This River is Wild: One Battle After Another

Turn, Turn, Turn...

Saltwater flats fishing can be boiled down to specific moments of memory involving heartbreaking defeats, confusing punches in the gut, and adrenaline filled dopamine enriched triumphs. For the traveling DIY angler that only finds themselves on the flats once every few years, those moments carry you until the next chance you have at sealing the deal on some of the most popular gamefish in the world: bonefish, tarpon, and permit. Whether in victory or defeat, there is something about the permit that weighs heavier than bonefish or tarpon. It could very well be the mystique and hype generated amongst fly anglers, but for me it is from my own personal interactions. I can honestly remember every interaction I've had with the permit I've casted to. I can't say the same for every bonefish or tarpon because those moments have been far more numerous and successful. If I can get a good angle at a bone or a cruising tarpon, I'm fairly confident that they will eat, or at least entertain, the fly. The opposite is true when I'm stalking a permit. I simply have no idea what is going to happen on that presentation and how they will react. Sometimes textbook perfect presentation results in the perm darting off the flats. Other times, it is as if they don't even see the fly until they brush up against your tippet/leader. Their body language and behavior is too hard for my novice eyes to ascertain and I've had too few reps. Regardless of ops and experience, tarpon and bonefish are still no cake walk and the same can be said for giant barracuda, sharks, and other species one can encounter while walking the flats. Simply put, you win some battles and you lose some too...

Shufflin'

Victory...

A Tale of Three Battles...

The beach we visited was specifically catered to cruise ship passengers that flocked there for a few hours during their brief stay on the islands. It was jam packed on those days and desolate when a ship wasn't in port. A large no fishing/no cleaning sign was present on the beach, but I saw a local spear fishermen emerge from the reef with some snapper and two large permit, so I figured I could definitely catch and release fly fish, so I did. There was a small micro flat on the end of the beach and I had success with cruising bonefish while standing on a point. Permit were always in the back of my mind, but I had yet to see one there. Matt and I arrived for his first flats session and I gave him the "spot," while I walked further down the coastline. It was an incoming tide and we had the sun at our back. Two permit came cruising into the shallows exhibiting the feeding behavior of a pod of prowling carp. I even had on my carp crab in a tan colorway with shrimp eyes attached. The bonefish liked it, hell most fish do, so I kept it on and waited for the opportunity. It was a game of cat and mouse down the coast. I tried to keep a low profile on the beach as they cruised in and out of casting range. One peeled off and came in super close over a small piece of sandy bottom. The angle was good, I made the cast, and the carp crab settled down on the sand on a dinner plate in front of the permit. The reaction was immediate and the eat happened in slow motion. I set the hook and the perm took off to the horizon. I elevated myself and the 9'6" rod as high as it could go while saying a silent prayer that the dead coral and the edge of the reef wouldn't slice through my tippet. I couldn't stop the fish from making it to the reef, but the permit did eventually stop its run and I began retrieving line. I had yelled for Matt, but he was nowhere in sight. The weight of the fish pulsed on the end of my line and my rod was bent to the cork as Matt came around the corner at a brisk trot. Just when I thought the tide had turned in my favor, the line went dead slack. I was heartbroken and dropped my rod in the sand with all my fly line and backing still out in the water. The other permit was tailing directly in front of my brother and he didn't see it...another battle commenced. Later, I came back for my rod and reeled everything in, I discovered that the reef didn't cut through my line, but my hook was slightly bent out from the battle.

One of the our first nights on the island, we went out to target tarpon by heading to the islands most famous bay. There was a large dock there and it had lights, or at least it did at one point in time. Hurricane Irma destroyed most of the main light sources we relied on over ten years ago to fish at night and they had yet to be replaced. However, the fish were still there and we danced with several fish as a festival raged in the local clubs on the main drag. On the way back, we stopped in a small bay directly in front of my brother's former home. Due to the hurricane, a massive sea wall of large boulders was constructed to save the road here, which presented some dangerous conditions. I walked out onto it and could make out the tell tale silhouette of a larger tarpon in the water. I made my cast with a custom fly and the tarpon followed it back to the rocks and slurped it with only foot left of real estate. A battle ensued in the dark as I hopped across the rocks and entered the water. Waist deep, waves crashing, big fish, and a long battle in shark territory. I touched leader, but lost the fish, which wasn't a big deal...

We were in new territory on a side of the island we had not explored too much because we never had to. It was a large beautiful flat protected by a barrier reef situated a mile away. We arrived at low tide and after a few brief encounters, didn't see a bonefish for several hours. After working down the flat for most of the morning session, I found myself working the other way in the early afternoon. I was about hundred yards off the beach trying to give myself more opportunities at spotting fish. In the far distance, both Matts were walking the beach. The beach had these large turtle grass humps that looked like discolored islands or even the shadows of passing clouds. In the distance, one of those large discolorations looked like it was moving. I recognized it immediately, but it took me awhile to confirm was I was seeing. It was a massive school of bonefish and they were slowly coming my way. I yelled to the Matts to run up the coast and get into position, but they were mostly too late. I adjusted my position so they didn't run up on me. I made a long cast out in front of the school and had my fly waiting on the bottom as they came up on it. It was tough to discern the type of fish that peeled out of the school and chased down my fly, but I was pretty sure they were jacks. I had several pecks on my fly so I paused it. I waited a bit for the main school to come into the zone and I resumed strips quickly coming tight to a bonefish. It was an odd fight because of the "school mentality". Normally, bonefish take off for the horizon but this particular bonefish was trying to stay with the school. Once the school spooked, the fight was on. I didn't know how thick of a bonefish it was until I brought it to hand. Not close to a personal best, but a robust fish and my largest for this particular trip.