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The French colony of New Caledonia is the ideal island destination for sportfishing and diving holiday, situated northwest of New Zealand in the South Pacific.

If you are in to culture, shopping and dining, you will be intoxicated with Noumea, capital of the main island of Grand Terre. With superb museums, the exquisite dress shops of Rue de Sebastopol or the shops of Chinatown, and restaurants both simple and exclusive, Noumea has been called the Paris of the Pacific. If this isn’t enough then the Grand Terre is bordered by its grandest treasure, the worlds largest coral lagoon and second largest coral reef, where aquatic life bristles.

Due to the south east trade winds and New Caledonia’s location as one of the southern-most pacific islands, New Caledonia basks a temperate climate all year round. These warm, sunny days offer limitless opportunites for sportfishing and diving expeditions. Glorious coral, underwater canyons and caves supply the background for glorious dives and rich sportfishing.

Fishing holidays in New Caledonia is desirable for any type of fisher. Guided charter boats for deep sea and big game fishing; cruisers and catamarans for rod, spear, and fly fishing; or small, local boats are all available for lease. New Caledonia is well-known by fishers around the world as one of the greatest and most stunning bonefishing locations in the world. These fish are known for their strength and speed, and fisherman hoping to set records flock to this area.

The small islands and atolls are also perfect for snorkeling and diving. . . Whether diving in the still waters of Ile des Pins or night snorkeling where special torches illuminate fluorescent coral, New Caledonia is a diving holidays paradise.

Travellers would be hard pressed to find another destination on the earth that offers such an glorious medley of fishing and diving holiday pleasures.

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Catherine Kenyeres is a successful author and publisher for http://www.best-4u-fishing-equipment.com. Catherine has written numerous articles for the fishing enthusiast.

Fishing in the Ten Thousand Islands area near Chokoloskee, Florida for the first time was an experience to say the least. Surrounded by mangrove islands as far as one can see in any direction, it looks like a fisherman’s heaven, and by all reports, it is.

When targeting snook, I like to find a mangrove shoreline with deep water underneath. The problem in Chokoloskee is that this very closely describes about 6 million acres of back country.

We started the first day of fishing by picking a mangrove shore and pounding every cut, branch, root, and point for a couple of hours. We didn’t even get a nibble. As we made our way around the island, seeing beautiful shorelines with much the same luck, I finally saw it: a nice cut, perhaps fifteen feet deeper into the island than the shoreline on either side, with low hanging branches and a perceptible “hole” of deeper water rushing back under the mangroves to the island’s interior.

“If I was a fish, that’s where I’d be,” I told my fishing partner as I skipped a plastic lure into the branches several feet to the right of my target. He agreed with my assessment, and skipped his shrimp lure right into the sweet spot in the back of the cut. We both waited with our breath held for the explosion that would be sure to follow such a flawless cast. The explosion never came. We skipped a couple more times into the general area, assuming that the fish had simply been sleeping before, or perhaps didn’t see the bright white lure in the tannin-stained waters. Still, nothing.

That’s when the real problem dawned on me: I’m not a fish.

See, if I were a fish, I would have been there. And I definitely would have eaten that lure.

This explains the problems I sometimes have with my fly selection as well. That red and gold shrimp imitation looks great to me when I see it in the water. If I were a fish, I’d swim halfway across the county just to eat that.

But again, I’m not a fish. That’s probably why I’ve never caught anything on it.

This past weekend I hauled out the old canoe and joined some local kayak fishermen in a 7+ mile drift trip down the Econ river. I was on the river roughly ten minutes when I started seeing some very fishy pockets.

“If I was a fish, that’s where I’d be. And I’d be looking to eat a fly that looks like this one,” I said as I cast my fly in vain. And so it went for the rest of the day.

There’s no question. I’m not a fish.

Phil Simmons is a saltwater fisherman, writer, and administrator of Inshore-Fishing.com, a website dedicated to inshore saltwater and shallow water fishing.