Sudan is best suited for advanced fly fishermen who can perform a proper double haul, an essential skill for any tropical fishing trip. Surprisingly, many people embark on these trips without mastering this technique. Even a month of practice before your trip can significantly improve your results, potentially turning missed opportunities into successful GT hookups. This is often the biggest challenge for traveling fly fishermen. A little practice can transform your trip from fish-watching to fish-catching.

Another common challenge is accurately casting to static targets like triggerfish. Triggers often tail in one spot, rooting around the bottom for food. Many fly fishermen are accustomed to targeting moving fish, like bonefish, which are easier to intercept with a cast. Casting precisely to a stationary fish at the right distance, and doing so quietly, can be quite difficult. That said, some triggers seem unfazed even when hooked. They are among the most intelligent fish in the world, a fact that becomes clear when observing their interactions with their environment. With their distinctive fins and body shape, they study their surroundings in great detail, moving slowly—not due to any lack of speed, but because they are constantly analyzing. This unique behavior makes triggerfish increasingly popular among fly fishermen.

WildSeaExpedition_Nubian_flats North_Sudan_10.jpg

For giant trevallies and other large predators like snappers and groupers, we use two primary techniques: sight-casting to fish cruising on the flats and teasing on the reef for those seeking an adrenaline rush. Teasing can be incredibly action-packed, with fish so large they may be impossible to land. These experiences create lasting memories and are often the highlights of an angler's adventure in Sudan.

As I write this, a flood of memories comes rushing back, each one vivid and alive. I can't help but wonder how the fishery has evolved over time, imagining the changes that have unfolded since my last visit.