Fly Paper

Quick Bonefish Tip #2

2012-02-27T18:02:00.002-08:00

Watch birds, sharks and 'cudas!

Sea gulls, pelicans and herons fly low over the flats and will often cause bonefish to spook or at least create a detectable, if subtle, dab of nervous water. Even a slight shudder can betray the presence of a bonefish and help you immensely by focusing your attention on a particular spot.

An osprey will actually take you right to the fish. Osprey will often hover over a school and will almost always cause bonefish to spook a bit giving you a welcomed shudder of nervous water.

Also watch sharks and 'cudas. They both push bones and also give you a clue as to their location. Even a small shark will cause bonefish to move out of the way.

Belize River Lodge Long Caye Outpost Trip report

2012-02-24T18:56:00.001-08:00

I just recently received this trip report from Chris Finlay on the Long Caye Outpost operated by Belize River Lodge. Sounds like a great trip... I thought it was interesting and that everyone would like to see it. Thanks Chris!

What I look for in a good fishing trip is easy travel, being remote without being uncomfortable, and really good fishing. As a self-employed, father of four, time is a premium and there is nothing worse than wasting four or five days with a bad trip decision. I recently returned from a really good trip to the Long Caye Outpost of Belize River Lodge with a fishing buddy, Jim, and felt compelled to spread the word.

When I was looking to plan my trip, I contacted my very trusted friend, Scott Heywood of Angling Destinations for recommendations. He understands my skill level, schedule requirements, and fishing preferences and has always made the perfect recommendations. Scott is a relationship guy who has been virtually everywhere in the fishing world and really takes pride in putting his clients in the right situation. This trip continued his perfect track record in this regard.

First off, Belize was really easy to get to from my home near Washington, DC. I left early in the morning, and arrived in Belize City at 11 am. As soon as we walked out the door, Mike, the owner of the Belize River Lodge, was waiting to whisk us away. The airport was efficient... bags came out quickly, and customs into Belize was simple. The people were friendly and were obviously happy to have us visit their country. Five minutes from the airport and we were at a boat ramp where a Panga was waiting to take us across the Belize River to the main lodge.

When we got to the lodge, Raul, our guide for the trip was waiting for us and ready to go. We handled the admin part of the trip up front with Margeurite, Mike’s wife, grabbed a couple recommended flies, just to be safe, and we were all set. We changed into fishing clothes, packed away our travel gear, and assembled a couple rods. Within an hour of landing, actually landing in the plane, we were in Raul’s boat and heading to fish.

Our first day was overcast, but with little wind, so we headed to the mangrove flats to target snook and bonefish on our way out to Long Caye. We decided that we would be better of fishing our way out with our gear in the boat, which is plenty spacious to accommodate the extra baggage, rather than simply take the hour boat ride out, drop our gear, and then fish. We were glad we did.

Jim kicked it off and by one o’clock had landed a bonefish. Not real big, maybe 2 pounds or so, but nice and feisty, and provided a couple good runs. After that fish, we pushed on and I was able to target a couple snook hiding under the mangroves branches shading the water. Casting into the mangroves reminds me almost of small stream fishing where you are trying to make quiet casts into pockets with overhanging mountain rhododendrons. In short, it is tough to get the fly deep enough under the branches without slapping the water with the line and fly to scare the fish off. Despite my generally mediocre attempts at this, the Puglisi Everglades fly coaxed the Snook out with an aggressive take. The real challenge came in getting the line on the reel without letting the fish get back under the mangroves and tangle the line on the countless branches and roots.

Our first day continued like this with us each landing several good fish. We ended the day casting to some resident tarpon. They generally snubbed our offerings, but I was able to jump one tarpon as the skies darkened. We fished until it was almost dark and we were forced to make the final 10 minute run to the Outpost Lodge. By the end of the first day, I was already amazed at the quality of the fishery. Not to mention that we got almost 5 hours of fishing time in on our travel day.

As we pulled up to the dock, Kevin was there to grab gear and show us to our accommodations. Mike, the lodge owner, indicated that he was trying to determine whether to call the Long Caye operation either “Long Caye Island Resort” or “Long Caye Outpost”. I think that Outpost is definitely a more accurate description. The “lodge” is made up of a guest house with three bedrooms (each with two twin beds), 1 bathroom, and a common living and dining area. The bedrooms and living area are not large. Since we were the only ones at the Outpost, we each had our own room and were quite comfortable. However, it would be tight to share a room with gear for a week, but doable since we were hardly there other than to sleep. I would also say that the accommodations would be very crowded and potentially uncomfortable with 6 people there unless it were family or good friends. In addition there is a kitchen and staff quarters and a guide shack for staff. The grounds were nice and picked up, and the facilities were clean.

Arita was our cook and she did a very nice job on pretty basic comfort food that stuck to the ribs, and always served with a smile. Kevin, the camp manager, was also great. He would grab he rods at the end of the day and rinse them off, kept the place going and generally was helpful in any way. All power was from a generator that ran the entire time we were there to ensure we had power for fans and lights and electrical sockets. The only real negative of the lodge for me was the fact that my cell phone worked there.

All in all, the Outpost is not fancy, but the location is awesome and really provides about an extra 2 hours of fishing each day. I will trade fancy food and accommodations all day for better fishing, but in this case, we really didn’t sacrifice much either way.

For the next two days, the weather was beautiful and we primarily targeted permit out at the reef and tarpon along some of the ocean side mangrove flats. There were no shortage of fish in any of these places and our success was only limited by our inexperience fishing to these species. In particular, the tarpon proved a challenge to get the strip set successfully, but we had numerous strikes and jumped a couple. Jim in particular had great success with his black and purple Puglisi Peanut Butter fly but they simply proved elusive to the hookset for us.

As I mentioned, our guide was Raul, the head guide at Belize River Lodge. He was the consummate pro. He must have gotten frustrated at times with our missed opportunities, but he never let us know it. He has a great attitude and was a lot of fun to be around and fish with. He worked tirelessly poling us around in his Panga against the wind, against the current, and always seemed to have the boat positioned properly to give us the best shot at the cast. What struck me as perhaps the most differentiating is that if he missed seeing a fish that we pointed out, instead of making an excuse, he simply stated that he did not see it, or was looking in another area. To me, his honesty really fit with his whole personality. The other notable point to make is that we fished long hours. We would leave the outpost by about 7 and did not return until almost 6pm when it began to get really dark. Since we began fishing about three minutes from the Outpost, we really could maximize our fishing time. It was really amazing if you think in terms of time fishing. It is like adding an additional day of fishing time in a three-day trip.

My personal highlight of the trip came as it was getting dark on the last night of our trip. We were back to a spot close to camp that we had routinely seen tarpon up on the flats right next to a deep channel. Up on the flats they seemed only mildly interested in feeding, instead choosing to head to the channel to feed. It was as if they were mocking us rolling out in the channel after they leave the flats. We could not reach the fish from the flats. So, Raul positioned the boat out in the channel and dropped the anchor so that we could have real shots at getting to where the tarpon were rolling.

I started throwing a Black Death fly, which got looks and a strike on the flats, but seemed to get no interest in the deeper channel. Raul looked at my fly box and selected a chartreuse and white Clouser type fly (on steroids with big lead eyes and a 3/0 hook). Within a couple casts into the channel where the fish were rolling I was able to get a strong strike and a solid hookset. It is simply amazing to see a fish this big to jump and run and fight like it does, (and this was just a relatively small tarpon.) After numerous jumps and runs, I finally landed the fish after about 25 minutes. As it began to get tired and was closer to the boat, it made no less than a dozen passes under the boat giving its last effort to get away. I can now tell you that I am addicted to tarpon fishing for life.

Our final morning, Sunday, we woke up, having packed our gear the night before, and had a nice breakfast. The sun was mostly out, but the wind was kicking pretty hard. We had a leisurely breakfast, finished packing, said our goodbye’s to the staff, and loaded our gear for the hour trip back to the lodge. Our flight was not until 3:30 to head back. We thought our flight was earlier so we poorly managed our day. We could have easily gotten another half day of fishing in. Alternatively, there are Mayan ruins within 30 minutes as well as Rainforest Zip Lines and floating underground rivers with headlamps, all three of which I intend to do on my next trip.

In summary, this was a great trip based upon a several specific factors:

1. Access was easy and fast. The fact the Belize River Lodge is only a few minutes from the airport is key. Also, the great attitude and efficiency of the airport and customs staff in Belize is in my experience wholly different from the Bahamas, and made getting out of the airport a quick pleasure. A Thursday to Sunday trip would easily allow 2 full days and 2 long half days of fishing.

2. Raul was a great guide, perhaps the best all around that I have had the pleasure to fish with. He worked long hours with a smile on his face. He provided good instruction on casting tips and knew where to find fish in all conditions.

3. The Long Caye Outpost was comfortable and right in the middle of great fishing. I think it added almost 2 hours to our fishing day to stay there rather than the main lodge. For two of us, it was spacious and very comfortable. The staff is very friendly, the house was clean, and the food was good.

4. The variety of fishing options is unlike anything I could have imagined. I can see how a better (or a little luckier) fisherman could have real opportunities for grand slams and super grand slams. The fish were everywhere in good numbers. Even permit were routinely spotted, both out at the reef, along some of the beach areas, and on the flats.

The Long Caye Outpost is a relatively new offering for Belize River Lodge, and I think a very positive option under the right circumstances. I strongly recommend this trip.I am personally looking forward to getting back down there with my sons (ages 13 and 11), not to mention that this may be my new favored long weekend getaway.

The Most Interesting Angler in the World

2012-02-22T18:51:00.000-08:00

He is the most interesting angler in the world...

He can cast with both arms... and one leg.

He doesn't look for fish, they look for him.

He always leaves fish to find fish... and finds fish.

He doesn't tie knots, they tie themselves.

He has caught fish in destinations he has never visited.

He can fool all of the fish all of the time.

He has fished on nine continents.

He removed a hook from a man's forehead using a toilet plunger and a pat of butter.

His enthusiasm is so contagious, vaccines were made for it.

He was once skunked, just to see how it feels.

He fishes vicariously, through himself.

He once caught a tarpon using dental floss and a bottle cap.

Lefty Kreh calls him for advice.

His bucket list says "done".

He doesn't tie knots, they tie themselves.

For fishing questions, google googles him.

For him, they call it catching and not fishing.

He is the most interesting man in the world.

...stay thirsty my friends.

Jolly Rancher

2012-02-19T16:21:00.002-08:00

Jeff tossed me a small zip-lock filled with Jolly Ranchers. I tucked the candies in my shirt pocket as Stanford slid the throttle forward. We streaked towards shore. The 4-stroke was barely audible on this soft morning. We motored up a creek and soon Stanford cut the engine. I could see bonefish scattering in five feet of gin-clear water that was quickly draining over a mocha-colored bottom. The sky was overcast with rain clouds scudding in from the west. The tide had just turned off high and a light wind slightly scuffed the flat. These were poor conditions to find bonefish so we sought the lee of an island where we had a small "window" of calm water augmented by better visibility due to the reflection of the dark mangrove bushes. We hoped to see fish in this narrow ribbon next to shore. I hopped out of the boat and waded along the edge of this low, mostly submerged, cay. I waded quietly over a hard coral bottom riddled with crab holes. Brian waded north along the other edge while Larry went with Stanford to pole another small cay.

I immediately spotted a small bonefish in the calm window. He was fearless and aggressive and pinned my fly to the bottom almost the moment it hit the shallow shore water. "Maybe this won't be too bad." I thought as I reloaded and watched the released 3 lb. bone swim away. As I lost track of my previous catch, I spotted a small disturbance a few yards back in the mangroves. A big tail spiked up, then flapped over comically as mud roiled at the base of a small mangrove shoot. I followed the tail as it disappeared only to see it poke up again a few feet further away in the mangroves. The bushes were too dense to even consider a cast. I popped a watermelon Jolly Rancher pausing to consider my options. I put a few additional candies in my fly box and closed the lid.

Maybe I could spook him out of the mangroves. A piece of coral well-thrown might spook him just enough to encourage him to swim out... then I could get a shot. I squatted down to search for a piece of coral, but as I did, I briefly lost sight of the fish. Fortunately he tailed again. If I lost sight of the fish, a hunk of coral was of no use to me. What to do?

Then a thought came to me... a thought so brilliant that I now consider it to be perhaps the pinnacle of my angling career. An idea that I congratulated myself for even before I had tried it. Emboldened by my obvious genius, I took the Jolly Rancher from my mouth and holding it like a dart, pitched it to the left and just slightly beyond the fish. At the splash, the bone darted about two feet then turned and meandered ten feet to the mangrove's junction with the calm slick. I casually flipped my Labrador deceiver (a fly tied from my dog's fur... but that's another story) and he pounced, flaring his dorsal fin as he sucked the fly back toward his crushers. I struck and he ran towards deeper water.

Yes, I landed the fish, but all that was meaningless. What was important was that I was a clever little monkey. This hairless ape had devised a new angling technique... the Jolly Rancher Flanking Maneuver and I was a smiling mass of self-congratulations, laughter and pure homo sapien piscatorial pleasure. I donated another Jolly Rancher further down the shore and it worked like a charm with similar results. This one was grape. I really think any flavor will work, but remember, if considering the JRFM, please remove the wrapper first.

