By Staff
Recently my daughter's husband has been getting the fishing bug, something he hasn't done much of. " Don't think I want to fly fish, though," he said. "As near as I can tell that turns into a disease." Boy, he hit the nail on the head there.
The moment wife mentioned a midwinter vacation I began researching tropical fly fishing opportunities. Long story short, if you read last week's column you know we went to a little known coral atoll in the Caribbean far off the beaten path. It reportedly was fishable right from the beaches for a multitude of species, including the holy grail of saltwater fly fishers, the elusive bonefish. The island's name isn't important, the point of this article is that just about anywhere there is accessible saltwater there are fishing opportunities you can do on your own. Whether it be Florida, the Bahamas, Virgin Islands or wherever, fishing can be mixed with sun bathing and socializing at little cost. And it doesn't have to be fly fishing, that's just my particular disease.
I've only fished bonefish once and never even saw one so the reports of bonefish really had my tongue hanging out. I knew, however, that they are one of the most skittish, finicky, elusive creatures that swim. People can devote their entire trip pursuing them and never hook one. This was mostly a do-it-yourself trip but to hedge my bets I booked a guide for two of the days. That's some of the best money you'll ever spend. One day with a guide early in the trip will save you many, many days of fruitless wheel spinning. You learn the little local nuances that make the difference between success and failure.
I wasn't totally hung up on bonefish, either, and that's a key point. The bread and butter of do-it-yourselfers are what purists consider trash fish, small barracuda and sharks, various jacks, snappers and lesser shallow water fishes I lump into the category of "aquarium fish." That doesn't necessarily relate to size, it's because they're pretty and I have no idea what they are.
If you're like me, our normal haunts are pristine trout streams nestled amongst the forests. The wind is just something that rustles the tree tops. A 40-foot cast is really long. The ocean is a whole new game. In this vast expanse of water a typical trout stream cast seems hardly far enough to get the fly away from your feet. And the incessant trade winds are not winds, they are often gales that stop your line in mid air and send the fly back into your face. That's the real reason for barbless hooks. The double haul cast is essential so learn it.
While wandering around by myself on the beaches and flats I did see a few bonefish, both individuals and small schools but between buck (more aptly, bonefish) fever, the wind and a host of other excuses I never connected. The guided days were a different story. He could see 20 bonefish to my one. You'd think spotting a school of fish in just two feet of water would be easy. It's not. Due to my inept wind casting we had to get close and spooked a lot of fish but I eventually landed four and lost several others. The largest was a respectable seven pounds.
I was wasting a lot of time chasing bonefish on my own and finally gave it up. Following a tip from the hotel owner to fish around structure, in this case coral heads, I began to catch the "aquarium fish," blue runners, jacks and so on. They were a hoot. Most weren't big but had plenty of spunk to strain the hefty eight weight rod. Some like the 20-inch plus horse-eye jacks made my arms tired before getting them in. In all honesty, I had as much fun with these as the bonefish. So what if they weren't the glory TV stars like bonefish, permit, snook or tarpon? Once you get past snobbery it doesn't matter what it is. They all pull on the end of the line and that's why we fish, right? Carpe diem.