Action

This past month I've landed almost 10 bonefish. If you're keeping score at home, thats 9 more than I'd landed in ALL OF THE ENTIRETY OF LAST YEAR. Through endless, sun-scorched hours of trial and error on the flats, discussions with more experienced fly fishermen, tons of research, boxes of experimental flies, encouragement from Mark and Adam and an understanding girlfriend, the hope of landing a bone was kept alive. Finally, knock on wood, the fish are cooperating.

Driving home from a kayak excursion last weekend, I noticed a flock of pelicans bombarding the sea a few meters from a sandy shoreline. Sandy shore + bait = bonefish. I turned off and broke out the 8wt permanently kept in the back of the truck.

In a few minutes, I was in knee deep water thick with bait. I saw my first bone in a moment, and then noticed a big boy cruising away from me, between my position and the shore. I bombed a cast beyond him and popped the fly through the water column. I smiled as he turned 270 degrees to attack my offering, and I was into my backing before I knew it.

I beached him and only then realized it was my personal best bonefish. I grabbed a self-portrait with the setting sun over my shoulder and my Movember 'stache capping it off. The fish was not very long, but it was a real hog. No doubt growing thick on the easy pickings of bewildered baitfish.

Movember Bonefish

I called my fishing buddy Zach, the other Science teacher at the school we both work at, and inadvertently rubbed in the fact that I have been hauling them in lately. Realizing he has yet to land a bonefish, I solemnly swore to put him on some fish before I hooked another one...