Los Roques 2012: Photo Essay and Excerpt

2012-02-17T10:18:00.007-08:00

Here is an excerpt from the trip report on our recently completed adventure to Los Roques, Venezuela.
For the complete report, go to:
Los Roques Trip Report

...My favorite flats are the pancake flats and they are why I come to Los Roques. These flats rise like a string of pearls from aquamarine, cobalt and turquoise channels. Pancake flats are impossibly beautiful places and there are hundreds of them in the archipelago. A typical pancake is usually from one or three acres and takes a little under an hour to fish. It’s not hard to see how they got their name. Most pancake flats are not perfectly round. They look more like homemade flapjacks formed from too thin a batter. The colors too are reminiscent of pancakes. Like freshly flipped ‘cakes they are predominantly golden brown with shades of amber and vanilla. To exhaust the analogy, blueberries would be the turtle grass patches and almonds would be the crunchy patches of brittle coral.

Anglers often seek a pancake’s sandy spots as bonefish are more easily seen here, but the darker turtle grass can be prolific. Bonefish often tail where mud can be excavated, but the water can be so shallow on a pancake flat that a bonefish tail simply is seen... they are not officially “tailing”. Small brown and green crabs and root beer or amber colored crustaceans form the template for the patterns of choice. Small flies in #6-8 with rubber legs (especially the new banded micro legs) and little flash hold meaning. Bring your Bahamas assortment and you’ll wish you checked a bit more deeply for appropriate patterns.

The bonefishing in Los Roques can be fantastic, but it often is not easy. The fish are big and smart and anglers from all over the world love Los Roques. (Some of the anglers we met at the Acuarela were convinced that Los Roques had the best bonefishing in the world. Although I could make a case for other destinations being the “best”, their passion for Los Roques is typical and anglers have a tendency to come back again and again.) There are times when the fish seem to eat every properly presented fly and other times when “bitchy” seems to be the appropriate word. Visiting anglers should expect to listen to their guides, but yet tell them what they want. This can sometimes best be done by communicating with the highly competent owner/outfitter Chris Yrazabal during dinner the night before when guide assignments are made. And speaking of guides, each guide works with a boatman. When you finish up with a flat, the boatman is signaled to fire up his motor. Soon, he is there to pick you up so no time is wasted walking back to the boat. The guides use comfortable 28 foot pangas that swiftly carry you from one flat to another. These chop cutting, very dry craft also have a bimini roof that allows one to escape from the midday sun.

Upon Closer Inspection

2012-02-16T18:54:00.000-08:00

While editing my photos from Los Roques, I noticed something in the gullet of a hefty blue runner that was destined for guide Darwin's dinner plate.

First I noticed a sea lice in the mouth of the blue runner so I looked a bit more carefully.

....and lo' and behold:

A closer look showed baitfish literally overflowing from the gut of this fish. Guess its no wonder why gummy minnows work so well at Los Roques. Incredible!

Juvenile Tarpon in Los Roques

2012-02-16T08:06:00.000-08:00

Here is an interesting exchange between Doug Jeffries (an old friend who joined me in Los Roques last week) and Aaron Adams who is Director of Operations from the Bonefish and Tarpon Trust and a senior scientist at the Mote Marine Lab in St. James City, Florida.

I’ll be posting my Los Roques story and some photos this week, but in the meantime I thought blog members might find this interesting:

Hi Aaron,
Just got back from Los Roques. We went into a lagoon in the interior of one of the islands and caught juvenile tarpon around 10 - 12 inches long. Caught snook about the same length. The guides told us they have seen tarpon up to 12 kilos in there. Are these [10-12 inch fish] yearlings? There is no obvious fresh water source into this lagoon. I thought juvenile tarpon wanted the ability to travel into fresh / brackish water. Can you tell me anything about these fish? Thanks, Doug

Doug,

I'm not surprised that you found the juveniles. Although commonly in brackish water, it's not required. What is required is backwater - areas that have soft, mucky, out of the way mangrove or marsh habitats. I imagine the lagoon had some of that habitat around its edges. It might also be possible that there is a freshwater spring in there somewhere. I've seen that on some of the islands off the coast of Belize.

The 12" fish were less than1 year old (typically expect tarpon at 1 year to be about 16"), so they were probably spawned last year. If the lagoon is entirely closed off to the ocean, those 12 kilo tarpon are stuck for life. If the lagoon has a connection to the ocean, then I'm not surprised - larger fish often move into backwaters. Even at 12 kilos, still not an adult! Aaron

Aaron,

Thanks for the quick reply. The lagoon was exactly was you described - soft mucky bottom that stank of decomposition, especially around the edges. The middle was firmer, more sandy. Lots of downed trees and cover. Floating grass beds along the shore. There may have been a spring but we didn't see any sign of it. Did feel cooler water along one channel and I suspect that's were the inlet/outlet comes from. Scott Heywood hiked farther down that channel than I but the salt marsh mosquitos won that battle and drove him back to the main lagoon.

So if these fish are less than a year old, their parents must spawn somewhere close to the island, right? I used to catch similar sized fish as a kid living in the Panama Canal Zone. We'd ride our bikes out to the drainage canals (muddy, brackish water and throw tiny lead head jigs). Those canals went directly to Cristobal Bay or the ocean. But they also got flushed regularly by the heavy rainfall. Doug

Doug,

Tarpon larval stage can be weeks to months, so they can be local or could be coming from many hundreds of miles away. Aaron

Water Cay Lodge Photos

2012-02-03T11:06:00.000-08:00

After the Fly Fishing in Saltwaters e-mail, we've had quite a few requests for more photos of the Water Cay Lodge on Grand Bahama Island including more on rooms, boats, dining room etc. Here are a few that I hope will give you a better idea of what the lodge and boats look like:

Quick Bonefish Tip

2012-02-01T12:41:00.001-08:00

Notice where the guide and the fisherman are walking.

If you are walking a beach looking for bones, walk on the soft sand above the sand wetted by the waves. This wet sand acts like a drum and conducts the sound your footsteps make much better to bonefish cruising the beach than does the dry sand. Sound when bonefishing is your enemy! Yes, it's harder to walk in the dry sand, but it is much quieter, you are further away from the water and you have a better vantage point.

Shoulder Season Trout Part 2: Fall

2012-01-29T16:32:00.000-08:00

Saturday was the perfect October day... 65 degrees, sunny and dead calm. So perfect that I was in a t-shirt and and an old ratty pair of shorts. Although it seemed like a long way off on a day like this, I was getting things ready for winter. I pulled the water pump from the irrigation ditch and attached the snowplow to the 4-wheeler as I muttered to myself how I was wasting this beautiful day with chores. I gained some solace knowing that I had made a very adult, if not stupid, choice. I promised myself I would fish tomorrow and not mire myself in such useless behavior. Now don’t get me wrong, I am hardly Mr. Responsible. I had fished twice last week on local ranches with great success. I just wanted to go do it again! After all, we had a once-in-a-millennium grasshopper plague this summer and the trout have been big, eager and unbelievably fat. Last Sunday, I had caught quite a few fish and two browns over 22 inches. One had a girth of 13.5 and the other 14.5 inches. Now those are very big trout for a small ranch stream... and catching them on hoppers is an addicting activity.

As I slogged through my chores, I thought about getting another crack at this one ranch and maybe repeating my success. I knew I couldn’t surpass last week’s experience, but one more big fish before winter set in would be great.

I decided I would go tomorrow. I now worked with greater diligence and finally finished my work in the late afternoon. I then threw some gear together for tomorrow. This wasn’t difficult... waders, 4 wt., reel and most important, the HOPPER BOX! I didn’t even bother with nymphs, or a baetis box, or any of the myriad of other dry fly boxes I usually shove into every available pocket when I leave the car to head to the river. If I didn’t make it with hoppers tomorrow, I would come home. I knew this was more bravado than any risky leap of faith. But it felt edgy and cool so I stuck with it. After loading my gear in the car, I decided to check the weather for tomorrow. I opened “The Weather Channel” website and there in big letters:

A WINTER STORM WARNING FOR HEAVY SNOW WILL BE IN EFFECT FROM NOON SUNDAY UNTIL MIDNIGHT MDT MONDAY NIGHT. TRAVEL WILL BE HAZARDOUS TODAY AS SNOW CONTINUES TO FALL ACROSS THE AREA. THE HEAVY EARLY SEASON SNOW MAY ALSO CAUSE DOWNED TREE LIMBS AND POWER LINES... RESULTING IN WIDESPREAD POWER OUTAGES. THE SNOW WILL TAPER OFF MONDAY EVENING WITH TOTAL ACCUMULATIONS OF 15 INCHES AND LOCALLY HIGHER AMOUNTS.

GREAT! I burned this beautiful day doing chores and now tomorrow would be snowy and cold. I was pissed! It was October 5th and I knew the hopper fishing was just about over. This storm would seal the deal. Frustrated, I looked at the hour-by-hour report to see when the storm would actually roll in tomorrow. The precipitation potential went from 20% to 50% at 12:00 noon. In the morning, the potential remained at 20% from 8 until 11:00 AM, but then the temps would drop progressively until it reached the lower 30’s. Hmmmm... maybe, just maybe, if I was fishing by 9:00 AM, I could catch a fish before the storm shut everything down. Maybe, the fish would be eager to eat before the storm. Maybe they wouldn’t need the heat of the day to become active as they always do this time of year. Maybe the memory of tasty hoppers would be enough to overcome the cold and drive them to the surface. Maybe, I was an idiot and I should just go unpack the car. Maybe because you want to do something doesn’t mean it will happen. Maybe, maybe... Maybe, I’ll just wait and see how the weather is in the morning.
At 8:00 AM, under sooty skies and 34 degree temps, I found myself in the car on the way to the river. Talk about wishful thinking... the ceiling was dropping along with my attitude. I consoled myself by noting at least it was calm. By 9:00 AM, as it started to spit sleet, I was “wadered up” and walking to the river. I promised myself I would fish for two hours so I could make sure I could get home. I knew we had a buster of a storm on the way. You could literally smell it in the air and I didn’t want to spend the night weathered in at a local motel because of my idiotic need to catch one more fish.
Once at river’s edge, I sat down on the still green summer grass and quietly skooched down the bank until I could step into the flat run. Last Sunday, under clear skies and warm temps, I had caught a 22” brown here and since this day was all about trying to recapture past glory, I decided to start here again. It is a beautiful spot. The willows were a bright yellow and red chokecherry bushes, their branches laden with ripe berries, sagged reaching out over the stream. Two rooster pheasants sat in one bush, munching contentedly, no doubt stocking up for the storm. I ignored them and they ignored me as I worked the bank with a big foam hopper. On my two previous outings, I had my best luck either under the willows or along floating weed beds where browns could safely lie unexposed and wait for hoppers to be blown into the river. I tried river left, then cast to the other bank drifting my fly along an edge where some branches had collected moss and leaves forming a 10 foot long island. I watched my fly until I felt resistance. I looked down to see a loop of line wrapped around my hemostats. I fumbled with cold fingers to unhook the line. I then blew briefly in my hands as I brought my eyes back to the weed bed. Now I couldn’t find my big hopper! I saw no disturbance and assumed that I had lost my fly in the flat light. Just in case, I struck halfheartedly. My line came firm and a big fished rolled provocatively, then raced upstream. My day was made! If I didn’t get another look, I could go home happy. It hadn't taken long!
With frozen fingers, I got the fish on the reel and let the drag work to slow her down. Soon, I was measuring a 20” brown. I slid her back into the steely blue water. The temperature had seemingly dropped 10 degrees while I was landing this fish and big fluffy snowflakes now started to fall! Suddenly, I was really cold! I fished the rest of the run then got out and walked upstream to fish the next run.... then the next. A cold wind picked up and drove hard at me out of the northwest. I stopped to add another layer and pulled on a wool cap. I hate gloves so I decided to tough it out. The wind ruffled the water’s surface except on the upwind side underneath the willows. I concentrated my efforts there.
In one riffle, I had another take and again didn’t realize it until it was too late. The low light and strong wind made for tough visibility and that combined with the penetrating cold slowed my reaction time. When it finally dawned on me I had a take, I only grazed the fish with the hook point. I watched numbly as a boil developed where the fish had finned away. The thing about being really cold is that you can tell yourself to concentrate and do better, but the body just doesn’t follow. It has a mind of its own. I decided I had better cherry-pick the best spots and get the hell out of here before I was either hypothermic or weathered in. I fished a long slick that last week had produced two 22” fish and one 23” monster. I waded slowly up to a willow that overhung what I knew to be deeper holding water. I was eager to see what this sexy spot held today.

