This River is Wild: Balancing Act in Blue

The Return...

In 2009, Matt and Stacy went to an international job fair for teachers in Boston, Massachusetts. They left with multiple offers at various destinations around the world. They ended up accepting positions on the island of Tortola, in the British Virgin Islands. The decision for them was bittersweet. The act of leaving their inner city Baltimore teaching gigs was the easy part. The more difficult one was leaving friends and family behind and embarking on a journey living in multiple countries over half a decade. On my end, I was definitely going to miss my brother and future sister in-law. On the other hand, their decision meant that I had a free place to stay and fish in a tropical paradise whenever I had the time to go. Looking back on those trips sleeping on deflating air mattresses, small couches, bare tiled floors, hammocks, tents, and in the sand, I've come to realize that they were some of the best days of my life. At the time, I was young and naive, so I didn't truly appreciate the moments for what they were. However, I have very fond memories chasing bonefish, casting at the rare permit, and dancing with tarpon under street lights at night. I last said goodbye to these islands in 2012. Deep down, I always knew that we'd eventually go back. Twelve years later, we finally did...

Finding the balance between family and fishing time...

A tanker in between being "Uncle Mark"

Having lived as a teacher on the island for three years, my brother still had friends and connections. He was able to score a free stay at a villa managed by one of his good friends, Matt. He graciously decided to host my brother, and his family, for three whole weeks. The villa was no ordinary one, but one usually reserved for the 1%. It was way out of our league. My brother ended up calling the banners of all his friends over the years that lived and fished on the island with him. Needless to say, but his old island fishing crew was excited for a 10+ year reunion. With the trip established and the planned dates getting closer, commitments began to drop like flies. This can be a common refrain for friends past their 30s. Everyone is game until family, kids, and the obstacles of life slowly infringe upon a planned fishing trip. In the end it was just Matt and his family staying for the duration of the trip. I came down for two weeks and Dan Dow came down for one. Even the best planned trips have a habit of slowly unraveling, but we were intent on making the best of it.

I arrived after spending about two weeks DIY Atlantic Salmon fishing on the Gaspe Peninsula. I made the drive home and had a few days to scrap together all of my saltwater gear that hadn't been used in awhile. I needed flies, lots of them, so I mostly spent my days tying instead of packing. In the past, I used to always bring a bag of fly tying supplies on my long term trips because I would always end up needing specific patterns that worked. The fly tying bag I packed was always filled with dozens of plastic baggies, oddball items, and animal parts which always led to some situations at customs. I didn't have that luxury this time. Whatever I tied during these few days would be what I'd have for the duration of the trip.

The act of traveling was very familiar to me. After a few plane and taxi rides, I ended up at a ferry terminal in St. Thomas. While awaiting the ferry, I had nice Caribbean dinner and two famous drinks, the Painkiller and Bushwhacker. The ferry took me on my final leg to Road Town where I carried all of my bags to the side of the road awaiting my extraction. I waited about an hour despite relaying all of my whereabouts, locations, and arrival times to both Matts. It was then I realized that I was no longer on east coast time, I was back on "island time". A half hour usually means two hours with time simply melting away in the absence of responsibilities.

The "Villa" was out of this world. As a multi-million dollar property, it sits on a cliff with a 200 degree panoramic view of the sea and adjacent islands. Getting to the property took time requiring a 4WD high clearance vehicle. In addition, the road was completely washed out from winter/spring storms. The way in required a steep descent all the way down to a beach over mud, sand, gravel, and rocks. The way up was a paved series of ascending switchbacks to the property gates. During heavy rains, tires routinely spun. Once there, it was a private paradise. It was so nice and relaxing, that most of the time we didn't want to leave. There was a lot of family time spent lounging/playing around the pool and taking in the breathtaking view.

I had an overlapping week with Matt's schedule that was mostly family time. We went on multiple excursions with Isaac and Matt/Gemma's daughter, Isla, to different beaches, islands, and retreats. The highlight being a return to Virgin Gorda and the National Parks that exist there. On a lot of these mini-trips, I found myself bringing a fly rod and exploring, trying to download some new information in order to put some pieces of the puzzle together. I was able to catch, or hook, about a dozen bonefish in between family time, which is a high number for these islands. I found a reliable spot that we had never fished before where most of the action occurred. I also ended up hooking and losing a nice permit on the one afternoon Matt and I got out together. These moments satiated my desire to be on the flats all day long. I can say, I've matured over the years and realize that moments as an Uncle are fleeting and that I need to find a healthy balance between family and fishing.

It was a balancing act in blue...