Everyday We're Shuffling

Under the cover of darkness we settled down on a suitable stretch of beach for the night. I was pretty tired after helping Matt and Mark pitch their tent so I decided to rough it in the front seat of the SUV instead of setting up the hammock. Although I’ve done this many times before, I regret the decision to this day. I expected to spend the first twenty minutes or so killing all the mosquitoes, that’s normal. Twenty minutes gone and past, I thought I killed the last mosquito in that vehicle countless times. Each time lying back down only to hear that dreaded sound once again…EEeeEEee! Another great night’s sleep came to an end sitting upright, wide-eyed, and smiling as the sun crept over the ocean slowly shedding its light on paradise.

Arriving at the flat, we decided to change our plan of attack slightly. The first day the middle man in our chain reported seeing some alarmed / weary fish. So we staggered our three prong attack, dropping the middle man back to produce a deep “V" to try and buy these weary fish some time to settle down. Making our way out onto the flat I opted for the outside lane and headed for deeper water, Matt took the inside, and Mark dropped far back in the middle.

Matt and I slowly began shuffling down the flat in search of bones. This morning in particular the flat itself seemed to be alive. There was movement in every direction. As for me, I find these days to be extremely hard to spot fish. I can’t bring myself to ignore how majestic sea turtles and sharks look as they swim by, even if that means I miss spotting a fish or two. One sea turtle made the mistake of trying to hide from me by lying motionless on the bottom directly in front of me. I slowly crept up to it and placed my foot gently on its back and reached down and picked it up. Haha! I have to hand it to the little guy for sticking to his game. I’ve seen these guys jet off a flat faster than a spooked permit in the past. Hopefully it learned from the encounter so it doesn’t end up as table fair.

A few minutes later I got my first shot of the day as two bones entered my view. I placed my fly and no sooner was I connected. One of the bones blitzed the fly the second it hit the water. I don’t recall even transferring the line to my stripping finger, it was unreal. After a brief battle my first of the day came reluctantly to hand. As we continued down the flat I had a pretty unnerving encounter with a large Caribbean reef shark. Mark had spotted the shark 100yds off to my right heading in my direction. I just stood there and watched as it approached. As it got closer I locked eyes with a gorgeous a seven foot shark. It was on course to pass twenty feet behind me and I thought nothing of it until it turned on my mud trail and was coming straight up my backside. Fuck. At this moment instinct took control of my actions. I extended my 7wt. and poked it in the face twice and it slowly turned and swam off. It was pretty awesome. Continuing our way down the flat I connected once more as a loner bone thought it could escape my peripheral vision.

After lunch and a successful search for Red Bull we were ready once again to comb the beach for tailing fish. With two fish under my belt for the day I sat back and watched as Matt and Mark tried their luck. Matt was up first, spotting some glistening tips he crept into position. Kneeling on the beach he waited for the fish to position itself just right before he made his cast. A few strips later his fly was in the crosshairs of a bonefish on a mission. Matt was connected in moments. It’s awesome to watch a bonefish accelerate to a fly in water not deep enough to cover its back.

Shortly after Matt’s fish was landed, Mark found himself in an identical situation. His eyes were locked on a set of glowing fins in the setting sun. Already in position he made his cast and got the response he was looking for, a V shaped wake quickly making its way to the fly. Once hooked the bonefish suddenly didn’t like the seclusion of the mangroves anymore and took Mark’s fly line on a tour of the main flat. Landing this fish concluded our fishing for the day with enough time to enjoy the last colors of the setting sun.

-Adam

Pure Bliss

Our arrival signaled the capstone of our month long sojourn in the Caribbean. As the ferry workers unloaded our pontoons onto the dock, we patiently awaited the arrival of our wheels with our eyes affixed towards the flats. We were pumped to say the least, our minds warped by heightened expectations and two long weeks of very slow fishing and bad conditions. This was our time to shine.

The SUV rocked from side to side with two pontoons awkwardly placed on top, as we made our way down a dirt road. Soon we were sinking into a drying salt pond as we drove all the way to the edge of the mangroves. Stepping into the hot Caribbean sun, we slowly rigged up several rods, tied and checked our knots, and examined boxes of flies. We settled on a three pronged attack over almost a mile of water. Adam settled on the inside lane with Matt in the middle, and myself on the outside. Overlapping our peripheral vision to increase our chances of spotting the elusive golden ghost.