I cast my hopper across the stream and luckily tucked the fly under the willows only inches from shore. It drifted about 4 feet before it was pinched between the jaws of something big. With muscles not taking orders too well, I clumsily pulled up on the rod tip. I saw a flash of yellow and red and knew a big buck brown in spawning regalia was on the line. He came quickly to my side and I, in my cold-addled state, thought he was cold like me and was not up to the fight. As I reached down to unhook him, he exploded. He porpoised and then ripped upstream, obviously not effected one bit by the cold. He made two spectacular jumps, then turned toward the bank and some brush. I couldn’t keep up with the slack and he burrowed through two brush piles before the pressure suddenly went off my line. I waded over to untangle the mess knowing he was off and I would now have to reach my hand into the frigid water to get my fly back. I then felt the line pulse! With increased urgency, I kicked at the first brush pile lifting the mess with my foot. I grabbed my line and pulled it free of the bundle. I tried the same thing with the second jumble of branches, but I couldn’t lift the tangle very high off the bottom so I rolled up my sleeves and grabbed the highest branch. I pulled the whole mess to the surface. My hands were now numb. I got the line free and realized the fish had burrowed into some weeds next to shore. I jammed my arm in the water and pulled the line through the weeds and again he took off like a rocket. This time he didn’t make it as far. I soon landed him. He seemed a bit odd and when I held him out of the water, I could see his spine was badly deformed where a large wound had healed on his left side.

His spine looked like 3 inches had been excised from his back then the two ends put back together. He must have lived this way a long time. Maybe an otter or an osprey had grabbed him when he was just a parr-marked youngster. This guy had the head of a 26” fish, yet his body measured only 23 inches. I admired this survivor and wanted to get him quickly back in the gene pool. So after measuring him, I took a photo and slid him back into the stream. As he finned away, I encouraged him to spawn well. I caught a few more fish, but the cold and swiftly deteriorating conditions soon drove me off the river. It took the drive home to get feeling back in my hands. Just as I pulled in my driveway the snow from what would soon become a full scale blizzard began to fall harder. As I watched the storm build, I completed a few “indoor chores”. My fingertips tingled all day, I’m sure this was because they were just itching to get just one more chance at those big browns on hoppers this fall.

Shoulder Season Trout Part 1: Spring

2012-01-29T15:59:00.000-08:00

As January stumbles into February in Wyoming, some of us start to think of spring. With summers being so short here, we will stretch spring into winter and pursue summer late into the fall...
Here is spring's story:

Sunday, April 18, was a beautiful day...65 degrees and sunny with wisps of rain moving in from the mountains. After taking Gus and Tut, my two Weimaraners, for a walk, I decided to drive the 25 minutes to Buffalo and fish my favorite stretch of water. This creek looks like any other river from the road, but if I had to choose, I would call it my home water. Although I live 60 miles from the fantastic Bighorn River and fish it often, I know this little stream better than any angler alive. I have fished it hundreds of times over the past 12 years and have learned many of its secrets. Sometimes I go after work or when I have only a few hours to fish.

The section I fish is on a private ranch. The owner lets me fish the mile and a half of river that runs on his property any time I want. I’ve explored every inch of it. He has been great to me. We often sit and chat riverside before I get impatient and start making excuses so I can get on the water. He is in his 90’s and his wife is very sick so every day I’m on this stream, I figure it might be my last. The ranch is just out of the foothills where the prairie still has some relief making it a great combination of classic riffled runs and long elegant slicks. Very few people get to fish it... it's just me, a few of our clients and a couple old timers from Gillette who throw Mepp’s spinners in the pools every now and then. It can be a tough river and it has a limited season. You can get in a few good days in April after ice-out and before run-off, a few days in June and July after run-off and before the irrigators suck it down and a few days after irrigation and before the water gets too cold again in the fall. It seems to be either really good or not so good. I either hit it right or go home consoled by the fact that this little slice of heaven was all mine for the day. A few of our clients have hit it right and had spectacular days. The majority have turned only a couple fish and never wanted to fish it again. I guess I can’t blame them, but what they don’t know is what I do know...and that is what lurks below.

What makes this stream so unique is there is always the possibility of a big fish. On most streams this size, an 18” trout would be a trophy. Not on this stream. Most fish will be at least 18 inches and go up from there. I’ve caught many 20” fish and a few in the 21, 22, 23” inch range. Twelve years ago, I caught a 25.5 inch rainbow and ten years ago a 26 inch brown. I’ve thought those times were over, but last summer, I caught a few 23” fish so maybe the fish are getting bigger again. In any case, I think any fish over 20” makes your day. On this stream, you’ll never rack up big numbers, but if you can manage to hook some fish, they will be quality specimens. All you need is the patience to risk getting skunked and the drive to fish hard until the point you hook one of these monsters.
This last week, spring decided to poke her head out in Wyoming and see if the coast was clear. Now, the willow shoots have turned yellow, pasque flowers are popping up amongst the yucca and sage and most trees have buds. As I pulled on my decrepit waist high waders and noted a new pair was in order, I listened to a dozen sandhill cranes that were reintroducing themselves after their long migration. They chatted noisily in the middle of a horse pasture formed by an ox bow in the river. Soon, I was walking down the lane towards the hay mow, now just a collection of bailing twine and loose hay remnants matted down by winter. As I got to the irrigation ditch, I stepped over a snapping turtle. I snapped a few photos as it lumbered through the cow patties making its way from the main stream to a cattail slough. I could hear meadowlarks, red winged blackbirds and pheasants. This was the kind of day when if you were still, you could hear the thrum of an earth coming back to life.

It wasn’t long before I was at the river’s edge. I slid down the bank and walked through the honey-colored winter grass spooking one of last year’s whitetail fawns. I stepped into the stream. The water was cold. I wondered if too cold for the fish to feed today. Sitting on the bank with my feet in the water, I rigged a big foam spider on 9’ of leader then dropped a size 16 prince nymph on 5X two feet below my spider/strike indicator. I often start here where the stream splits around a little island forming a fast run on the right and a slow deeper pool on the left. I nipped off the tag ends of my leader, and waded to the bottom of the island positioning myself to fish the right riffle.
From this vantage point, I could literally touch with my rod tip a half dozen spots where 20+” fish had been caught in previous years. Behind me, in a deeper trough below some willows, I had gotten two 22” browns on hoppers on two separate days last summer. There would be no fish there now; they would be in the runs waiting for nymphs to come to them and not in the still water under the willows hunting for hoppers. To my left and up the other channel, I had caught a 21” rainbow on a blue dun at a spot where a Russian olive tree reached out over the channel. Below me in the confluence of the two channels, I had caught a 22” brown in the heat of summer three years ago that had been tailing on a crayfish. He had delicately eaten my beetle like someone eats an exotic hors d’oeuvre they think its food, but they’re not quite sure. So many good memories and the whole river is like this for me. Every bend, every pool, every riffle holds a memory. This is home water...a place to fish and a place to remember.

Interrupting my reverie, I made my first cast and caught a beautiful 18” brown hen. She was deep and strong and had obviously wintered well. What was a plague for the ranchers was a bounty for the trout, and last summer’s hoppers had no doubt put her in good shape. She had emerged from winter fat and healthy. As the sunlight became muted thru the first of series of light rain clouds, I took a few photos of her then slid her back into the cool stream. I checked my fly and waded back to fish the run again. This time I cast across the run and probed an eddy line on the far side. The line came taut. I hauled an 8” fish up into the Wyoming sky. What a ride that must have been! On this river I’m always thinking big fish and when you tag a minor, it can involve adrenaline for you and air time for them. I unhooked the little brown and went right back to the run. The rust-colored spider slowly spun its way downriver thru the eddy. I squinted, trying to keep contact with my fly in the diffused sunlight. Then the spider disappeared. I struck and knew immediately I had a good fish. It was that pleasing thunk that occurs when a big jaw is pierced. The fish didn’t move much, but I knew it was not a snag because I could feel a slight pulse. Then, all hell broke loose. The fish jumped 2 feet out of the water not a rod length away at eye level. He smacked the water, then raced downstream.
Now, there is that moment when a particular fish is hooked that your day goes from run-of-the-mill normal to rare once-in-a-lifetime spectacular. When these moments happen you know you will always remember them. You can tell when these events occur because you suddenly really care if you land the fish, not so much because you want to be successful, but because you want to see the fish and see how big it is and to feel it in your hands. You want the unknown to be known. This was one of those moments. This fish was huge...huge for a stream with big fish. After this fact was reconfirmed by yet another spectacular jump, the fish raced downstream. I knew with 5X tippet on a size 16 fly, it wouldn’t take much line drag to pop the fly or break the tippet. I needed to stop him from getting too far downstream. I needed to chase him...now!

I couldn’t control him from where I was, He was starting around a bend and if I stayed in this spot, his trajectory would pull him into some willows and debris. I had to wade across the river and get a better angle. Once on the other side, I thought I could move downstream after him. He was a handful and I knew he was a "he" from his huge kyped jaw so elegantly displayed during his last jump. I waded into the main channel. It was deeper than I thought. I spilled water over the top of my waist highs, but didn’t care. I’m not sure I even felt it. On tippy-toes, I made my way through the deepest portion then relaxed as it got shallower. I reached the far bank and crawled up the slippery bank. Luckily, this new angle prompted my fish to move back upstream towards me. I madly retrieved line concentrating on keeping my rod tip bent and still. Soon he stopped to sulk in the middle of the stream. Now, I was having a hard time moving him at all. I knew I needed to put pressure on him and decided it was now or never. I pushed the 5X to the limit and he rose up off the bottom. Eventually, I was able to move him more easily towards my side of the river. I waded downstream to reach a small beach where I thought I could land him. I swung him in, reached a hand under his belly and slid him up onto the sand of the beach.
“Holy shit” I said aloud to myself.
I watched him for a moment then pulled out a tape. I got his length at 24” and his girth at 16.5”. I frenetically took photos most of the time keeping him in the water to do so. I wanted to keep him, to take him home, introduce him to my friends, put him on a leash and take him for a walk...anything but let him go again. Soon reason prevailed and I pulled the tiny prince nymph out of his upper jaw and held him in the current. His massive hooked jaw pulsed as he sucked in water. Soon, his tail moved and his body started to twist in my hand. I let him slide out of my grip into deeper water. He finned out of sight quickly. I was wet to the elbows with sand and mud and could barely see out of my fish splashed sunglasses. I could feel the water in my waders, but thought it a fair trade.

It took awhile to get cleaned up. Then I walked slowly up to the next run...one of my favorites. I caught a 20” fish from the top of the run last week...only fish I landed all day. On this day, I could have cared less if I caught another fish.

Pangamonium

2012-01-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

Panga: a fishing boat indigenous to Central America and Mexico

It begins so innocently. One moment you're cruising along in your panga taking in the early morning sights and smells. Maybe your eyelids droop a bit... perhaps reacting to last night's Margaritas. Maybe you sit for just a second and let your attention slide. You're relaxed, you're content, hell, you're barely awake. Then a silver side flashes enticingly against the a patch of dark turtlegrass. This innocent observation serves as a mental wedgie that shoves you from your early morning reverie and takes you to fully amped in only a small slice of a second.

And thus it begins... pangamonium... the time-honored ritual, really more of a combination affliction and reaction, but I digress. When pangamonium begins chaos reigns. Pangamonium is apparently a required activity when tarpon fishing. In the throes of pangamonium, an adrenalized angler can find a million ways to blow his shot: wrap the line around the rod tip top, catch it on the cooler below the casting deck, stand on the line, let the wind blow it overboard. It's all part of the symptoms that afflicts most of us when that first tarpon is sighted. While not everyone gets to cast to the sighted fish, everyone gets to participate in pangamonium. Pangamonium is an equal opportunity virus. It spreads like ebola and afflicts everyone in the boat. Soon, not only is the angler finding new and creative ways to screw up, but everyone is aiding him in his pursuit of "buck fever" by yelling helpful, but mutually exclusive suggestions and instructions. Pangamonium sounds like a bunch of chimps in a fig tree or my family at Thanksgiving .
"Cast longer!"... "Cast shorter!"... "Cast again!"

"There he is, to your left, more right, over there, he's behind you, there’s one, etc., etc.”

Sure everyone is excited and just trying to be helpful, but it is a confusing situation! Some anglers get really pissed off and tell everyone to shut up. That's just wrong and it's not in the spirit of panagamonium. After all, this tarpon belongs to everyone and to force people to be quiet is like taking the ball and going home. Besides, when it's not your turn to cast, you'll be wanting to play too! What a well-adjusted angler needs to do is to try an accommodate everyone's suggestions ! At least until the fish had disappeared or you have learned to tune everyone out and make your cast. Not too early or too late, but when the time is right. If you can ignore the pangamonium party and do it right, and if the tarpon eats, Stage Two of pangamonium begins.

Stage Two can be even more chaotic than Stage One and although it begins with the hookset, it continues through the clearing of line and bowing to the first jump. All these activities must seemingly be practiced simultaneously. If you sucessfully pass Stage Two and the fish is still on, then Stage Three of pangamonium isn't far behind. It begins when the tarpon is on the reel.

Stage Three not only involves physical work, but also demands you listen to many more countless suggestions and helpful observations... this time on how to fight and land your fish.

"Put pressure on him."

“If you aren’t hurting him, he’ll hurt you”.

"Lower your rod to the right, pull hard off your hip."

"Don't raise your rod tip!"
"Bring your rod parallel to the boat’s deck."

And the time honored,
" You can't wait for him to tire... you must tire him! "

All true, all helpful and all rarely heard by the angler engaged in the fight!

But whatever you do and no matter how much craziness ensues, Stage Three can be a long process. It only ends with Stage Four which begins when the fish gets somewhat close to the boat. Now a skilled pangamaniac can still lose his fish in a variety of ways so you must remain alert and watch for late slow motion jumps and courageous runs. The suggestions from the guide and your fishing mate at this point are creative, instructive and seemingly endless... as well as useless.

