Father's Day

Father's Day came and went a while ago. It has become sort of a tradition the last few years to take Big Poppa Pump fly fishing and then out for a round of golf. Of course, I love the fly fishing aspect of the day but I'd rather be out fishing when it comes to a round of golf, but that is my dad's thing, so I don't mind it every now and then. I particularly enjoy beating him in a round of golf and watching him catch fish.

My father and I have a particular fishing destination in mind whenever we go out. It is close to home, involves a nice hike through the woods, and is home to a good population of wild brown trout and leftover stockers. Back in the day, my grandfather fished here as a kid and I often refer to it as "Grandpa's Stretch," so it has a little more significance on father's day. It is also a perfect place to take our chocolate lab out, Riley, and let her roam around for awhile.

This year, the water has been low and the temperatures hot. With the three of us wondering upstream, the trout easily spooked but I none of us seemed to really mind the lack of fish caught. On this day, they were just an added bonus. The company is what this day was all about.

Hookups & Cold Shoulders

After three days on my brother's home island we embarked for the last time to another island, a little ways northeast, that is home to robust flats and large bonefish. I picked Matt up from school on a Friday afternoon, rescuing him from cleaning up his classroom, and we embarked on the afternoon ferry for a weekend of fishing. On Sunday, he would go back to work and leave me deserted on the island for the remainder of the week. Being the good brother that I am, I decided to fish for bonefish rather them help him pack to move to another country.

We arrived just in time to fish for tailing bones as the sun set. We each had a chance but being a little rusty, we spooked both the fish in mere inches of water.

In the morning, we headed east, as far as an on foot angler can go on the island. There, one can access the flat and walk all the way back to the ferry dock. Knowing how grueling that can be, we just decided to walk a small section of it.

Matt took the outside lane in water 1-3 ft. deep. Here the bottom is mainly sand intermixed with a mottled bottom. I took the inside, mainly a mottled muddy bottom interspersed with mangroves large and small. Matt hooked up on the first fish of the trip as a small school of four bonefish meandered his way to his outside. He was all smiles.

 A short while later, I hooked up on a fish coming off of the mangrove shoreline. He took the fly immediately and I survived two backing runs in and around the mangroves. As I was recovering my fly line the second time, he popped off over a purely sandy bottom leaving me a little perplexed.

Down the flat a ways, I spotted a large permit circling and tailing in a slightly deeper section of water. Wading a flat, your visibility window shrinks dramatically and I didn't spot him until I was almost on top of him. I was faced with a decision: keep my bonefish fly on or quickly tie on a crab pattern. I chose to keep my current fly and not risk him spooking. With my heart in my throat, I laid my fly out and began popping it back with long strips. The permit was on the fly and following all the way to my rod tip before spotting my silhouette, casually turning, and leaving the flat to my utter dismay.

After a long time with nothing to see, we decided to re-walk the entire flat. I was able to exact revenge and catch the smallest bonefish of the trip while Matt had a shot at another large permit. 

We took a midday siesta, heading to a local bar and getting some cold drinks into our system. Then we hit up the beaches looking for tailing fish in skinny water.

For the rest of the evening we only had a few shots at some extremely wary fish. One particular fish was a brute, not very long, but tall and round. He was actively feeding with half his body out of the water where the small waves crested onto the beach. I waited for him to come off the sand to present my fly. He pounced and took off to the horizon line. Once again, I survived two deep backing runs before he rubbed me off on the bottom, something that ended up being a re-occuring theme of the trip. 

Knowing What To Look For

By the third day I had fallen into a routine. Adjusting to "island" time, I found myself sleeping in late, sitting and enjoying the view on the porch, and maybe fishing for an hour or two before picking up my brother from school. With bonefishing being as difficult as it is on the island, I learned over the past few years where the limited amount of fish are and when they are there. Before, I would fish all day with nary a bonefish spotted and only a few small snappers and jacks to even mention. Now, I was taking my time, picking my spots, and enjoying the rest of the time with a book, a view, and a drink.

So it was, that I headed to a small turtle grass flat on falling high tide. This particular section of water is only two hundred yards long and is fairly narrow. Fish tend to come onto the flat from the deeper water nearby. Some days there is a school of six-ten small fish but most of the time you are fishing to singles or pairs. One particular single, that kicked my ass on day two, is close to double digits but is incredibly wary and often sees me before I see him. On day three, I headed back for some revenge.

I walked the flat twice, securing bonefish number two on the second trip. The flat is ideal to walk since the sun and wind are at your back. The difficulty is in seeing the fish. On day two, I spent most of my time looking for a darker shape along the turtle grass bottom because that was what they looked like last year. With partly cloudy skies, high winds, and cresting waves it was very difficult to see a lone fish approaching from a far. When I finally saw the big guy he was a lighter color, which surprised me. Often you need to know what to look for before you actually see it. With that image in my mind I headed out on day three with cloud cover and the aforementioned winds and waves. I spotted a bonefish along the mangrove glide over a three foot patch of sandy bottom. A long cast landed a few feet away and I immediately tied into a different fish. The invisible one over the turtle grass bottom. I didn't complain because with bonefish, more than any other species, you often catch the one you can't see, even if you know what you are looking at.

Like a Bowl of Oranges

But if the world could remain within a frame
Like a painting on a wall
Then I think we'd see the beauty then
And stand staring in awe...

Flying Solo

With my brother still teaching for most of the trip, I was flying solo around the islands hitting up some favorite spots for the last time. This meant that I would have little opportunity to get some proper images. Most of the images from the trip will be GoPro video stills (sorry everybody). Last year we explored a more remote flat hidden by a deep lagoon. However, a storm system and a thousand mosquito bites really put a damper on any chances at a bonefish. This year, I had sunny skies, a whole afternoon, and a falling tide. After a "secret" mangrove tunnel, I emerged into a large sandy cove. After a few minutes of searching, a small street gang of four bonefish emerged from a clump of mangroves and headed in my direction. After pulling my fly out of the lead fish's (and largest) mouth, I settled for the second one in the group. Last year, it took 17 days for me to catch my first bonefish on this island (no joke). This was day one.

As is often the case here, I didn't see another bonefish for the rest of my day. I picked off several willing bar jacks (blue runners) on the flats and a few more between the large boulders at the entrance of the lagoon. The highlight of the day was breaking off a huge snapper that took a mantis shrimp. Looking back on it, I probably didn't stand a chance on my 6wt. anyway. Besides that, I lost a dozen flies on small barracudas blind casting in the lagoon.

One Last Time.

Three years ago, my brother Matt decided that he was going to leave his inner city Baltimore teaching job and assume the same position in the Caribbean. A fortunate byproduct of that decision was its impact on my fly fishing. As a teacher, I too have the summer's off, and it became a destination of mine to travel and take advantage of his couch. Since, I didn't have to pay for lodging, I could spend a few weeks, a month, or even more, for the price of one plane ticket. Needless to say, I was able to take advantage and head down for several extended stays on the cheap. On my first visit, I had never tested the saltwater on fly and I didn't know what to expect chasing bonefish, permit, and tarpon. After my three trips of purely DIY fly fishing, I gained a greater appreciation for all three species and was successfully able to catch all three. When my brother told me that he was leaving his job and his house on the beach, I couldn't complain because I felt like I had fulfilled everything I needed to do there. As I booked a plane ticket there for possibly the last time, I realized how lucky I was to be afforded the opportunity to cast a line in some beautiful, remote locations. This time, I decided that this was going to be a mellow, laid back trip. I was just going to enjoy it, one last time.