Elusive may be an understatement. This is not Andros South, and we are limited to foot pursuit fly fishing. On a daily basis, walking several miles, we only had 1-4 shots at bonefish each day. The bones are not in vast schools and instead are in singles or pairs. Our time on the flats was spent hoping that the shadow of a bonefish would come into your viewpoint, when they had the entire horizon upon which to roam. Our patience and concentration was pushed to the limit. When the chances came, we tried to be ready, and either reveled in glory or dwelled on our failures. 

After an hour of walking, a shadow crept into Adam's cocoons. Without saying a word, he flipped personalities and his body language changed. He bent at the waist and knees to hide his profile from his quarry. He made his presentation and varied the retrieve, matching the pair of bones advancing towards his position. Matt and I heard the fly line in the air and turned our heads, reluctantly losing focus on a foreground of nothing but sand and water. Stripping tight to the first bonefish of the trip, Adam let out a hoot and several sentences that did not make sense. He was in a state of pure bliss and was wearing his emotion on his sleeves. 

Ten minutes later, the scenario repeated itself. Adam quickly landed another great bonefish leaving Matt and I down 2-0 with several hours of day light remaining. Matt and I had our chances during our three hour march downwind but we came up empty handed. Exiting the water, we had a hike back to the car. The sun had depleted our bodies of hydration and our water bottles were empty. Nonetheless we headed back to the car where we found hot water and roasting cans of ravioli to refuel upon. 

With only a few hours remaining on our first day, we headed to a shallow area along the coast, looking for tailing fish. We found them. With Matt and Adam sitting on the sand, I stalked a large tailing fish in mere inches of water. He was completely unaware of our presence, while actively feeding on a bottom of rolling piles of sand. A close presentation and a very light fly was needed in such skinny water. On my third cast, he noticed an easy meal and charged leaving a wake upon the water. Just like that, I am into my first fish of the trip and he took off towards the mangroves. I placed the brakes on him and brought him to hand. Although you couldn't see it beneath my stalker mask, a smile finally spread across my face.

With the sun setting behind the tiny island, we made our way down the beach to our new mothership. We had to find a place to stay for the night amongst marauding no see ums and mosquitos. Along the way, we exchanged stories of our chances during the day. We talked of stand offs, spooked fish, and a large 10-12 pounder that snuck up behind us on the flat, carrying several pilot fish with him. We tried to comprehend where we were and what we were experiencing but we could not. A shaking of the head was all we could muster. Such is the case when one finds themselves in the moment. 

Success Before The Storm

With a full moon a few days away, the tides were fluctuating at very high extremes and they occurred at points in the day that were not ideally suited to bonefishing. Nonetheless, we headed out on a falling tide (our favorite) to hit up a local flat we knew held fish. Reliably. What was once a flat was now an exposed region of dead coral and turtle grass leaving only a hundred yard stretch to fish. We had the sun and wind at our backs which helps considerably sighting and fishing to bonefish over deep turtle grass. Thankfully, we found tailing fish in the distance. A school of 2-4 lb. fish moving cautiously towards skinny water and we were there to meet them. The fish were schooling in a circular pattern and the first two times they came our way, an olive spawning shrimp was followed but refused. I switched patterns to a tan kwabbit and found success with a bonefish taking mere feet from my rod tip. It was my first of the trip and my first ever from the difficult flats of my brother's home island. It was a mountain I had been climbing for nearly two weeks and it was the tipping point I needed to find success later on in the trip.

My brother an I exited the flat to give the bones some rest before heading back for another go around. We hit up several sunken vessels along the shoreline of a harbor for some barracuda action. Several small fish came to hand using a jigging minnow pattern without wire leader. As the fly fell apart it was only a matter of time before a larger fish bit through the mono. After peeling line off my reel, I couldn't keep up, and the thin line found the knifelike teeth ending our barracuda session.

Heading back to the flat the water had receded even further and we waded the deeper areas. The school of bones were on the edge and we had to wait a little while before they decided to come on. On top of the wait, they were extremely cautious. My brother casted well ahead of them and had his pattern waiting in the turtle grass for their arrival. A perfect strategy to simulate escaping prey ahead of an advancing school of fish. Connected, he gently cradled his prize in the water. The bone visually displayed its surroundings on its mirror like scales. Colors of green, blue, silver, and white disappeared upon release back to an abode of turtle grass.