Morning of day four by myself on the island and I am beginning to feel the affects of the week. A diet of nuts, cookies, pop tarts, and cans of chef boyardee are beginning to take their toll, my feet are rubbed raw from my flats boots, and fishing has been for the most part: slow.
The last two days I have on the island are punctuated by extremely low tides in the beginning of the day that make my favorite places to fish almost un-fishable. I decide to do some wading off the beaches. At the lowest of tides, previously in-accessible areas are now able to be waded. I immediately find some unsuspecting fish.
A pack of four bonefish are spotted coming from a mottled bottom over a patch of sand. They are easily spotted before their colors adjust to the new surroundings. The first cast of the morning produces an average (for here) bonefish. He behaves slightly different than most of the bones I catch, in that he doesn't do the standard two runs. He stays in close, going in and out making circles around me, before going on a short backing run. I bring him in for the land and get some Go Pro stills. What is interesting about these Go Pro stills is that they produce the reverse effect of your typical fly fishing shot. Rather than making a fish look large by extending your reach, the fish appear smaller because your arms are the closest thing to the camera. The fish appears small when it is actually close to six pounds.
After releasing the fish, I spot another bonefish on the same sandy bottom. I make the cast and find myself fighting the mirror image of the previous fish in terms of size and attitude. After I release the second fish, I spot a large barracuda in the vicinity. Is that why they weren't taking off? Either way, I was lucky to not have lost the two bones.
That morning, I made two casts at bonefish and landed both of them. For the next six hours, I don't recall seeing another fish. A band of heavy clouds rolled in, occasionally dropping some rain. They appeared to only come over the small island. To the north and south of the island, there was nothing but clear skies. Overhead, a long line of clouds put a damper on my fishing. For the afternoon session, I had some close quarters combat with some nice bonefish under the heavy cloud cover. With visibility already low from wading in knee to waist deep water, the cloud cover really limits your chances. Often, you'll see your adversary at the last second, sometimes only twenty feet away. By that time, he sees you too, and you can't get a cast off.
Parched and looking for a meal, I spent an hour gathering driftwood along the shore to make a fire. Surprisingly, the wood was bone dry, despite all the rain the past two days. That should give you an idea of how hot it is here.
I made my fire on the beach that night, under the stars and what could be seen of the milky way. I carved a stick with my Gerber survival knife, cracked open a can of Spam, and stuck it on the stick. I gave it a slow roast over the fire. When the outside is extra crispy, you can eat the top layer of the brick and it tastes good. After that first layer, its spam from the can again, and you have to roast it some more. I ate a whole can, lost a few years off my life in the process, but it sure beat chef boyardee.