If your luck holds and you have a guide who has the hands and the mind to handle a bucket of a mouth hitched to a muscle mass accrued by millions of years of evolution, you’ll get your picture and then watch as this huge, ancient silver beast with the dark green back slides back into the blue of the ocean. You'll feel exhausted. Your hands will ache and your biceps will tingle. You'll feel a need to chatter and tell everyone that you don't want to do that again... but that's a lie, the last symptom of pangamonium. In truth you love pangamonium and you want to get very sick again soon!

Tarpon fly-fishing in the Los Petenes Biosphere Reserve, from the beautiful town of Campeche Mexico.

2012-01-26T08:35:00.000-08:00

Old friend Drs. Larry Towning and Brian Crock visited the Tarpon Coast in October 2011 with Dental Education, Inc. Larry posted this great video upon their return... thanks guys!

Scott's Bonefishing Advice: Part 5... Your Mindset Is All Important!

2012-01-22T16:14:00.000-08:00

I ended the last edition of "tips" with the comment that your mindset is all important. I was referring to a stealthy mindset then, but now, I'd like to expand upon an angler's mindset a bit before getting to some specific technical tips in the next edition. (I apologize if I get too metaphysical here, but I've watched these suggestions play out with bonefishermen for both good and bad for years. I hope you won't think these suggestions are too weird and that you will at least think about them... I think they will help you become a better fisherman!)

OK, so you've got your game face on by getting in the stealth mode. (That is why I use an old Abel with a silent outgoing drag and why I don't use Sharkskin fly lines. Although I think these noises scare fish, I think any unnecessary noise destroys a stealth mindset. Excessive probably... but I'm sticking with it!). Now to go to the next level, you've got to add to that predator mindset the concept that first, everything works to your advantage and second, it's all up to you.

1.) So you've got no sun or maybe lots of wind, what's new! Let's face it, rarely do you have ideal weather conditions... instead of using it as an excuse for the "poor" fishing or allowing it to frustrate you, use it. Wind, bad weather, low light... these conditions may not be the best for the fish either! Wind and waves especially reduce a bone's ability to see and hear you. Use it! Learn to love the weather, especially the wind... it is your friend.

2.) Expect to catch a fish instead of telling yourself you won't. I've seen it more than once... the guy that expects to catch fish and behaves accordingly creates opportunities if not actually creating bonefish. As they say "you gotta believe!". Maybe it's hope, or optimism or confidence, Whatever you call it... attitude is everything when it comes to fishing. I'll even go further... I think bonefish (hell, all fish for that matter), smell resignation. Achieving a predatory mindset is a hopeful action. One that is often self fulfilling. Hope/confidence/optimism is as important as the right fly or a new rod or a fine tippet.

3.) On a practical level, use the wind and sun to your advantage. If possible, wade a flat with the wind behind you. If there is little or no wind, have the sun behind you. Take the time, after spotting a fish, to navigate upwind of your fish, but always wade quietly until you are in place. When you are in position, false cast away from the fish, especially with a slow moving or tailing fish. This will keep the fly line from spooking the fish. Cast away at a 45 to 90 degree angle to the direction that the fish are heading. If it is windy, make your false cast holding your rod as parallel as possible to the plane of the water. The wind's friction with the water lessens its velocity in the area 3 to 4 feet above the water's level. This casting technique makes it harder for the fish to see the fly line and allows for a very quiet presentation since the fly does not drop from much height.

4.) Don't blame your equipment. Don't get so involved in the minutiae of equipment that you focus on that and abdicate your role in all this. To look to your equipment for answers actually hinders your ability to learn the skills of the sport. Casting, stalking, presentation and a proper retrieve have to do with you, not your rod... not your leader... not your fly. Of course they are important. That is a given... make your choice, then move on and know your success is literally in your hands.

Again to be successful, is more a matter of preparation than luck. But since I've been a bit "mental" with these tips, here is one more and it has to do with karma. Build up some good karma by remembering: When you do catch a bonefish, take a few pics, but treat him well. As someone else pointed out. "He is old and possibly embarrassed." Be kind to him... it will pay off for you.

Bonefish tattoo

2012-01-21T17:55:00.000-08:00

Bill Hegberg has the best bonefish tattoo I've ever seen! Bill is from Basalt, Colorado and is an avid and experienced trout angler, but I think his true loyalties are evident.

Water Cay Lodge: A Few Words with Head Guide Sidney Thomas... Part II

2012-01-15T19:03:00.000-08:00

We continue our discussion with the extraordinary Bahamian guide, Sidney Thomas of Water Cay Lodge. Here, he reveals methods and a style of bonefishing that goes somewhat against traditional Bahamian approaches. We hope you find his revelations on bonefishing, flies and gear helpful and perhaps applicable to other fisheries around the Bahamas.

Sidney continues:

I think lots of guys I meet at the lodge strip the fly too fast. Bonefish aren't ‘cuda and you can strip the fly out of their way. Both Gregory, Ezra and me all want to get our guys to move that fly with the fish, not move it away. So I tell them to rest that fly, watch the fish not the line. When those fins stick straight out and they are looking for what made that splash, bump it just a bit. No shrimp or worm has ever outrun a big bonefish... they hide. Bump and watch. Wait ... the fish will find it and eat it. Wading or on the boat it can be hard for guests to see the fish tip down and eat, but I see it every time. I tell them to make a looooooong clean strip. I don’t say he ate it, hit ‘em like lots of guides do. The looooong strip is calm and easy and most times that fish has eaten the fly and is moving away. When guests make the long strip the line comes tight, the bonefish feels it and the guest... well... that’s why they came to Water Cay. They get their line cleared and that is fishing.

But the BIG bonefish are smart and they will run either to deep water where they can use their speed or they will run to the mangrove bushes. It all depends on where you are fishing. Some guests break off a lot of fish when they run for the bushes. Here is where I help them. I tell them to release the drag and go slack on the fish. Almost every time that fish’ll stop when he feels the pressure on him leave. That way the fish stops and waits thinking he is hiding in shallow water. We walk up on him and clear the line. The fish, he’s happy to be free and my guests caught another big one. Seems like the wrong thing to do but taking that pressure off of them is the way to land a fish that has gone into the bushes.

I been visiting these flats for many years and I have seen these fish in all conditions. I have spent most of my life out on the flats and bays and in the back country. So I am out there to help my guys who come down to catch bones. If you come to Water Cay you’ll get my best opinion and my best work. We fish to catch fish, learn about fish and see the beauty of my island. That is what Water Cay Lodge was built for”.

Guide Greg Rolle Commutes to Work

Sidney Thomas has spent his life on the water fishing for bonefish. He has worked for all of the lodges on Grand Bahama and knows the nooks and crannies of all the north side bonefish spots. His lodge, Water Cay Lodge, can be seen on the Angling Destinations web site or I’d be happy to talk directly to you regarding a visit to meet Sidney’s BIG fish. Bone fishing is a skill sport and as such Sidney’s years of experience are invaluable to the avid fly fisherman looking to learn the sport or to polish and improve existing skills.

For more info about Water Cay Lodge and the exemplary guide Sidney Thomas go:

to www.anglingdestinations.com

800-211-8530

A Photo and a Funny Note from the Ydens after their North Andros Trip

2012-01-14T09:33:00.000-08:00

Larry and Carol Ydens just returned from a great bonefishing trip to North Andros and the Joulter Cays. When I commented on the beautiful photo of Larry's wife Carol, Larry made the following comment. I thought it was really funny and since I'm a short guy, I have now come to realize that tall guys have their share of problems too!

Larry said, "You'll notice that there are no pictures of me, and that is intentional. I will not have my picture taken holding a fish. It dates back many years, when I went to Patagonia to fish. My guide, Arturo, and I were fishing Lago Founk, and I caught a very large Brook trout. Arturo asked if he could get a photo for his website, so we took photos of he and I holding the fish. When I returned to the states, and showed the pictures to my wife and daughter, they asked "How come Arturo's fish is so much larger than yours?"... Arturo is 5'5" and 130#, and I am 6'6" and 260#... so no more pictures holding fish..."

Water Cay Lodge: A Few Words from Head Guide Sidney Thomas

2012-01-12T19:23:00.000-08:00

Sidney Thomas, Guide Extaordinaire

Prior to 2008, Grand Bahama Island's Northern Horn was a tough spot to reach. Several well known operators on Grand Bahama, namely the Pinder Brothers and Greg Vincent from Pelican Bay Resort fished this area, but it required long boat rides for visiting anglers (45 minutes at a minimum) which chewed up valuable fishing time. In the fall of 2008, this problem was solved by long time Grand Bahama resident and superb bonefish guide, Sidney Thomas. Sidney and his family took the task of renovating the small bonefish lodge on remote Water Cay that was destroyed in the fall of 2003 by a series of devastating hurricanes. Along with a few experienced anglers, Sidney and his brothers knew the bonefish treasure that swam in and around the flats of Water Cay.

After many months of hard work, Water Cay Lodge opened its doors to traveling anglers seeking the island's most remote bonefishing. Sidney’s dream became reality as Water Cay Lodge quickly became a hotspot on the global bonefish map. The word from visiting fishermen was “BIG bonefish, naive and unpressured... some permit during the warm months and the occasional tarpon in predictable spots”. With several daily flights from the U.S. to Freeport, Grand Bahama, Sidney quickly filled his small guest lodge (6 anglers max.). Today, Water Cay Lodge has become an outstanding location for not only experienced anglers, but also beginners looking for a positive first time adventure.

Interestingly, as we have gotten to know Sidney, his methods and style of bonefishing go somewhat against traditional Bahamian angling approaches. Late in 2011, I spoke with Sidney about some of these strategies and his opinion on bonefishing, flies and gear in the discussion which follows. I hope you find some of it helpful and perhaps applicable to other fisheries around the Bahamas.

Sidney speaks...

“Bonefish got to eat. And to eat, bonefish got to get up onto their flats and find food. It’s nice to see those big tails waving in the sunlight on the incoming water. We see them and we fish ‘em directly. What I mean is that I like to have my guys go straight for the fish. No leading or putting that fly where you think them fish are gonna be. Just try to hit them on the head. The fish at Water Cay haven't seen many flies and so when they are hungry, they ain’t shy. You might think that your cast spooked them because they take flight twenty or thirty feet. But more times than not, the fish spin in a circle looking for what made the fuss. If they think it’s a ‘cuda or shark or maybe a bird, they’ll keep moving. But if the coast is clear, those big fish will come right back to the spot. If you are there, then they are gonna eat every time. We hook a bunch of BIG bonefish this way.

Sidney at work.

I tell my guys to use lead eyes on size 2 or even 1 tin hooks. Why tin? Cause if you bust off a big bonefish that tin hook will be out of them in two weeks. Better off for everyone. Why the lead eyes? Cause they make a bigger splash. The big singles and doubles pushing up on the flat are happy guys... the water’s getting higher and they hear the dinner bell ringing. When those fish are like that, the kinda fly you use doesn’t matter a whole bunch. Just stick to tans, olives, maybe a bit of orange or pink and no flash. All those little worms and shrimp don’t have flash. Flash will kill them and nature doesn’t do it much. Stick to big lead eyes, pale color flies that match the bottom, gun your cast straight at ‘em and hold on.

For leaders and stiffness I tell my guys to use seven to ten foot leaders, regular old ones are fine. Our fish don’t care much. They don’t care if that leader costs $10 or $3. Ten to fifteen pound is fine. For fly lines, the old ones are better than the new ones. Guys with the new bumpy lines (Sharkskin lines, Ed.) in bright color, might cast farther, but out on the flats, them fish hear that sound. They feel that sound and it’s nothing that they ever see or hear. So when they hear it, they know somethings wrong. I've seen so many bonefish run and keep running cause of that zipping sound. Bonefish feel pressure in the water and they feel that sound and they run for cover. Bonefishing is a quiet game. Things have to be natural and those new lines are the worst at wrecking happy fish. I give my guys my boat fly rod to use and try to get them to take that line off while they are at Water Cay.

Most guests who catch a six pound bonefish and feel the fight, think it’s a ten pounder! But when that same guest hooks a real ten pounder or a fish like the twelve pounder we caught this past fall, they know that six pound bonefish wasn’t a ten pound fish. Then all they want to do for the rest of their day is look on the edges and bushes for another BIG fish. Most folks have not hooked really big fish on trips to the other islands. Three, five, seven pound fish maybe. But around the horn, near Water Cay, there are really BIG fish. Guys come to Water Cay, but they come back to Water Cay because they got a big fish on their last trip and now, they want another.

Sidney's brother Ezra, also a superb guide, commutes to work.

To be continued...

