Yeah… this is a pretty interesting story… covered in tarpon crap in a sinking kayak on the West Side of Andros. That sort of experience might stand out and it goes down as Scott’s most memorable fish.
I realized that an 8 wt. was not the right rod for this size of fish.
I realized that I had stupidly left this big fish no room to retreat
and I realized that I was going to get hit… hard… and it was going to hurt.
Memorable
Belize is not known for big bones. A 7 pounder is a monster, a 5 pounder is a pretty big fish and the fish you mostly catch are around 2 pounds… schoolies, fun, fun fish and lots of them (like, a whole lot).
While I was out back in the lagoon I managed to catch my biggest Belizean bone to date. I’m going to call this fish around 4 pounds (maybe 3.5?).
Good times.
Not huge, but big enough to be fun.
—
The long dock jutting out into the Caribbean in front of El Pescador is not that different from the many, many other docks that one finds to the North of the sleepy town of San Pedro on Ambergris Cay, Belize.
There is one thing that does seem oddly appropriate about this particular dock though. There seem to be bonefish around it at pretty much all times. They usually aren’t the biggest fish, but they have a way of hanging out in the same spots time and time again. It is very common to see them cruising slowly away over the turtle grass on both the right and left sides as you walk out onto the dock. Past the casting platform they can often be seen over light patches of sand, in slightly deeper water, not 10 feet off the dock itself. The deeper the water, the less concerned the bonefish appear to be. They will mill around in the same exact spots for 20-30-60 minutes.
These fish are pretty used to people and they are hard to convince to eat a fly, as they have likely seen the vast majority of flies anglers have brought with them to El Pescador over the years.
Still… I like to throw at them. Why? Because they are there.
The first day we were there I rigged up the T&T TNT 7 wt and headed out on the dock, looking for bones. I walked down the dock and saw a little cloudy water. I walked past about 20′, turned around, cast my #8 gotcha into the cloudy water, counted to 10 and gave a strip. There was weight, angry weight on the end. Bam. First bonefish of the trip. A dock bonefish.
My first fish of the trip, from the El Pescador dock!
Pretty much, I was stoked.
One, or maybe two days later, I had walked the grass a bit in front of the lodge with no fish sighted. I walked down the dock and sure enough, there were fish over the sand, about 5 feet off the dock. They were in deeper water and I had been fishing a #8 gotcha, so I switched to a #4 Peterson’s Spawning Shrimp, something that would get down faster. I walked past the fish, turned back and cast. I counted to 4 or 5 and pulled and the first strip found a fish.
Second dock fish. Bam.
#2
Another day, while the Mrs. had some casting lessons I was casting around the margins and hooked a little snapper. As I turned to tell the wife that I had a fish on a smaller (2.5′ or so) cuda smashed the snapper, staying connected to the fly for a little while before cutting the line. That was fun, but that was the end of dock productivity.
I love that dock.
—
I am up early, 4:30 AM, the last day at El Pescador. I could fish for bonefish, and I love bonefish, catching as many as I have time for, but I’m starting to understand things about flats fly fishing. When the King is holding court, you attend.
Tomas, my guide for the day, is waiting for me before the sun breaks over the horizon. “I should have told you last night to leave at 4” he says. I think a 5 AM push off is pretty good, especially in the light of it being the last day of my honeymoon. My wife is in bed, asleep I hope and I’m off to hunt tarpon between Ambergris and the mainland. As we get into the panga to depart the air is still, the water calm, the silence loud. It is pure smoothness as we slide through the water, heading West.
Soon, our first stop. A mangrove island full of bird calls. The sun is just emerging, but is hidden behind a wall of gray. Clouds coming from the East have stalled with no more wind to carry them. One massive cloud sits above us, seemingly forgetting its race across the sky, content to look down on Ambergris, on us.
Stillness
The water, still and unmoving, reflecting the grey underbelly of this huge cloud, is indistinguishable from sky. We try to peer into sheets of cold, grey steel.
