50 plus years

50 plus years with the same I am going fishing grin.  Cheers to you pop's for putting that grin on my face early on !  

The Grouper at Conch Point

Memories of fly rod battles come and go as an angler evolves in their personal world of fly fishing. Some memories are replaced with others over time as an angler crosses more and more bridges along their fly fishing journey.Conquests won or lost during a anglers early fishing journey may be replaced with others based on how big, how often, how unique or difficult the human vs. fish interaction was. I often find myself reminiscing of experiences past of provoking a fish to eat and the ensuing fly rod battles. I find myself drawing from these memories often to just get through the pressures of the life I live.

On a recent trip to a remote and angler void section of the Caribbean  I had the opportunity to cast to permit, bonefish as well as giant barracuda the size of small fishing boats. To me all saltwater flats fish encounters are special and landing a permit, tarpon, bonefish or even a barracuda on a fly imprints a memory that will last me a life time.Every unique fish I have encountered let alone brought to hand has and will be part of my thoughts to the end of my days. Barracuda encounters on these remote saltwater flats are common.While targeting giant barracuda the interaction between man and fish can be an explosive one.Casting a fly pattern like a needle fish and stripping it as fast as you can in front of the face of these ferocious fish holding in ambush can be a frustrating game of cat and mouse.Barracuda are unpredictable.You never know when one will eat a well placed and fished fly. On more than several occasions I have humbly waded or poled a boat away  from a giant barracuda that just would not eat. 

Protruding far from the shoreline and separating two beautiful and classic permit and bonefish flats was a treacherous rocky point. The remote trail leading to this point had a mound of aging conch shells that rose above the trail several feet.  The waves breaking into this point produced tide pools that were a perfect hiding place for crab, shrimp as well as small reef fish. Barracuda food was everywhere. Wading and walking on these rocks with the incoming waves was difficult and potentially tragic if one would slip and fall but with giant barracuda on my mind I treked out to the tip of the point..Within first glance I noticed the torpedo shape of a large barracuda swimming away from me near the points edge.Sizing up the script unfolding in front of me I knew I would have to wait for the fish to return and face me to have a chance. I felt the fish would return as I was confident I was undetected in my approach. I decided to make a cast to get the line out I would need in order to intercept the fish upon its return. I would have at least the distance down and would next only have to adjust my casting direction when the barracuda reappeared. Within a split second of the needle fish fly hitting the water a giant dark object appeared from a water filled pocket off the tip of the point. For some strange unexplained reason my mind processed immediately it was a grouper. At the time a grouper was the furthest thing from my mind or world for that matter and to this day I still feel the initial shock I experienced when I recall the encounter. The surreal moment of this event was instantly consumed by the fly rod battle now at hand. At the end of my 20 pound test wire leader was nothing but brute power.The groupers first move after the hook up was bullying  myself, my 10 weight fly rod and 20 pound wire tippet near the jagged rocks below. After a few powerful pulls the grouper decided to go offshore and screamed off my fly line and backing through the surf as it headed towards the second largest barrier reef in the world.



My thoughts turned to the fact I may soon lose the grouper and worse yet the encounter was so unlikely my friend fishing the adjacent flat for permit a hundred yards away would think I was crazy when I shared the tale. Thoughts of losing the fish or the sight of me holding it up in triumph for the camera raced through my mind. I debated on keeping the experience to myself to avoid the ridicule if I lost the fish. If I lost the fish I made up my mind to take this fish story with me to my grave.The grouper continued to scream out line and backing until it reached the reef. The battle turned really dire when I discovered it had hung up on the rocks of the outer reef. In a last ditch effort to at least continue the fight I stripped out line to give the line and fish slack in hopes it would free the backing, fly line and fish from the reef. Amazingly it worked. The line and fish was now swimming free of the reef. I was able to redirect pressure on the the fish. The fish was now growing weary and I was now able to work the grouper back to the base of the rocky point. The fight was far from over until an incoming wave crashed with perfect timing onto the fish and into the point helping me and a straining fly rod pull the beast over a rock into a perfect little tide pull.

And on this day The fish gods smiled down upon me  

Word !

The Permit

The Permit

No words spoke about a “Permit” were more spot on then the words of Will Benson of World Angling Media “You seem to never be happy until the next time you catch one”. Since my solo do it yourself trek to the Carribean last July I have been haunted by permit. Months I have traditionally set aside for tying steelhead, bass, carp and trout flies have been neglected and my time at the vise has been consumed with patterns for permit. To make matters worse I live in the state of Idaho far inland thousand and thousands of miles from the holy waters where permit dwell. My shots at casting a fly to these fish for most of the year are regulated to dreaming about it as I tie each permit fly. I have stalked, hooked and landed hundreds of Permit day dreaming at my fly tying vise.