Forty Feet

2012-01-10T19:48:00.000-08:00

Apparently little has changed in my world. I discovered this entry the other day in an old journal that I pulled from under a pile of maps. Thought you might be interested:

Under a searingly hot sun, I hiked to the end of a long, sand spit that had been exposed by the falling tide. The moon’s power had sucked the water away revealing a huge white sand bar framed on either side by deep turquoise that quickly faded into cobalt blue channels. Sweating as I finally reached the end of the spit, a flash of silver, then another, caught my eye. I waited patiently on the far side of the spit, kneeling on the soft, wet sand. Finally, as my knees were beginning to feel the strain, a tail once again popped up only a foot from shore. The bonefish stood on end, clumsily straining to reach a tasty morsel at the bottom of a pothole. I threw my line in the air and cast across the spit. Forty feet of line and eleven feet of leader settled on the sand. A little over a foot of leader and the fly made it to the water.

I bumped the fly with one slow strip. No response. Apparently, his line was busy. I decided to wait and call again in few minutes. When his tail briefly flashed at the same spot I had seen him before, I stripped my line once again and his tail magically reappeared. I knew I’d made a long distance connection, but because my line was laying on the sand, I felt no telltale tick. Assuming he had eaten my fly, I strip-striked. The bone shot off the flat before I could stand on my cramped legs. The fish was well into my backing before my legs regained their feeling. After a few more spectacular runs, I managed to land the fish just as a three foot lemon shark zeroed in on his scent. I released my bone on the far side of the spit, far away from the prying nose of the shark. I looked around now suddenly aware that white sand spits and cuts stretched endlessly off into the distance. I walked on, prepared to search them all if I had to.” SSH April 1993

Scott's Bonefishing Advice: Part 4... Big Bones

2012-01-05T19:00:00.000-08:00

With few exceptions, all gamefish are both predator and prey. While one eye is constantly peeled for their next meal, the other is always scanning for lurking danger. Their appetite pushes them greedily forward while their wariness urges retreat. This constant push/pull creates a rather nervous personality whether it be a 24” brown trout sipping mayflies off a swirling eddyline, or a 28” bonefish rooting deep in the marl for a mantis shrimp. Even salmon, hellbent to move upstream struggling to fill a primordial appetite of a different sort, are subject to the same wariness of character. The brown trout fears the eagle and osprey, the bonefish fears the shark and barracuda, the salmon fears the grizzly bear and they all fear you.

The selectivity and wariness of wild fish is an innate characteristic, yet it is increased by fishing pressure. Experienced anglers know that the single most effective technique that they can employ to increase their success is stealth. In any type of fishing, and most especially with sight fishing, you must avoid alerting your prey to your presence. This single rule is more important than fly color, or size, or pattern, or tippet diameter. We all spend huge amounts of time and effort conceiving ways to fool fish with tackle, especially terminal tackle, refinements. But, it is often at the complete other end of the system where the problem occurs. The noisy, quick or jerky motion, the gaudy dress, the poorly presented fly, - whether it be in the salt, or in freshwater lakes and streams - often sabotages an angler’s chance of success.

Think about this, a fish’s vision is extremely acute. If a bonefish can see a small shrimp scooting away in muddy water, he can most certainly see and hear you - unless you can avoid alerting him. Bonefish can focus simultaneously on a whole range of objects on any given plane. This means bonefish can see in almost every direction at once. To catch a bonefish therefore, your wariness must match his wariness.

Here are a few suggestions to increase your “stealth factor”:
1. Wade quietly, move slowly, watch constantly - look before you change your position. Good anglers are like herons, they watch and wait then move - often the fish come to them.
2. Wear clothes that camouflage your presence. Select colors that blend into the background shades of your fishing environment. Try to disappear into the fish’s surroundings. Stand in shadows, on patches of turtlegrass, behind trees, rocks, or mangroves.
3. Practice your casting before your go on your trip. Learn to cast with a minimum of false casts and never false cast over a fish. Never load your rod by “popping” your fly off the surface either in front of you or on your backcast. Not only learn to cast longer, but learn to drop your fly more quietly.

4. Don't wade into the water from the shore without looking into the shallows first. In other words, look closely before you enter the water.

5. Don't talk if you want to catch fish, if you want to socialize that's great, but if you want talk to your buddy, don't expect to catch as many fish. Talking obviously makes noise and diverts your attention from the task at hand. Don't kid yourself that fish can't hear you talking or splashing.

6. Don't wade noisily or too quickly to get to an area that looks promising. This is just "calling ahead" and drastically reduces your odds of success once you get there. Likewise, don't wade quickly thru a shallow bar to "get to the other side". You are merely "reaching out and touching somebody!"

7. Don't false cast or practice casting while you are wading, Don't roll cast (thus splashing water) to initiate your cast. Use as long a leader as you can cast and get upwind if you can (more on this in the next post).

Remember above all else:

Fish may not immediately leave an area when they become aware of your presence, but they will behave differently. If they know something is up, they are far less likely to eat. In order to get a shot at big bones before they "make you", you must learn to think like a predator... that is what you are afterall. Your mindset is all important. Stealth is as much an attitude as a particular technique. When you assume the attitude of a hunter and all that entails, you are on your way to becoming invisible to the fish - and that will increase your fishing productivity more than any other single learned technique or purchased technology.

Scott's Bonefishing Advice: Part 3... Big Bones

2011-12-29T11:33:00.000-08:00

1. Use the right fly. In most cases that means using the heaviest fly that conditions will allow. Weight is my single biggest consideration when choosing a fly. Most bonefish, but especially big bonefish, will refuse a fly that isn't on the bottom. The fly must also stay on the bottom. Wind and tidal current can pull on too light a fly and move it up and inches off the bottom. Bonefish do not like this, because prey do not behave like this... bonefish prey hug the bottom! If a bonefish follows your fly and does not tip down or comes up in the water column to look, your fly is too light. Be more concerned with the weight of your fly than with the pattern you use. I'm convinced many, if not most, patterns will work for bonefish, but all too often the fly is too light. If I tie a dozen flies in a pattern, I vary the weight by using a variety of eyes from lead barbell to different sized bead chain or I'll even use a lead wrap or strip on the hook shank. I may not change a fly pattern during the day, but I change the weight of the fly often based on current conditions and water depth.

2. Throw as close to the fish as conditions will allow. Bonefish never move in a straight line when they feed. They may zig, then zag. They may meander hither and yon and to and fro before ever getting to your fly. Based on water depth, current, and wind, you need to get your fly as close to a bonefish on the prowl as possible. Hit 'em on the head if you can. If you do, DON'T MOVE THE FLY!! Don't strip! Bonefish will watch a fly settle to the bottom before eating. Bonefish will often eat your fly without you ever having to move it. If they turn away from your fly, then and only then, bump it... slowly.

3. Let me repeat myself... Keep stripping to a minimum, and watch the fish's reaction. When fishing for large bonefish, most people strip way too much and too fast. If guides are telling you to "strip, strip", ignore them. They know not what they do! As with permit, big bonefish often eat with the fly sitting still on the bottom. The first strip, if needed, (that would be if the fish you just hit on the head, that watched as your fly settled to the bottom turns away), should be a 3-inch bump. This raises the fly off the bottom, and then it quickly plunges back like an escaping crab. When you do this, you need to be watching the fish's reaction. Many times, one bump is all it takes. Let the fly plunge. Let the bonefish eat it! Watch the fish. If it does not eat, then make a long slow strip, then let the fly settle. Watch the fish! DO NOT IMMEDIATELY STRIP AGAIN! Many bonezillas have been caught after a series of long slow strips followed by excruciating periods of just letting the fly sit still.

Always remember, a bonefish fly is not a streamer and it does not have to be moving for a bonfish to eat it!
This takes patience... speaking of patience:

4. Be patient, make reasonable casts. The tendency when sight fishing is to cast too early and too long. Accuracy decreases dramatically with longer casts. Let the fish get closer (see Hints #2) and make your first cast count.

5. Keep your rod tip down while stripping, and make a slow strip strike. Put the rod tip in or near the water. This minimizes the slapping noise the line makes. This little bit of noise can spook a bone. When the fish eats, make a long, slow strip strike to the side. Many times the fish may miss the fly, but if you do a slow side strike, you can let the fly drop if the fly misses its mark and get a second chance.

Bonefishing is a skill sport!
The more knowledgeable and better prepared fisherman almost always catches not only the most fish, but the biggest fish.

Next time: Casting and Stealth

Merry Christmas to all!

2011-12-16T17:35:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas and thanks to John Marlow for this great photo. If you are a dog lover, you can imagine how hard it was to get!

... and remember the days will soon start greeting longer and trout season will arrive before you know it!

The Lamar River, Yellowstone Park

2011-12-15T11:06:00.000-08:00

From Cody west to the East Entrance of Yellowstone National Park and from there north to the Northeast Entrance at Cooke City, flow some of the most prolific, least fished and most beautiful trout waters in the Lower 48. The forks of the Shoshone River, the Clark’s Fork of the Yellowstone, and all the creeks draining into the Clark’s Fork from Sunlight Basin including Crandall Creek, Hoodoo Creek, Sunlight Creek, Dead Indian Creek and many many more offer simply phenomenal fishing. Float trips, wade trips, high mountain lakes... whatever you want, you’ll find here. You’ll need a good guide for this is no country to get lost in and the best spots are not easily found. You’ll also need a good pair of walking shoes and a willingness to use them, but the rewards are worth the effort. Probably nowhere else can you catch so many 16-21 inch trout so easily. And when (and if) you tire of all this outstanding water, you can turn to Yellowstone Park. Yellowstone is the ying to the previous area’s yang for THE park is not rarely visited by anglers. The Yellowstone is loved and Hayden Valley‘s legendary waters including Slough Creek, the Lamar River and Soda Butte Creek see tons of pressure, but hit it right and you’ll know what all the hubbub is all about:

As I dug my nails into cutbank, it began to rain lightly. Six feet from the top of the bank, almost at river level, a tine was now completely exposed. The horn seemed more rock than bone. I wondered how old an elk antler would be that was buried under seven feet of Hayden Valley mud. The skull was partially attached to the horn so this was not a shed horn. Was it killed by an indian or a bear or maybe a pack of pre-reintroduced wolves. After a few minutes, I had excavated enough of the antler to get a good grip on it. With a grunt, I pulled the horn from the bank. It was heavy with five tines, and very thick. This elk had been a healthy animal and probably had died before its time.

I had turned my attention to artifact in the cutbank because I was relaxed after a successful start to the day. I had just caught two sipping 18” cutts off the bank with a #18 baetis. Not much of a fly really. A bit of olive dubbing for a body and a palmered dun hackle tip for a thorax. The fly, although small, had been fairly easy to see since it was silhouetted against the steely blue light in the wind slicks. This pale light had reflected the rain squalls that were passing through the valley. The hatch that I had imitated to catch the cutts was now over, its end signaled by a shaft of sunlight that lit up a copse of cottonwoods trees upriver. It was beautiful. Sunlight always makes fall in Yellowstone seem almost painfully beautiful.

We had just experienced seven perfect days of weather, especially for late September / early October. During this spell, we had fished in consistent 75-80 degrees temps. This warm air swirled under a deep blue sky rarely fettered by anything close to a cloud. Weather great for hoppers and people, but not great for hatching bugs. Each day this good weather continued, I could feel the hatches building. A few bugs would emerge on these clear warm days, but nothing to get us or the fish excited. I knew that with the first significant cloud cover, every overdue bug on every river would be sprinting for the surface. Now with these rain squalls passing through, our morning’s sporadic hatch had seemed only a prelude to the big main event.

While taking in the heft of the horn, I heard a pop behind me... it was the sound a teenager makes with his mouth when removing a lollipop on a stick. I dropped the elk antler in the mud at the edge of the river and jerked my head to the right. Without looking down, I washed the mud off my hands as I searched for the source of the sound. Not ten feet below me I heard another pop, then saw the incriminating circles. This was not the sip of a trout on a measly little olive dun. This was a big revealing rise... especially for a wary Yellowstone Cutt. I hunkered down on the bank’s mud knowing the trout had never seen me as it moved to take this feeding spot, I wanted to keep my advantage and worked to keep my profile low. Soon, an armada of big drakes was tacking to leeward. Trout were gulping up these elegant duns as more and more little sails popped up. Suddenly no longer so mellow, I raced to change my fly. The trout that I had “popped” so close to me could now clearly be seen moving four or five feet to take a drake. I tied on a size 12 parachute drake and carelessly nipped off my tippet’s tag end. I flipped the fly ten feet across the river and tried not to move a muscle in the process. The fish quickly found my waking fly leaving a big bubble, a boil and a bent rod behind. Sometimes it is so easy....

This was the beginning of three hours of heaven. As squall after squall swirled through the valley, the hatch went on and on. Sometimes the wind came from the south sometimes from the north, but through it all came the drakes. I on either shore created by the storms changing paths. Depending on the direction of the wind, I would look left or right to see big trout racing about in the narrow band of unriffled water next to shore not touched by the breezes. The trout would pick off drakes and I would see them hunting like one sees bonefish on a Bahamian flats. I could cast 15 feet ahead of these trout and they would accelerate to my fly. Sure there were refusals, these were after all, Yellowstone cutts, but there were plenty of takes too. I don’t know what was more fun... to see a 20” cutt race to a fly, put on the brakes and suspend under my fly to examine its authenticity or to have a fish eat in a lunging swirl.