We wait and watch for rolling fish. There is only stillness and birdsong.
Reel up and run.
The cloud has not moved. The air is still. The sun is climbing. The water still impenetrable. The fish hidden.
Reel up and run. This time all the way to the mainland where the same story is told. We have not seen a fish.
We run back to the East and find a break in the clouds, but the glare on the water is still difficult, still like trying to see through polished steel.
Totally still.
The air remains static and while we finally have the lights on I now grasp the other disadvantage of a windless day on the water. The heat. It is hot. Really hot. I try to find even an inch or two of shade from the low gunwales on the bow of the panga to provide respite to my baking feet. The light blue deck is molten.
“Gulp.”
Tarpon breaking. We see them. They are in range and I make the cast, landing the light 3/0 bunny 3 feet in front of the lead fish. He charges, inhales, I strike viciously and the fish bolts into the air. I bow, the fish lands and the fly parts company with the fish, excused.
Damn.
“We’ll get the next one in the boat” says Tomas.
He’s wrong.
The next one I won’t see in the glare and I’ll put the fly right on his head. He’ll bolt.
The next one is too close to the boat to cast to.
The next one is 30 feet too far away.
The next one isn’t interested.
The next one I line.
The next one I can’t see and again put the fly on his head, which he is not keen on.
As we search for fish the wind is an absent player, but in place of the wind is the heat. It is smothering, intense heat. I have sweat dripping down the backs of my legs. My shirt is soaked. My feet, even through my polarized lenses, look bright, fire red. I feel like I am losing gallons of water a minute, but I’m hesitant to take my eyes off the water to get more fluids. I don’t want to miss the King.
The next fish I spot just as Tomas is about to point it out. I say “Tarpon, 12 o’clock” and point my rod. Tomas says “yes!” A school of 5, maybe 7, heading right at us. I cast, a good cast, and the lead fish charges the fly and crushes it. I strip set, feel the fish and then, inexplicably, sweep the rod. The fly is out, but the fly is still in play. I strip again and the second fish charges. I set. I feel the fish. I set again. The fish leaps in the air. I bow. I still have the fish. I start to think about getting the fish on the reel, getting ready for the battle. The fish jumps again and I bow and the fly… it unbuttons.
Tomas has no complaints. He says I did everything right, on the second fish.
Tomas does not say we’ll get the next one in the boat.
The next fish I cast behind.
The next fish comes with a gang and follows, chases the fly too close to the boat, but the school is still there. I cast in the middle of the milling fish and one smashes the bunny before I can get ready. The chance is gone and so are the fish.
There is no next fish. I realize if we actually find another fish I wouldn’t have the time to fight it. The trip is done, the honeymoon is about to be too, but this was a good day. I got my shots and I just didn’t convert. This is why we play the game.
A beautiful, wonderful, windless day in Belize.
“If it were easy, everyone would do it” says Tomas.
—
The last piece of gear I needed came today… a 10 wt. Sage Response loaner. I’ve put on the Lamson Lightspeed and a clear int. sink and I have in mind mangrove channels and baby tarpon. I close my eyes and see a 25 pound “baby” emerging from the leafy darkness, frantic casting, the fly landing close, the fish seeing it, charging, opening it’s dumptruck mouth and inhaling the fly, quickly turning away, and then the chaos. Holding the line tight to keep the fish from running into the mangroves and ruining all hope, the fish will leap, high and repeatedly, putting holes into the still water with every jump and crash. The fish will be subdued, maybe not the first, but I’m hoping the 4th or 5th shot might stick. I’m predicting some shrieks from the newly minted Mrs., and I’m expecting awe and if it comes together, I’ll have it, because it is that kind of experience, it inspires and commands awe.
That’s what I have in my mind. That’s what I want to not only experience, but share.
