Bonefish on the Brain Bonefish and all that relates (maybe a bit about tarpon too).

There is a lot to love.

1. You inspire awe. When you see a tarpon there is a jolt of excitement. They are so large, so wonderfully big, it almost seems impossible to catch one on a fly. But it is possible and seeing the fish is the first, most important step.
   

   Awesome shot by Jim Klug.

2. You make the little things matter. When you fish for tarpon you better be damn sure of your knots. All the little things you can get away with when fishing for trout or even bonefish, those little things turn into big things when you are fishing for tarpon pressing up against, or even surpassing, the 100 lb. mark.
3. The jump. Seeing a 100 pound fish separate itself from the ocean by 6 feet, jumping up into the air, twisting and thrashing and then smashing back into the sea… it is simply one of the defining moments of any angler’s life.
   

   Adrienne got the photo. I got the photo of the photo.

4. Eats, jumps and landed fish. You count tarpon differently from any other fish, because they are different from any other fish. They are damn hard to land, so you get partial credit for fish you feed and fish you jump. No one cares if you feed a trout and don’t land it. People understand that feeding a tarpon, or hooking one and getting it to jump, are difficult things, worthy of some sort of accounting.
5. That dorsal fin. That long, trailing elongated heavy filament of the dorsal fin is so elegant and beautiful.
6. You inspire passion in others. Just look at the folks behind Save the Tarpon who are fighting to restore some sanity to Boca Grande. I love that sort of drive and passion.
7. It all happens NOW. You spot the fish and it is go time. It has to happen now. Quit your damn false casting and send it. There is not time for screwing around or screwing up. That’s tarpon fishing (mostly, from my experience). Long moments of silence and stillness interrupted by moments of complete chaos and unbridled energy.
8. Robbies in the Keys and The Sunset Grill in San Pedro. If you don’t feel the unreserved joy of a little kid at one of these places I’d check your pulse, You are probably not alive.
9. Travel and tradition. Tarpon are migratory. It happens every year and every year there are traditions and rituals that spring up all along the route. It is a happening.
10. Here’s looking at you. Those big, huge eyes. There is some intensity, some depth in those eyes. You are so easy to love.

My experience with tarpon is still “light,” but since when have I let that stop me?

1. You make me stupid. When I see a tarpon I instantly lose half my IQ. I do stupid things. I forget the things I know about what I need to do. I flail. I fail. I am constantly humbled.
2. Distance and Cost. There was once a bonefish caught in the SF Bay (I’m not kidding), but there has never been a tarpon in the Bay (although there is one at the California Academy of Sciences). Alas, you are soooo far away and it costs a lot to get there and do that.
3. The redneck cult of destruction. Boca Grande and the Hell’s Divers… ugh. There just seem to be a lot of d-bags out there who want nothing more than to get that picture with a dead, dying or profoundly mishandled tarpon.
   

   That just sucks.

4. I don’t know enough. That’s right, I hate tarpon a bit because they make me insecure. I fear what I don’t understand. Should I throw a 10 wt.? 11? 12? Floating line? Clear tip? Should I throw a 1/0 or a 3/0?
5. Your damn hard mouth. When you eat a fly like that it should stick. I find your boney, hard mouth an insult to the sport of fly fishing. When I stick you well and you jump and then just spit the fly back at me… well… I find that disrespectful of me and what I’m trying to accomplish. All I’m saying, tarpon, is you could stand to be a little less selfish with the spitting of the hooks and your general propensity for coming unbuttoned. Good day sir. I said good day!

The one that got away, Florida, 2013. Photo Adrienne Comeau.