OK, eating my fly was more fun, but the event was so engaging, I lost track of time. I could see the whole drama play out in these slicks. I watched cutts refuse naturals, compete with other fish to catch a skittering drake and change sides of the river when the wind changed direction. Sometimes fish chased drakes into absurdly shallow water. With the wind changing direction and pushing the big mayflies suddenly towards shore, brightly colored trout would turn on their sides to try and catch the big bugs before they were out if reach beached by the wind. There were no feeding stations now. The fish were on the prowl looking for dinner. Finally, it was all over and I was in a satisfied haze. Sated, I clipped a disheveled drake off my leader and yanked my Sage 4 wt. apart. It was 4:00 PM. The day had disappeared like a clipped breath on a cold winter day.

There was now a chill to the air and although it was hardly cold, you could finally feel fall. I knew that long before winter storms piled up snow outside my home’s windows and even before the algae on my fish net has dried to a brittle junk, I will remember this day and long for yet another. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait awhile.

Scott's Bonefishing Advice: # 2 in the Series

2011-12-12T09:15:00.000-08:00

Bonefish are creatures of the shallows. They live as if they belong to the tides. They charge and retreat over shimmering sheets of bright sand and lush blankets of turtle grass. They are sleek and slender, shy and suspicious. They reflect perfectly the pastel waters and the sparkling bottoms which is their home. With their silver sides reflecting all, they have the ability to seemingly change color.

Fishing for these elusive creatures combines the best of hunting and fishing. You must have the visual concentration and patience to find the fish and a hunter's stalking ability to get within casting range. Your cast must then deliver the fly quietly and precisely. You must entice the fish, with a proper retrieve, to accept and eat your fly. You must develop a feel for the hookset. You must fight the fish properly to bring it to hand. In bonefishing, rarely is blind luck rewarded. Usually, the fisherman with the most skills catches the most fish.

Instead of offering hints in the order in which they must be successfully executed (i.e stalking, casting, presentation, hookset etc), I think I'll offer suggestions to help with what I feel are the most often made mistake even by experienced bonefishermen.

And by far, the most common mistake made by anglers is to cast too early and/or too far. I believe anglers cast too early partially because they believe that if they initially aren’t succesful with a long cast, they will get another chance with a shorter cast. In reality, this rarely happens. If you try to make a cast longer than your skills or the conditions (primarily wind) allow and your fly does not get to the right spot, it will take too long to cast again. By the time you are ready to cast again, the bonefish will have moved on or will have become aware of your presence.

It is essential then to remember that:
YOUR FIRST CAST Is ALWAYS YOUR BEST CHANCE!
While this is true in any type of fishing whether it be trout, tarpon, permit... it is essential to get a handle on this concept for bonefish. It is so important that I'll even take it a step further.
IMAGINE YOU ONLY GET ONE CAST!
no second shots, no other chances. If you only had one cast, when then would you cast?

Chance are it would be a much shorter cast than most anglers make. If you only had one cast you might wait for that perfect moment. You might wait for that moment when you know you can make the cast, when you know the fish will see your fly and when you know you'll be able to see where the fly lands and/or know where it is.

I've also noticed one other phenomena associated with the cast and that is the creeping step. Often angles will take a step or two forward as (or immediately after) the fly hits the water. I think anglers do this because they want to be closer to the action. Perhaps to see better see what is happening. Many anglers are totally unaware that they take this step.

But this habit does two things: First, it often creates unnecessary noise from coral crunching, sand grinding or water splashing and secondly, it reduces an anglers contact with the fly and makes it more difficult to make a proper retrieve... more on the retreive next time.

So in summary, your first shot is your best shot. Make it count! When casting, imagine you only have one cast you can make to any given fish. And never move, especially forward, after the fly is delivered.

This Is Fly / Sea Hunter 2011

2011-12-06T12:59:00.000-08:00

As the tide dropped, I made my way to the edge of the flat toward a channel of deep water. I knew that big fish will eventually congregate in the deeper water and I could intercept plenty of bonefish fleeing the flat when the water quickly receded. I cautiously waded towards the edge, my anticipation rising with each step, my high hopes set on hooking a memorable big fish. With the edge now in casting distance, I stop and position myself, to see if I can spot any fish. It did not take long to pick up a pair of bonefish moving along the edge of the flat, approaching from my right. I calmly cast my Doug’s Crimp fly in front of them. Without much inspection nor any hesitation, one of the fish pounces on the fly and I am hooked up. After a solid run and fight, I land and release an average 4-lb bonefish. We are not in Mexico, kids, and I know this area is home to much bigger fish. Our group of renegade anglers has experienced great fishing, catching fish up to 9-lbs. I just needed my skills to shine and the stars to align so I could successfully land the trophy-size bonefish I sought.

My bonefish guru, Scott Heywood of Angling Destinations, advised me to hang out once I saw fish because more would follow. I took Scott’s advice since he had countless years of experience bonefishing throughout the world and was keen on their behavior. Scott was right—headed straight towards me from the deep water was a massive shape that I first identified as a shark, but after a double-take I began to cast my Sage One 8wt to the big single swimming bonefish. The Sage One did what it’s meant to do and the fly quietly fell into the monster’s path while I tried to keep my cool as that critical moment unfolds — the fish was either going to eat or ignore my offering. I stripped the fly once and the fish slightly changed his course: I knew he was intrigued. I stripped again and the fly line came tight. I was hooked up to the monster!

Most of you avid This is Fly readers know I am an obsessed bonefish bum who will do just about anything to chase after these fish. And by now you are surelywondering: “Where is Paris this time?” and “How the hell can I book the trip?”

This trip, dear readers, was a part of my fortunate invitation to board the Sea Hunter, a fabulous yacht from Florida, currently anchored near the eminent Jackfish Channel on the southern tip of Andros Island. Scott introduced me to the live-aboard experience and I really dig it, especially when the experience is set up as a series of exploratory adventures.

The reasons I enjoyed the live-aboard are simple: long days of hardcore fishing and access to unpressured water. I am not saying that no one has fished South Andros, but when you are fishing from a traditional lodge, you are limited by the time of the day. To escape the often-pressured water in close proximity to the lodge, you have to make long runs in the skiff. Let’s face it: you can only go so far before turning around and enduring the long ride back to the lodge. But in a live-aboard, you experience longer fishing days because your ride home is a mere ten-minute trip back to the yacht on your skiff. The most exciting part of these trips is the rush of anticipation when scouting virgin water that does not get regularly plundered by anglers. For example, aboard the Sea Hunter we hop in the skiffs and push our way beyond Grassy Cays up the uninhabited west side of the island. This area is difficult to reach from the northern lodges and if you can make the run, the guides do not have much time to dial-in the tides and fish the most productive flats. Aboard the Sea Hunter, we have seven days of freedom to push the limits of a conventional day of flats’ fishing.

This trip is pitched to anglers as self-guided and hardcore: so be prepared to endure lots of wading and expect to spot your own fish. Some might be apprehensive about this itinerary, but for me, these ingredients are ideal. The chance to wade South Andros for an entire week is a dream come true. I am fanatical when it comes to bonefishing and I easily get excited, but this opportunity set me off the charts. South Andros does have a reputation for providing refuge to acre-size schools of smaller bonefish (which I usually shy away from) but this area also holds big bones, which I saw firsthand when I fished South Andros a couple years back and got a taste of Grassy Cay during a day of guided fishing. I wrote a story on the trip in a previous issue of This is Fly entitled “Bonefish Heaven.” Now I am fortunate enough to return to heaven.

At 84-feet, the Sea Hunter is a steel-hulled ship that feels formed from one monolithic slab. The Sea Hunter has two complete reverse-osmosis water-making systems that can create 80 gallons of quality bottled drinking water every hour and gives the grimiest of anglers that rare chance to enjoy a long, hot shower at the end the day. Cooled by dual AC units and propelled by two 450-horsepower CAT diesel engines, she carries an average load of 16,000 gallons of diesel fuel, which allows her to sit steady in the water and have a global range potential. This massive load, combined with her considerable displacement, buffers almost any sea motion while the Sea Hunter is at anchor.

Our group of renegade pirates includes Scott Heywood of Angling Destinations, Scott Sawtelle from San Antonio, John and Anna Riggs from Little Rock, and Jay Hillerson from Virigina. The key to a memorable week on a live-aboard is to have a cohesive group with personalities that mesh well. Our brew of personalities created a perfect concoction and everyone felt at ease, dedicated to the task, and focused on long days of wading and exploring the bounty of South Andros. There were days when we opted to fish uncharted areas that could potentially produce poor fishing, but this group eagerly took that chance. I tip my hat to each of them.

If you want a break from bonefishing during the week, the Sea Hunter offers diversity. You can participate in spear fishing for hog snappers around coral heads, snorkeling, or awesome blue water fishing. Besides towing two shallow draft skiffs, the Sea Hunter also tows a 34-foot sport fisher, equipped for offshore fishing. Anchored close to the famed Tongue of the Ocean, a day of blue water fishing means access to a plethora of pelagic species.

But back to the monster bonefish I hooked at the edge of the flat that just peeled 150-yards of Dacron from the Abel QC reel. The fish heads towards the mangroves on the other side of the channel, immediately giving me enough anxiety to warrant a dose of Xanax. Everything happens excessively fast and I find myself motionlessly watching the crash course this bonefish has decided to take. I ask myself if this is going to end like Thelma & Louise with the Cadillac heading off a cliff, but the fish stops short of the mangroves and starts to thrash his body, creating an impressive commotion. I know what the fish is doing and I’m not happy about it. I watch him thrash around and rub his mouth in the sand with hopes of dislodging the fly. Just as I start to head into the deeper water in hopes of chasing the fish, the line goes limp and my shoulders fall in disgust, realizing I just lost the largest hooked bonefish of my career. I had a temporary breakdown reaction consisting of screamed obscenities, kicking the water, and punching the air, but I got hold of myself and snapped out of it when I remembered where I was. Bonefish Heaven!

Scott's Bonefishing Advice: # 1 in the Series

2011-12-06T10:43:00.000-08:00

#1... Use you legs both as a depth gauge and as a thermometer.

There is a certain depth at which bonefish are most often found. It may vary a bit, but at this particular depth, once found, they will continue to be found at this depth. Learn to feel and seek this level. Get a gut level feel for it. If you are not seeing fish because you might be too deep, wade to more shallow water and vice versa.

Once you find fish, more fish will be found at that level especially on that stage of the tide. Usually it is around knee deep to mid-calf (see photos). It will be towards the more shallow end on a rising tide when they will push their luck (sometimes very aggressively especially on spring tides) and at the deeper end on a falling tide. But be aware of the type of terrain you are on!

Undulating flats can allow bones to follow the deeper arteries into very shallow water. Bones will often tail in extremely shallow water if deep water is immediately adjacent. Sand bars, undulating flats, shallow crests of deeper flats are all areas that fish rely on to be in the shallowest water possible.

Notice the depth is mid-calf. This is where this 9-10 lb. bone was found!

Remember bonefish want to be in shallow water. They want it, they seek it... the need it! At high tide, they are literally in deep trouble. This is why they go to the mangroves or school-up at high tide. They won't spread out again until the tide has fallen to "their" level. Then they rarely follow deep channels or creeks. They filter in on edges. And when the tide rises again they seek the shallowest rivulets or just flooded flats where they can stay shallow.

Why do bonefish seek the shallows so single-mindedly? It is because they are designed to live in skinny water and have the advantage here. This is in part due to the slime that covers their bodies. In the shallows they can accelerate and reach top speed quickly without turbulence or ground effect. If you've ever paddled a canoe and hit shallow water you know what ground effect is. It makes it impossible to paddle any faster. It is the same principle that makes a plane hover over the runway before landing. Pilots call it the ground effect. The slime reduces this turbulence and allows bonefish to go fast in very shallow water. Hence this if their niche and where we find them. It is not an accident. Sharks and 'cudas struggle in very shallow water, but quickly gain an immediate advantage in just a little bit deeper water. So use you legs to gauge the depth and concentrate your efforts at this level.

Also, use your legs as a thermometer. Get an idea of the temperature of the water you are finding bones in. If it is too hot, oxygen levels are too low and even if the water is appropriately shallow, bones will abandon an area. If the water is too cold, especially if the area is near deeper colder water, bones may move to more inland creeks and flats to maintain their metabolic abilities.

Notice the angler is looking back towards more shallow water and along the edge.

And speaking of your depthometers and thermometers, don't splash them. Learn how to move your legs forward at a steady, measured, quiet velocity. Your legs should be a speedometer too!

Peacock Bass in the Amazon: Part 2

2011-12-06T09:15:00.001-08:00

Peacock Bass in the Amazon: Part 2

This is part 2 of the excellent article from Kent Klewein at the Gink and Gasoline blog from November 3, 2011.

See their website at ginkandgasoline.com

Preparing and packing the right gear prior to your departure to the Amazon is crucial for your overall trip enjoyment and fishing success. Following these gear recommendations, fishing tips, and general amazon facts, will ensure that you’ll be ready to tackle the monster peacock bass you’ll encounter as well as the hot tropical climate.

One important factor that rookie amazon anglers often fail to realize is water levels on the rivers and tributaries of the Amazon River can make or break your trip. Sometimes conditions will be perfect a week or two before your departure, and a couple days before your scheduled to leave, you’ll receive an updated water level report informing you that conditions have deteriorated. It’s just part of the game. It comes with fishing a river that provides us with 1/5 the worlds freshwater supply.