Anticipation
—
Andy Danylchuk, Ph.D. is one of the foremost researchers when it comes to bonefish. He’s a pretty interesting guy and his work is critical to those of us who like to chase silver on the flats.
I recently got to meet Andy at the IFTD show in Reno. I pumped him for good info and asked him to do an interview for the blog, which he agreed to. Here it is.
A friend of Andy’s with a good release photo. (photos from Core Angling).
Andy, what has you particularly excited when it comes to bonefish, tarpon or permit research right now?
Still so much more to discover. Although anglers focus so much on these icons, we still know relatively little about them. Every piece of research about their ecology, movement patterns, and best way to handle them once caught can contribute greatly to the conservation and management of this trio.
Photo from Core Angling.
What has you most concerned when it comes to bonefish right now?
Not learning enough about them in time to make the best decisions related to their conservation and management. For instance, it wasn’t until a few years ago when we finally had some stats related to how air exposure can influence the susceptibility of bonefish to predation following release. Many have seen bonefish getting attacked by sharks and cudas after letting them go, but one of our studies showed that for every minute of air exposure, the chances of a predation increases by six times. Even if half of the anglers targeting bonefish work to eliminate air exposure for the fish they catch, that increases the chances of survival for a good number of fish. Same is true for learning about their essential habitats, like where the juveniles live or where bonefish spawn. It wasn’t until recently did we discover that bonefish in The Bahamas form large aggregations and move to deeper offshore waters to spawn. Finding and protecting these spawning aggregation sites might prove to be a critical piece of the ‘conservation’ puzzle.
What is one of the weirdest things you’ve seen out on the flats?
First on my list would be golf balls – I have a collection of them from various flats. It is amazing how startling it is to come across a golf ball when you are in a search pattern for bonefish or permit. The second oddest was a computer monitor that got caught up in the mangroves.
Every once in a while someone comes up with a claim of a 20 pound bonefish. Hawaii, New Caledonia, South Africa. Do you think there is a 20 pounder out there and if so, do you think it could be caught?
Anything is possible
What should the individual angler be doing to help preserve bonefish populations?
Learn and apply best practices for catch-and-release. Minimize or better yet, eliminate air exposure; reduce handling time by using barbless hooks and simply being prepared; stay tuned for updates from groups such as Bonefish & Tarpon Trust as these best practices become more detailed/refined. Also, just recognizing that one person – the angler – can make a difference when it comes to each fish they interact with.
Another good release. Photo from Core Angling.
What more should the industry be doing to preserve bonefish populations?
Promote a general conservation ethic – having advertisements and magazine articles describing and showing images that reflect known best practices; showing support, even in a non-monetary way, for conservation efforts.
Thanks Andy. Keep up the good work.
—
I’ve been trying to come up with a good post around the title “Game of Bones” for a while. Love the Game of Thrones series and it just begged for a blog post. Alas, the This River is Wild blog beat me to it.
Great post, great pics and one hell of a title!
Bonefish are awesome. It is known.
The bonefish kept me going. I couldn’t believe the amount of chances I was getting but even more unbelievable was my batting percentage. I was getting schooled. With the high winds, there was a nice chop on the surface of the water that was disturbing sand and mud on the flat making visibility difficult, but I had a cloudless sky and the sun overhead. Often, I could see the bonefish but by the time I got into position for a cast, I couldn’t see them anymore. Taking your eye off a fish for a split second or even blinking resulted in missed opportunities. I left a lot of big bonefish on the table.
—
In case you haven’t noticed, the This River is Wild blog is kind of full of kind of awesome fishing trips. I’m not fishing as much as these guys and my stories aren’t as epic. You need to be checking these guys out.
See what I mean?
A broad backed bonefish
—
I asked on Facebook who folks would like to see an interview with and someone said “Buddy Pinder in Abaco.”
Ta-DOW. Here ya go.
Sadly, I didn’t have the budget to fly to Abaco and fish with Buddy, but he did manage to get me the answers to my questions through his wife Cindy. Thanks for that!