Expectations for this year’s trip were high. Feeling confident after last year’s successful do it yourself solo trek I was past the anxiety of part one of the learning curve. I was comfortable with foreign airports, crossing borders, driving a rental car in a foreign land, staying in a countries most remote regions.I had learned enough of the language to order a beer, find fine cuban cigars, order a meal, purchase supplies, get a room, find a bathroom, ask directions and even mingle a bit the with locals. Most important I can now ask local anglers where palometa, macubi, sabalo and rabalo may dwell ? I felt more safe and comfortable in these countries  compared to the few times I have been in large U.S cities such as Detroit and Washington DC. I felt as my demeanor this trek  was now more confident but not arrogant.

Do it yourself fly fishing trips to a foreign land can be daunting. Learning where, what and how will encompass so many elements it is imperative you make it simple. What you anticipate will happen likely wont happen so being able to adapt is a must. For the most part my friend and I kept it simple and yes we adapted. Elements like incoming and outgoing tides and when the fish are during those tides became the main focal point of the trip.With a goal to catch permit, bonefish,tarpon, snook and cuda on a fly the worst possible scenario of the four we could have had on the onset was the permit. Within an hour of exploring a flat I encountered a rather very large permit. I had no shot at the fish as we both made eye contact at the same time. The encounter for me meant the trip just may change from a multiple species trek to an obsessive quest for permit.Detecting a tailing, feeding fish like a permit while wading can be a tricky proposition. These fish are easily startled and for a wading angler in new waters at close quarters the advantage sways to the permit. To sway a bit of the advantage back our way my friend and I purchased step ladders to use. We would wade less but stand high in the water searching for fish. In theory when we would detect permit or bonefish from a high vantage point and be able to see permit or bonefish in ample time to plan a perfect intercept point. The few locals who saw us standing on ladders in a flat thought we were crazy but this unorthodox tool proved to be very effective during much of our do it yourself trek.

Bonefish galore. On our first full day Roger sighted and landed a beautiful 20 inch bonefish. This was indeed the largest bonefish of the trip as we compared it to dozens and dozens of other bonefish we would land. On top (below) is Rogers great Yucatan bone.The lower bonefish photo is indicative of the average 14 inch bonefish we landed during our adventures.

Bonus fish of the week. On any trip one makes to a saltwater destination there always seems to be a species or two that are big surprises or what I call a bonus. This trip was no different. Roger landed a “Trunk Fish” and yours truly was floored with a surreal experience of hooking and landing a Black Grouper after an epic fly rod battle with fish and reef. I hooked the beast while casting a cuda fly off a rocky point. This catch would even excite a local angler that has since emailed me and said in the past 14 years he had landed only two and both were not on a fly rod . We took great pride in claiming and naming this beautiful point of rocks  separating two classic permit and bonefish  flats "Grouper Point"

 Permit encounters were common during the week but  getting a fly in front of one was not. One afternoon with an outgoing tide Roger and I witnessed a fair number of permit feeding on a flat.The fish disappeared almost as fast as they appeared leaving both of us with only one good opportunity each. Both our shots at permit ended with no fish to hand. We were encouraged.

Returning to this flat the next day Roger took a deeper wading approach with his ladder in hand. He stopped in the flat and stood on his four foot step foot ladder and scanned the flat for fish. I took a more aggressive shallow calf deep wading approach near the shoreline. I was looking for tailing feeding fish. Within a few minutes I detected a tail near the shore At first glance I believed the three fish feeding in the shallows may have been bonefish. The wind was blowing hard inland so I positioned myself so my back was to the wind and facing the feeding fish. This would help with casting distance as well as accuracy when the time came. I also waded further away from the fish to stay stealthy. Now I was about 30 yards from shore. I used the small breaking waves as a shield to help me stay undetected. Two of the fish  continued tailing down the edge of the shoreline but one remained tailing as it fed erratically. The moment  I was waiting for came with the tail heading directly at me a 30 to 40 feet. I cast the shrimp fly four feet in front of the fish and a couple inches off its path. In an instant the fish adjusted its path and was heading straight at the fly. I started stripping the fly . Strip, strip, STRIP,STRIP,a permit appeared! The closer the fish came I crouched lower in the water. Just  inches from my 16 foot leader reaching the rod tip the permit eats the fly. I recall thinking if I never catch another fish again in my life this moment in time will stand still for all my days.It was a true magical moment in time, Back home I find myself thousand of miles away far from this special place not satisfied only yearning for the next Permit.

Word