If water levels are too high, peacock bass often will move back into the flooded jungle shorelines making them difficult to coax out or present a fly to. On the flip side of the coin, if water levels are too low, your guides might not be able to access certain watersheds, or even worse, those glory hole lagoons that often hold schools of trophy size peacock bass. It is after all, the rainforest, right? Don’t let this deter you from booking your trip though, I just mention this since there’s many anglers out there that think just because they travel to another continent they’ll have perfect fishing conditions. Unfortunately, that’s just not how it works in the real world. I learned a long time ago, keeping realistic expectations for my international fishing trips is the best approach. That way if I meet or even exceed my expecations, it’s icing on the cake.What attracts the majority of anglers to the Amazon is its four species of hard fighting and beautiful peacock bass. The speckled peacock “paca” and peacock tunacare “barred” are the bread winners due to there ability to grow well over twenty pounds, while the other two species of peacocks, the butterfly and royal, grow up to 10 pounds but make up for their smaller size with higher overall numbers. But with over 3,000 fish species documented and countless others undiscovered in the Amazon Basin, you never know what you’re going to find at the end of your line. I suggest you bring a Boga Grip to safely handle and weigh your catches during your trip, because you’ll find most fish either have razor sharp teeth or pointy spines. Species that don’t pack these defenses will make up for it in size, agility, speed, and brute strength.

Talk to any veteran peacock bass angler and they’ll quickly tell you how big a role water levels play in the fishing and how helpless you are at controlling them. Despite there being both wet and dry fishing seasons in the Amazon, sometimes the seasons end up being the opposite of what they should be for the time of the year. Your best bet for coping with this uncertainty is booking your trip with the right Amazon outfitter or lodge. The, fly fishing only, Agua Boa Lodge, located in Brazil, is best suited for coping with both high and low water levels because of its specialized equipment, exclusive location, and the diversified fishing operations.

Your sure to get plenty of sight-fishing in during your trip, particularly if you book at the Agua Boa Lodge. However, don’t be shocked if you end up blind casting large portions of the day in search of big peacocks. Most of the time the larger fish will be holding in deeper water out of sight, and it can be very exhausting making long casts followed by quick retrieves for hours on end. Make sure you pack three 9′ fast action fly rods in the 8-10 weight range. I recommend further choosing saltwater fly rods over freshwater rods because they generally have stronger butt sections, better suited for controlling and turning trophy peacock bass away from snags. I personally prefer a nine or ten weight for most my peacock bass fishing because I don’t like to be under gunned, but it’s nice to have an eight weight for the smaller butterfly peacocks and the other species you’ll encounter like aruana “arawana”, trieda and pacu.

I’m embarrassed to admit before I made my first trip to the Amazon for peacock bass, I thought all I needed was a tropical floating line and some big poppers. It’s true you can catch big peacocks this way but you’ll often find your best chances for consistently hooking up with the trophies, is to fish big streamers 4-6″ long with sinking fly lines. Floating lines and poppers are great for busting fish, smaller peacocks, and other exotic species, but most fly anglers will admit even saltwater poppers just don’t cause enough commotion on the surface to regularly bring up the big boys. It’s really hard for any popper or slider to compete with a 3 1/2 – 5 ounce Woodchopper or Riproller lure, thats churning and spraying water five feet in the air. Conventional lures like these have been known to call in peacock bass from over a hundred yards away at times. On top of that, casting large poppers is just too strenuous to keep up eight hours a day. Don’t get me wrong it will work and it’s fun seeing the peacock bass explode on your popper, but even the best fly casters will scream uncle after and hour or two.

Until you hook into a big peacock bass your not going to be ready for their incredible power and strength. Your biggest obstacle is keeping them out of snags where they’ll quickly break you off. This calls for packing saltwater fly reels that have drag systems powerful enough to stop a freight train. I know it sounds cheesy, but that’s the first image that popped into my head when I hooked into my first 15+ pound peacock bass. I prefer high-end fly reels like Nautilus, Hatch, and Tibor that are powerful, durable and precision made. The last thing you want is burning up a reel in the middle of your trip or even worse watching helplessly as a fish of a lifetime peels off line towards the jungle timber. That being said, I will say the best fly reel won’t do you any good at stopping a fish until you clear the line and get the fish on the reel. Expect many fish to be lost within the first few seconds of the fight, which will greatly be dependent on how close your boat is from the bank, and at what point the fish eats during your retrieve.

If you do happen to find yourself on a trip in the Amazon with extreme low water, you may find the floating line with weighted streamers effective. Especially when sight-fishing to spooky fish. It’s a whole lot easier to present your fly softly with a floating line than a heavy sinking line. That’s the main reason you don’t want to make a trip down there without one because you always have to be ready to rig up according to the conditions. Odds are though, you’ll end up stowing your fly rod with the floating ling most of the time during the trip. You may even want to pack a clear intermediate fly line as well.

If you want to come back from the Amazon with bragging rights and pictures of you holding double-digit fish you better pack your 200-350 grain sinking fly lines. I stated before that most of the time the biggest peacocks will be found in the deeper water. You also find really quickly peacock bass prefer a very quick retrieve. Because of this, a sinking fly line is required to keep your flies down in the strike zone. I get asked all the time what are good fly patterns to tie for big peacock bass? Google fly patterns for pike and musky, that’s all you need to know. Just make sure you beef up your hooks to saltwater tarpon hooks or something comparable. Peacock bass can straighten even the strongest hooks. I spent many hours in a peacock bass tackle shop changing out factory treble hooks on Woodchoppers to 4x and 6x strong VMC hooks. That’s some serious hardware believe me.

Lagoons in the amazon are hotspots for big peacock bass. Once your guide brings you to these productive areas search out the deep water areas first. Position the boat in shallows and cast to the deep water. This is where you’ll regularly find the biggest fish in the area. Try to find key areas where peacock bass can drive forage food to the shallows that’s also in close proximity to deep water. Examples are the edges of jungle timber adjacent to deep water, the points of sandbars or sloughs between islands with deep water close. The mouths of the lagoons and the main river are hotspots for big peacocks waiting for fish to enter and exit the area. Search out grass and vegetation break lines working your flies into deep water.

Peacock bass for the most part aren’t leader shy, except in extreme low water conditions which may call for a longer leader. Generally a 6′ fluorocarbon leader 30-50 lb. will work fine for peacock bass in most fishing conditions with floating lines. For sinking lines I like to use a 2-3′ fluorocarbon leader of 30-50lb. Remember that shallow low and clear water conditions may call for smaller pound test. I pack spools of 20 to 50 pound fluorocarbon on my trips. Make sure you pack plenty because your going to be retying quite a bit and you’ll also have break offs in snags. Depending on where your fishing piranha can reek havoc on your flies as well. Make sure you pack a good four dozen flies to be safe.

During high water conditions find steep hard high banks on the river or in lagoons that limit the bait and peacocks from getting out of reach. Concentrating on points or isolated edges of timber or trees in high water will be the hotspots to look for. Whatever you do and no matter what river you fish in the Amazon, don’t let your guide keep you on the main river fishing straight lined banks all day long. It’s happened to me before and you won’t see near as much action as targeting lagoons, confluences, and bends.

Please contact Scott Heywood at Angling Destinations if you’re interested in booking an Amazon peacock bass trip. He’s got many trips under his belt personally and he can answer any questions you have about fly fishing the Amazon Basin, it’s smorgasbord of species, and all the trip details for the Agua Boa Lodge. If you’re lucky you might even find an open spot for his next hosted trip. I hope this post was informative and you’re drooling over the chance to tangle with one of the beautiful gamefish.

Keep it Reel,

Kent Klewein

Gink & Gasoline

www.ginkandgasoline.com

hookups@ginkandgasoline.com

Peacock Bass in the Amazon: Part 1

2011-12-02T19:51:00.000-08:00

I’ve been very blessed to have fly fished many destinations around the world. All have been amazing trips, but one destination in particular I hold close to my heart. Every time someone asks me what’s the coolest place I’ve fly fished, without any hesitation, I always reply fly fishing for peacock bass in the Amazon. Combine the extreme beauty and remoteness of the Amazon Basin with the opportunity to battle one of the most powerful freshwater gamefish on the planet, and it’s pretty easy to see why it ranks at the top of my list. That’s not even factoring in the other bonuses you’ll receive, like catching several other species of fish and witnessing all the diverse wildlife.

“While beginners always seem to catch fish, the persistent skilled angler wielding a precise cast is more often than not rewarded for his/her hard won mastery. Make a good sidearm cast between two logs under a tree and it might be rewarded. Hit that bit of flashing neon green or quickly reload to hit a laid-up chunk of muscle and madness 20 feet off the boat’s bow and it just might work. Peacock bass fishing is intriguing fishing. It is shoulder burning, forearm aching and finger cramping to be sure. There will be snags hooked, lines fouled and fish missed. It is at times maddening, frustrating and patience testing, but ultimately exhilarating, very satisfying and all consuming…and yes, as cliched as it might sound, addicting.” Scott Heywood

Making a trip to the Amazon used to be one of the most economical international fishing trips you could book at a very reasonable $2995, for a week of fishing and lodging. But with the falling US Dollar and economic turmoil we’ve been dealt the last several years, the cost has almost doubled. But in the defense of the Amazon outfitters, so has most other international fishing trips. If your a hardcore traveling angler, you’ve probably gotten used to all the price hikes by now. It’s nothing personal, they’re just adjusting pricing to inflation while covering their own constantly increasing overhead for operations.

If your serious about making a trip down to the Amazon, I recommend going through a sportfishing travel company, like Angling Destinations. They do all the work for you, scheduling out all logistics, prepare custom trip itineraries and packing lists for you, and they’ll answer frequently ask questions so you feel comfortable traveling international. For first timers, it can be a bit intimidating and stressful, especially when you can’t speak the language in the country your visiting. Booking through a travel consultant and not booking straight through the lodge benefits you in two ways.

First, the travel consultant probably has made several trips personally to the destination that your wanting to book. They can tell you first hand what you can expect for lodging and give you up to date fishing conditions at the lodge. They’ll also provide you valuable knowledge on what gear to pack (apparel, fly rod sizes, fly lines, leaders and tippet, and fly patterns) for your trip. Plain and simple they’ll tell you what works and what doesn’t. This will save you a considerable amount of money when it’s all said and done.

Secondly, since companies like Angling Destinations send lodges lots of business, the owners usually go out of their way to make sure clients receive great customer service during their trip. If they don’t they end up risking multiple full group bookings for the year at their lodge. There are some exceptions to this rule but most of the time it holds true for destinations in South America, Africa, Thailand, and so on.

So you made the decision to move forward booking your first peacock bass trip to Brazil or Venezuela. Both countries have very good peacock bass fisheries, but Brazil is your best bet with it’s more stable government and friendly citizens towards foreigners. On top of that, the Agua Boa Lodge is located in Brazil, and it’s the cream of the crop when it comes to fly fishing for peacock bass. The Agua Boa Lodge is the only catch and release, fly fishing only lodge in the Amazon. They have over 100 miles of protected waters exclusively at their disposal. If you’re a fly fisher and conventional fishermen as well, I’d probably recommend additional Amazon outfitters throughout Brazil and Venezuela to check into, but for fly fishermen only, the Agua Boa Lodge is the only way to go. You’ll find 20 foot aluminum skiffs with large casting decks and poling platforms for the guides. And even more importantly the guides understand fly fishing terminology and how important boat position is for making good presentations. You won’t find this fly fishing friendly boat set up or knowledgable fly fishing guide staff anywhere else in the Amazon.

This post is from the Gink and Gasoline blog. Go to ginkandgasoline,com

These guys do a great job and have some magnificent photography. Take a look!!

Sea Hunter Nov. 2011

2011-12-02T11:45:00.000-08:00

It seemed appropriate to end the trip at the same spot where it started for me seven days ago. Behind me was a vast, now dry, bight. Endless small white sand mounds corrugated the bight. The fish that were on this huge flat with the flood had now moved out into the bay. They seemed to like the corner where I was standing. Here, the mangroves that marked the boundaries of the bight gave way to an ancient coral strip that jutted out into the bay. It was a good landmark and as such, a good staging spot for the bonefish. On our first afternoon, I had caught 4 or 5 big bones here. I had eventually quit the area when large lemon sharks got wind of my good fortune and came in to collect their share of the profits. Then, as now, the Sea Hunter sat in the shimmering late afternoon sun of Jackfish Channel. It had taken us only a few minutes to reach the boat after our first great day that had eventually led to so much carnage.

Now on our last afternoon, I was back in the corner again. After waiting out the usual lack of productivity at slack low tide, I began to see sign as soon as the tide turned. Initially I saw only flashes, but before long there were tails. I hooked a good fish almost immediately and saw a really big tail during the release. This fish was sneaking in toward the bight. When a small shark moved too close to the bone the surface water shuddered almost imperceptibly. This big bone had good reason to want to be in the pimpled area behind me; almost every divot held a small crab. When walking through this area earlier, these tan crabs would stand their ground with claws up like quarter-sized prize fighters. A sharp hook on a crab fly must not seem so bad to a bonefish feeding on these little tough guys.
My big tail eventually worked to within casting range. I could tell he was big. In length... in the upper 20’s, in weight... almost, but not quite, double-digits. The fish on South Andros had been impressive on this trip. With a 28.5 and a 29.5 fish already caught and photographed, it was clear the the enforcement of the bonefish no-kill, no-netting policy by the government was having the desired effect.

