Dan's 40th Birthday Trip
It can be tough to live up to the hype of something deemed legendary. For those that have read this blog since the beginning, you may have been most captivated by our trials and tribulations fly fishing out on the far end of the Lesser Antilles. You wouldn't be wrong to say that it was our peak, or our "good ole days". It was a blend of storytelling, adventure, successes, failures, photography, combined with the fact that Instagram didn't exist yet. In those days, Dan was a reader that became enthralled by our experiences which led him to reach out to us. We ended up meeting, and becoming friends, at the Somerset Fly Fishing Show. Afterwards we fished occasionally in Pennsylvania and New York before he moved to Florida where he worked for the Bonefish and Tarpon Trust. After several years, he moved back to Pennsylvania where we've only grown closer as friends. Currently, he serves as the president of his local Little Lehigh TU Chapter and he's a board member of Keep Fish Wet. When the opportunity came for us to return to those islands, it was only natural for us to invite Dan for part of the journey. Once invited, my brother and I realized that we suddenly had to make a decade and a half of anticipation, hype, and stories live up to the legend...
The Search...
We did our best to temper fishing expectations. After all, this isn't a high end bonefishing, permit, or tarpon destination. In general, it's all about catching the island's vibes, culture, and scenery. For that, we wouldn't have to work too hard simply because of the view. The islands, beaches, sunsets, and blue water can do that entirely on its own. For fly fishing, this would be an atypical experience. There would be no endless white sandy flats with pods of bones rolling through. No schools of tarpon rolling in with a guide calling out shots from a skiff. This was DIY on foot. Bones are far and few between and you only get quick shots before they completely disappear. No recasts or repositioning. They are truly ghosts that maximize the water's depth, uneven terrain, and the waves to their advantage. The tarpon fishing takes place at night and you'll find yourselves out on the rocks getting beat by waves in the dark. Or, you can find some dock and bridge lights to ease the task, but there aren't as many lights as the last time we were there.
After Dan's arrival, we showed off the villa, made a brief bonefish beach stint, and spent an evening night time tarpon fishing. On that afternoon, Dan had some chances at bonefish cruising the beaches, but the moments were fleeting. It can be difficult to shake some rust off and have your eyes adjust back to spotting ghosts. Dan jumped some tarpon and we had a good time, despite the slow day.
In the morning, we headed to the main destination that was always the highlight of our previous trips. Sticking out into the Atlantic Ocean, is a four mile spit of sand and coral reef home to the best flats fishing in the area. Hurricane Irma had wrecked havoc on these islands with a direct hit. What we remembered in our long term memory was vastly different. The white sandy flats from years past were suddenly brown with sargassum making spotting the singles and doubles very difficult. We found ourselves searching on the opposite end of the island where it took one session for us, and Dan, to realize that this wasn't going to be a walk in the park.
As the trip progressed, I could sense the frustration and pressure building with each missed opportunity at a bonefish. There were plenty of chances, but they were scattered over many days, tides, and passing clouds. It was as if we were learning to fly fish this particular island all over again. We were in foreign territory and didn't have everything dialed like we used to. I ended up taking advantage of the scant opportunities by catching a few nice bonefish. The two Matts and Dan didn't have luck with the bones. Sometimes, that is simply the way it goes.
With one day left in our stays on the main island, we headed to some old stomping grounds to see if Dan could pull off a walkoff home run and not head home empty handed. On a particular bay that doesn't look like much, Dan found himself walking a beach. Here, there is about 10 yards of white sandy bottom before the water drops off into a small bay with turtle grass. A good spot for bones and the occasional snook/permit, but you have to have the opportunity in close. As Dan was walking the beach a second time, a solitary bonefish came off the turtle grass revealing himself on the white sandy bottom. All of the pressure, frustration, and blown shots of the previous days must have been in the back of Dan's mind as he made the cast. As he hooked up, they definitely disappeared because I heard the emotional release from the opposite side of the bay. I ran the quarter mile back and arrived just as Dan was landing the fish to snap some pictures for him.
Thus on the last day of his 40th birthday trip, Dan Dow got his...
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