The marls world-class fishing. There is no other fishery quite like it.
I got my first fly rod in the early 90’s. It was a 10wt Fenwick. It was given to me by my second client. He brought if for me the second year he came back to fish with me. That rod led to my passion for fly fishing. The first rod I actually bought for myself was a two piece 8wt Sage RPLX that I still have in my rod collection.
Buddy doing the business
A pod of dolphins in less than two feet of water out in the marls about 20 miles from open water. That’s not where you’d expect to see something so big because they are half out of water as they are swimming.
Every angler should have a relatively new fly line on their reel and bring a spare line along with them too. Nothing casts quiet as good or quite as far as a new line! I have one client that fishes with a 20 year old line. He’d be amazed what a new line would do but no matter how many times I tell him that he keeps coming back with the same old line.
Buddy, hiding from the sun
Because of the popularity of bonefishing and the increased numbers of visitors to Abaco overfishing is probably the biggest threat to bonefishing here.
One of the things that I love about Abaco is that it is still sparsley populated so it’s a very peaceful place to live. We only have one traffic light on Abaco so there aren’t any rush hour traffic reports here yet. Plus the water is stunning to see. Just looking at it can raise your spirits and relax you.
I’ve fished with a lot of great equpiment over the years. My favorite reel is the Tibor Everglades that was given to me by a client many years ago. I have a room full of rods and I still use a lot of them. I even had my own signature rods built a few years ago which are great casting rods. But I’d have to say my favorite rod is the 8 wt Orvis T3 because it is a very stiff fast rod that casts great in strong winds. Interestingly enough that rod was also a gift from a client. You may have realized by now that I have had a lot of pretty special clients over the years.
Probably the best all around fly would be a Gotcha tied on a size 4 hook with either lead eyes or bead chain eyes.
Cindy Pinder
I was up near Mt. Shasta again this last weekend with both my girls (daughter and fiancee) to see my folks. There was a beer festival, a patio boat picnic and a little river time planned and that is exactly what came to pass.
This was my fiancee’s introduction to fly fishing (or any kind of fishing) and I made sure she didn’t feel too much pressure. I told her “I don’t need you to love this, I just need you to understand why I do.” She was game, which was a nice starting position.
With light expectations on the line, we headed off to the Upper McCloud River. The Upper McCloud is very different in character from the Lower McCloud. The Upper is less remote, shallower, narrower and home to much smaller fish. Basicaly, it is a great place to start out.
I got Renee all decked out and we were ready. I got her the shirt, some quick dry pants and a pair of wading boots. I figured the waders could wait until it wasn’t 95 degrees out. That was a good call.
Renee at Middle Falls
My fiancee is actually Dr. Fiancee and as you might guess, she’s pretty smart. She also turns out to be a good student and it wasn’t long before she was hooking fish on dry flies. Her first “landed” fish was a small fish that we got to touch the leader on, but it got off before the photo op. In the first hour she hooked 4 and landed 1.
We met my folks (who brought my daughter) after lunch and Renee was still interested in fishing. With no prodding she picked up the rod and started fishing again and it was then that she landed her biggest fish and got it all the way in.
She caught it, but wasn’t keen on touching it just yet. That will come.
I brought a bucket along so my daughter could see the fish. That was a hit.
Awesome.
It was a great afternoon on the water, fishing next to my future wife and having my little girl so thrilled to be there, soaking up the wilderness, and my folks there enjoying their grandchild. At dinner on the way home I asked my daughter her favorite part of the trip and she said it was getting to see the fish in the bucket. Yes… that did not hurt my feelings.
All said, a pretty awesome weekend. I rather like the way this Marriage #2 is shaping up.
Beautiful Country.
When I asked Renee what she thought of fishing she answered:
I liked it more than I thought I would. I really enjoyed standing in the river.
A woman after my own heart. Now, in under two months she’ll be casting to bonefish. That might blow her mind.