I whipped a 40’ cast five feet in front of the chunk. I let the fly settle to the bottom, then made a long slow strip. The fished dashed to tail behind the fly. He did not take it. He hovered slightly tipped down and not moving a scale. Soon, he drifted back inches, I bumped the fly a bit trying to remember exactly how those crabs behind me had fidgeted when confronted by me. The big bone charged. I knew he was now eating my little nickel-sized tan fly. I stripped. He was on. I threw line into my guides hoping to reach my reel soon. I was not disappointed. The fish went thru my fly line and half my backing before I could make a plan. I dropped my rod to the left trying to stop the run. Eventually, it worked. I pulled the fish back to the shallows eventually reaching 15 turns of the sky blue line on the reel. I was anxious to see this fish and didn’t notice the big lemon until he was 20 feet away and throwing water as he shot through the shallows. Damn, somehow I had forgot about the sharks!

I quickly took the tension off my fish. He ran back towards the bay. The shark, was all juiced up. With back humped he turned towards me obviously thinking I was the big bone. He made a straight line towards my feet. I charged the shark kicking scoopfulls of water trying to let him know my size. He turned off, but when I stopped, turned back. He immediately accelerated and rammed my foot. I stomped on his head. He was a solid 5 feet. Doing the scared shitless shuffle, I alternately hopped and stomped. For some reason, the shark wanted no part of the chicken shit I had become and flashed away. After a few deep breaths, I regained my composure along with a restructuring of my priorities. I hoped there was still a chance to land this fish. I reeled in 200 yards of slack backing before I came tight to my bone. I pulled hard surfing him towards the safety of my now dry perch. I could see the bonefish and he was big. Maybe my best fish of my trip. Just when I thought I might make it, the shark reappeared. Shit! I took off the pressure, but it was too late. The bonefish took off, but soon I saw the big shark’s tail thrashing in 4 feet of water.

I signaled to our guide George to come with the boat. I’m sure he had been watching my histrionics. Suddenly, I wanted no part of this. This was not catch and release. This was catch and feed a shark. Even though I could see more fish flashing, I really didn’t want to kill anymore bonefish, especially another exceptional fish. I hopped in the skiff, muttering to myself. I could see the big bone’s head flashing on the bottom as the shark dined. What a great trip, but I needed a beer.

Back to the dinners for a minute: we had hogfish with a Thai BBQ ginger, sesame sauce, a superb pork loin, Anson Mills grits with snapper (at my request as my favorite meal from last year was Mike’s AM grits and shrimp... man it is good... I’ll get some of Mike’s recipes for seafood and we’ll post them!)!...to continue: a wonderful barracuda we caught on the bank side at Fish Cay, (Thanks Anna!), hand-rubbed steaks, grilled snapper etc. etc. I can’t even remember all the wonderful evening meals we had, but suffice it to say, we did not suffer. The guides (George and my old friend Stanford a.k.a Chicken Johnson) did a great job of always being ready to go and putting us consistently on fish. He also taught Paris Fleezanis of This is Fly how to play dominos Bahama’s stye. Not only was this a great fishing trip, but this was also a trip of truly remarkable events. For instance:

While on a fast plane in Stanford’s skiff on our way back to the Sea Hunter late one afternoon, a pair of $180.00 sunglasses whipped overboard in 4 feet of water. The bottom was peppered with sponges, debris, sea fans and other items all of which looked exactly like sunglasses. We decided we had to at least take a look. We turned around motoring back 150 feet to where we thought they have gone overboard and looked... and looked. One sponge looked long and thin. I jumped overboard, dove under and low and behold it was the sunglasses. What were the odds?

John Riggs hooked a big bone. He couldn’t stop the run and when the backing melted down to his spool it soon broke at the arbor knot. The knot jetted through the guides tangling on one of the last guides on the way. John was sure it would rip off a guide or two and was prepared for the worst. Apparently, when the pressure came off the fish, it stopped. At that point, John quickly grabbed his backing, threaded it back through the now naked guides, reattached it to the spool and landed the fish. Whew, what are the odds?

I hooked a big fish in a channel. I thought the fish was a shark, but had seen enough sharks morph into big bones on this trip that I waited prepared to cast. When the dark form came close enough sure enough it was a bone. I cast, the fish ate, and immediately broke me off at my tippet’s knot. Just a subtle “tink”. The fish probably never felt it. I should have inspected my knot and line after the last fish. Oh well, I lost my fish and the crab fly I was using. I had one of these flies left so I tied it on. An hour later and the good part of a mile away on the other side of the cay, I saw another large bone. He was big. This would hopefully be redemption for the one I lost earlier. I made a good cast, hooked the monster and landed the guy. I measured him at 27 inches at the fork. I took a few photos and when I reached down to take out the hook. I saw some tan silli-legs sticking out the other side of the fish’s mouth. There sat a fly exactly like the one I was removing. Fifteen inches of tippet was attached. I pulled out my fly and my other fly and sent the bad boy on his way, but not before a stern lecture on gluttony and making good choices in life. What are the odds?

Again Many thanks to all! To John and Anna Riggs, Jay Hillerson, Scott Sawtelle, and Paris Fleezanis... what a great group and what a good time! Thank you all! Here are a few comments from the trip members:

Many thanks for another great trip and group. Really learned a lot about the bones this week regarding patience and seeing fish and them seeing me. Most I've ever caught and biggest. Hope to spend another week with you to learn about where they should be in relation to islands, channels, tides etc....Jay Hillerson

Sea Hunter was one of my best fishing trips ever. You da man!... Scott Sawtelle

Scott, I wanted to tell you what a fantastic trip South Andros was. Everything was just really fantastic! I can't think of anything I would've had different. The group was really fantastic and I enjoyed fishing with every single one of them. Thanks for including us in the group!!!... Anna Riggs

If you would like to read more on this year adventure, Paris Fleezanis will be writing a story on our trip for the upcoming December issue of This is Fly. To see it go to This Is Fly or click here. We will also post his story on our website under recent adventures. Click here to read more information about The Sea Hunter.

And to Mike, Chicken and George thanks again!

Death of a Sabalito

2011-11-30T17:30:00.000-08:00

Sabalito... the definition is either a dayglow orange, cheesy Mexican snack food or a piscatorial brat... whichever answer is correct once you’ve had one, you’ll want another and another and...

It was hot. A lazy plume of blue smoke wafted out over the gulf. The smoke was from a big grass fire that was burning up north. It would probably continue to grow until it rained. The smoke had made the cloudless sky above us a bit hazy and it seemed even hotter for it. It hadn’t rained here in many weeks. The locals were calling it a bad drought. It was the same drought that was smothering Texas. They needed rain everywhere around the Gulf of Mexico and we were no different. But we needed rain for what was, in comparison, a somewhat silly reason. We needed rain to drive the baitfish from the shelter they take in the mesh of the mangrove roots and out into the bays. With the baitfish flushed out, the tarpon would come in to feed. If this was a normal year, it would have rained by now and the tarpon fishing would be red hot. But this year, the fishing was just OK. Not bad, but certainly not good. Everybody around the Gulf needed rain. Some for fire control, some for a respite from the heat and some of us for fish.

Seaborn Jones and I were with Neko, our stocky Mayan guide. Neko was barely five feet tall, yet I had seen him carry six wooden cases full of bottled beer down a long dock while we were provisioning a tarpon camp. We had run this camp for a few weeks one spring a few miles south of Isla Arenas, about where the big fire was eating up the savannah. Neko was tough, with hands like burrwood. He could pole a big panga all day and pursued tarpon with a dogged determination. We called him the Tarpon Warrior when we had first fished with him, now so many years ago. He had trained all of the other guides who were all members of his extended family. Neko was the clan’s godfather. He was older, but still THE man. He knew this shore like the back of his weathered hand. The Los Petenes Reserve is a maze of undulating shallow bars, banks, rios and shallow lagos almost all of which is blanketed in lush, thick turtlegrass. It is a spectacular tarpon habitat. Acres of sardines school in these shallows and the tarpon gorge themselves not only on this bounty, but also on the many shrimp and crabs that live hidden in the shag of its turtlegrass carpet.

Now, we were pulling into a small interior lago that lay hidden behind the outer bay’s mangrove fringe. We had reached this shallow “lake” after working our way thru a narrow channel that was completely overgrown with white and black mangrove tree branches. The mottled light in the channel was sublime, like being in a cathedral and to use this term to describe a mangrove forrest somehow did not seem hackneyed at all. This lago was, at most, three feet deep and was choked with aquatic plants. I thought it unlikely that a tarpon, even a small one, would choose this backwater, but Neko grabbed his burnished, hand-hewn white mangrove pole and began to move us quietly across the lake’s surface. He poled expectantly as if this was the best spot on earth. I have learned not to doubt THE man.

I made a few casts up against the shorter red mangrove bushes that formed our shore. Here hope flickered where yellow leaves swirled in the wind slicks. Seaborn and I had reduced the volume of our conversations since entering the channel. It wasn’t long before I saw a small shudder of water. Now we stopped chatting entirely and I made a long cast expecting a bonefish-sized tarpon to take a swipe at my grizzly whistler. I stripped the fly once... then twice... hoping it wouldn’t hang up on the weeds. A big mouth, a mouth disproportionately large for this skinny water, sucked in the fly. I scissored my fly line away from my rod and the fly came up tight. It was pegged solid. A big “baby” tarpon, a “sabalito”, exploded from the lago. It was big... certainly 18, maybe 20 pounds, I did not know. But in this skinny lago, it seemed huge as it tailwalked across the surface heading from one bank to the other. I couldn’t control the fish as it made jump after jump. Baby eh? If so, this was a childish tantrum of epic proportions and a demonstration of pure power that seemed anything but infantile. There was not enough depth rom which the tarpon could gain momentum. All the height of its jumps had to come only from a series of shallow tails strokes. Somehow these glancing strikes kept him permanently aloft. I was witnessing a barely containable force. It was pure and raw... and intoxicating. At one point, the hook pulled free. It skipped for a split second, then pulled tight again. If I had got it right, I was unbuttoned for only a fraction of a second. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I had only imagined it.

The tarpon, after fighting both a bent rod and a strong cork drag, eventually came to the boat. I could see it was hooked at the top of its head. That must have happened in the split second that the fly skipped, evidently from its mouth to its head. I gave it no notice. It was a beautiful fish no matter how it was caught. Neko pulled the fish up and out of the water so I could take a quick photo of him with the fish. We got the fish back in the water and pulled the sharp Owner hook out of the top of its head. Blood seeped out through the wound. I had an unsettled feeling. We immediately set to reviving the tarpon. We ran its huge mouth back and forth thru the lago’s warm waters. All the while, a thin stream of red flowed from its head wound. After a tense minute, Neko tentatively released the fish. It finned weakly for a few feet and then turned on its side. As it came toward me, I grabbed it by the mouth. This time I more adamantly set about to revive it. The fish slowly flared its gills, but it was not gaining strength.

I needed to do better. Without much thought, I jumped overboard. I didn’t know how deep it was when I jumped, but I soon found out. While the water sloshed at my waist, I was mired to the middle of my calves in a fetid mix of snail shells, vegetable muck and mangrove leaves. Neko looked at me as if I was insane or at best, a bit unusual. Maybe I was nuts. Or maybe I was a sentimental fool. But I wanted this chrome creature to survive. He was so cool: big patterned silver scales, gill plates intricately etched like the finest filigree, a broad black tail, the huge dispassionate Megalops eye, an elegant filamentous caudal fin and of course, a ladle for a mouth. I did not want to kill such a magnificent fish.

I took the fish by the lower jaw and spun circles pulling the fish through the water. This forced more water over the tarpon’s gills than we could have done from the boat. It seemed to me our only hope. As I spun, I churned up more and more goo. Repeatedly, I checked for signs of life. All I got was a weak flaring of the gill plates. When released, the fish went belly up. After a half dozen more attempts, the fish finned out of my hands. He made two weak tail thrusts then turned on his back and sunk to the bottom. His white belly shone brightly against the dark bottom.

Now, I felt a bit crazy. I don’t really know why. These things happen. I had done my best. Move on. But for some inexplicable reason, I found myself diving underwater, still with my sunglasses on, looking for the tarpon in a swirling mix of mud and muck. I surfaced gripping a silver fish jaw. Water streamed off my hat, sunglasses and chin. I knew I was treading in an area of truly demented behavior. Seaborn and Neko must have been appalled, but the look on Neko’s face betrayed nothing. I smiled at him sheepishly. He smiled back at me and shook his head back and forth as in, “There is no hope.”. It was a kind look. It was not the look of a local who sees fish only as a source of food.

I handed the fish up to Neko and hauled myself up and onto the panga’s gunnel. I swirled my feet in the water to clean the stinking muck off my feet and calves. By the time I had swung my legs aboard, Neko had stored the fish out of sight underneath the front deck. It was now someone’s dinner. Neko briefly touched my shoulder and said, “Gracias”. I think I knew what he meant.

...for more info on this destination click here.