A Taste of Things To Come

Back at the mothership, we learned of another successful outing by land and it was decided that it would be our turn fishing the the flats by rental car. After cooking up some burgers and hot dogs below deck and downing a few beers, my brother and I climbed into our sleeping quarters. Two ENO hammocks strung up on the masts of the ship where they swayed precariously over the side of the boat. The constant rocking of the boat and howling of 30 mph winds made for difficult sleeping conditions. However, our tired bodies fell asleep easily under a blanket of stars with the milky way galaxy easily visible to the naked eye. Around 3 a.m. the winds increased and a smattering of rain on my face indicated an approaching squall. Soon, Matt, Stephan, Stefan, and I joined the others below deck, where we distributed ourselves on benches and the floor for the remaining dark hours of the night.

Conch Wasteland.

Teamwork.

The rain continued until almost noon before clearing.  It allowed us a few hours on the flats before departing the island. Matt, Adam, Alex Davidson, and I decided to fish a section of beaches where we would sight fish to bones in very skinny water. Our last second decision proved wise when after bushwacking through mangroves and jumping cacti we feasted our eyes on several tailing bones. First on deck, Adam delicately landed an offering of crab in front of two tailers that promptly fought over it. The hookset pulled the fly out of their mouths before they tucked tail in a symphony of flying water. Adam decided to trim the size of crab to allow the hook point to have a greater chance at finding flesh. Batting second, I found a single fish mere feet offshore that pounced on a hybrid kwabbit/kwan with a chenille body. My fly also popped out. Examining the fly revealed a rusted hook underneath the chenille that was not visible to the naked eye. The thick lips of the bonefish broke it in two leaving a hookless fly and an unhappy fishermen left to dwell on a beginner's mistake. Alex hooked up with a nice fish that shook free as he landed it. We were 0-3.

Video Still Of Adam's First Chance.

Bonefishing From The Beach.

With the deadline of 3 o'clock approaching, we started to become nervous. The thought of another boneless day on the flats crept into our minds when something unexpected happened. While nursing a Newport on the bank, a large silouhette crept into the view of Adam's polarized shades. Heading towards shore, the torpedo shaped bone crept ever closely to a freshly shaved crab pattern tucked into the sand. One strip later, he pounced and Adam let out a triumphant scream of joy. Together we gathered to feast our eyes on a very large fish. Little did we know, but this exact scenario would prove to be a taste of things to come on a future adventure on the very same beaches.

Video Still of the Big Boy.

A Perpetual Series of Occasions of Hope 2

We awoke early on day two of the sailing trip swaying back and forth in our hammocks on the deck of the sail boat. The weather was pristine on this day and we were all excited for a great day of action. Once again, it was decided that we were to man the dinghy and take it to the east end of the island. This time, the winds were more calm in the morning but we pushed further east arriving 8 miles and 90 minutes later. Not wanting to spook the fish, we took the dinghy to the edge and then walked her the remaining quarter mile onto the flat. Hard work that would be repeated multiple times that day. 

 

Coral Spotter.

Minutes After Departure: Soaked To The Bone.

Our plan was to fish a larger area of the flat from than the previous day that saw good action in the afternoon hours. This time we would have the sun and wind at our backs.  The first hour saw several trunk fish come to hand simply because the bonefish weren't around. After a brief walk back to the dinghy for lunch (vienna sausages!) I spotted a broader silhouette approaching in the distance that soon stopped. The broad black sickle of a tail stuck out of the surface and a wry smile stretched across my face. Permit.

Everyday We're Shufflin.

The Only Species In Sight All Day Long.

 Anchoring.

The perm was only about fifty feet away and heading straight for the dinghy. My brother and I were not rigged for permit and I contemplated changing the mink shrimp I had on for a delicious crab but there wasn't any time. I softly moved into position while letting out line. I dropped the fly in the fish's path and she made a beeline in that general direction. She followed a full ten feet never taking my fly despite my varied retrieve. As I stripped in leader, she finally saw us and casually turned and faded into the distance. Permit 1, Mark 0. 

Wishing, Watching, Waiting.

We Became Masters of the Trunk.

Bar Jack

The rest of the day saw us ferrying and walking the dinghy on and off several flats trying to find the fish. With so much pristine habitat, they eluded us. In our desperate and dehydrated state, shadows and coral suddenly became moving bonefish as we imagined the images we so eagerly sought. Soon we began cracking, and Matt rested his eyes and legs on the dinghy. A descending sun beckoned us back to the mothership but not before experiencing an engine problem that stranded us for twenty minutes. A quick fix left us with barely 20% power and we limped home arriving almost two hours after our departure with another long hot day on the flats coming to an end. 

Resting.

Walking Zombie.

Watching The Sunset As Our Dinghy Drifted Aimlessly.

I'm On A Boat

Early morning and it is pitch black outside as we load up the SUV with all our gear and food for a week long excursion. We drive down deserted roadways still wet from a weeks worth of rain dodging stray dogs, cats, and chickens. Arriving at the harbor we lay eyes on our home for the next five days, a 42 ft. long sailboat appropriately named the "Sea Dancer". 

Heading North

Our Captain & Local Flats Fiend: Alex Davidson

Soon we are launched, and I find myself on my very first sailboat ride. I am in the moment, on a boat like Leo, bustin five knots with the wind whippin at my coat. We are heading north with high aspirations for some above average bonefish and maybe an elusive permit. Along the way we are trolling a spinning rod and a 13 weight intent on dredging something up from the deep. As we make our way to an outcrop of rocks rising from the seafloor, the spinning rod doubles over and Matt finds himself fighting a nice Yellowtail Snapper that Stephan tails and hoists for a victory shot. Things are quiet for the next few hours as each person on the boat prepares themselves mentally for the next few days.

13 Weight & Some Rio Leviathan Line

Yellowtail Snapper

Soon the island appeared in the distance, its tallest point appearing as whispering pines. A sailor's map was pulled from below and we hovered around like soldiers discussing the plan of attack. The group divided in two with one armed with a rental vehicle to assault the wadable flats and the other given a poor man's dinghy to fly up the coast. Adam, Matt, and I manned the dinghy and spent two hours working our way east against wind and heavy seas. All our gear and clothing soaked through with salt and our asses were sore from the journey but we stepped out into a sandy flat as far as ours eyes could see. 

In the Distance.

Armed & Dangerous.

Poor Man's Skiff.

As we slowly made our way back west, we floated with the dingy and waded into the sun with the wind at our back. After a half mile of nothing but sand we found several pods of bones and played a game of cat and mouse until the sun began to set. Adam and I failed on several chances due to severe cases of buck fever with Matt coming through in the clutch nabbing a nice 4-5 lb. fish. The bones were nearly invisible on the sandy bottom so we resorted to stalking into 30-40 mph winds to obtain better visibility. 

Trunk Fish.

Average Bonefish.

Invisibility.

Around 6:30 we realized that the sun would soon be setting and we had a long dinghy ride back to the boat. With the wind and current at our backs, we cut the time in half and arrived by headlamp to reconvene with the rest of the guys to tell tales of fish lost, landed, and released. 

Rain Rain Go Away

The night of day four saw us pitching hammocks in between palm trees around two in the morning. We had just completed and entire day of fishing in terrible rainy conditions followed by a late night session tarpon and critter hunting. Unbeknownst to me, I was stung by some sort of jellyfish as we waded the flats in the night and just as I entered my hammock I had a serious reaction. My body felt like it was on fire. Lying in wet sandy clothes with every inch of your body burning while wrapped in a hammock in the Caribbean humidity is not a conducive place to sleep. I spent the night writhing in pain and discomfort. Around four in the morning, another squall came rolling through. My brother and I found ourselves running bare foot back to the car where we finally found an hour of sleep before waking up for another session in the rain.

That morning we drove to a flat and had a long hike through dense foliage to the water. Along the way we were attacked by mosquitos and no see ums. We found shelter along the wind swept coast but only for a brief while. Another front came moving through the area and we found ourselves trapped on the flat amidst thunder , lightning, and heavy winds. We took shelter along the mangroves where the mosquitos showed zero tolerance. 

The rain barely let up for the rest of the day, which is not good for sight fishing a large promising flat. We didn't see the bonefish until they were under our noses. In the afternoon, we left, thwarted by mother nature with only a few miscellaneous species and dozens of bug bits to show for our efforts. 

Watching Paint Dry

The weather continued to spit in our faces as we made our way to a consistently fish-filled flat.  The sky was overcast as we stepped into the water at low tide.  The plan was to take up positions and wait, perhaps for hours, for the bonefish to move onto the flats as the tide rose.  We wanted to be there to meet them.

Two hours in and a blast of cold air hit us from behind.  40mph winds ushered a cold front towards us at incredible speed.  Thunder and lighting cracked as we high-tailed it back to the car to wait out the squall.

As we waited in the safety of the car, we couldn't help but think that the tide would be prime by the time the storm passed.

We waded back into the waters, hoping to meet some bones, but they never showed up.  We resigned ourselves to blindcasting off of the flats and brought to hand a small barjack and a big puffer.

As the sun set, we again returned to the car and headed east towards a small channel between islands.  Adam quickly brought to hand a smallish tarpon while Mark's 10" herring pattern was blitzed by a 40lb barracuda...talk about heart pounding...

As midnight approached we pitched our hammocks between some palm trees.  We wanted to sleep as close to tomorrow's flat as possible, and fish it with the rising sun. Before turning in, we waded the flat a bit to see what we could find at high tide in the middle of the night.  We caught a small squid with a Skinny Water Culture hat but saw nothing else. We climbed into the hammocks and tried to sleep, in anticipation of the action in the morning.

With Heavy Cloud Cover & Wind We Had To See Some Tail

An Incoming Tide Filling The Flat

Feisty Bar Jack

EP FTW

Big Puffer About To Blow Up

Deflated

Here Comes A Squall

Tarpon in the Night

The Hat Got Inked

What The Tarpon Are Feasting On