In early 2005 I was lucky enough to find myself fishing in the Florida Keys alongside Henry Gilbey and that encyclopaedia of all things angling related, a.k.a. James Warbrick-Smith. We had just spent a few days enjoying the delights of Marathon, our host Rodney Goodship keen for us to sample the myriad of species available on fly, including Ladyfish and Spanish mackerel. The trip had been a great success, but sadly Rodney had turned the 23ft Sports Cat Pro towards shore for the last time, our flight from Miami just a few hours away. Our imminent return to the U.K. (which was at that point gripped by some of the coldest weather on record for several years) did little to enthral us and so to raise the cheer we did what any obsessed destination angler would do, we began planning our next trip!
A brief visit to a Marathon flat had rekindled the desire to catch our first ever Bonefish in both James and myself, while I could see Henry salivating at the thought of finally photographing this cult species, which so far had eluded him. Many destinations were placed on the table, but the recurring venue was the Bahamas. However, we did not want numbers of small fish or to head for luxury accommodation, where the fishing was almost secondary. If we were going to do the Bahamas, it had to be an adventure.
Fast forward to Heathrow, terminal 4, 6.30am, on a bleak December morning and our spirits were high, after a year of planning we were about to realise that very dream. Henry had organised an exploratory trip on behalf of the Bahamian tourist board, not to one of the well-known hotspots such as Andros or Eleuthera, but a two-part expedition, taking in the islands of Mayaguana and Great Inagua. The mention of both islands had resulted in a blank expression from most anglers I had discussed them with, was this good or bad I wondered?
Touch down in Nassau arrived, our overnight stop prior to a morning flight into Mayaguana. An evening in a local pub was full of atmosphere and our first introduction to Conch (pronounced Conk), the famed Caribbean shellfish seemingly present in almost every dish. None of us were daring enough to give it a go, wary of any possible allergic reaction rendering us unable to cast a line, so instead it was burgers, chicken or steak washed down with red wine and the odd beer or two. How English! Before long the five-hour time difference had got the better of us and so weary, we all headed to bed, tired but excited at the prospects before us. As with most of my foreign fishing trips, by 3.00am I was wide-awake and raring to go! Enthusiasm can be a good thing, but beware, in the Bahamas things happen slowly, so don't be as disappointed as I was if you find that your flight has a delay. Two hours later than scheduled we were on a tiny six man aircraft bound for Mayaguana, around 1-½ hours from Nassau.
Several thousand feet above the earth I was overwhelmed by the shades of water and white sandy beaches below me, islands scattered far and wide, no doubt host to a plethora of tackle testing foes. My enthusiasm was now at fever pitch and I could hardly contain myself, if only we could be beamed around Star Trek style I thought, I could be there right now, looking for that twinkle in the sky as a forked Bonefish tail caught the sun signalling its presence. An accurate cast, a realistic twitch and within a fin flick I would be attached to a supercharged hunk of muscle hell bent on putting as much distance between it and its captor as possible.
Three days into our trip and I began to use this overactive imagination to kid myself that I was seeing fish. Mayaguana was certainly wilderness fishing on an island inhabited by just 400 people; none of whom provided a reliable guide service. With so much water to cover all effected by wind and tides, we were out on a limb. It may sound strange to some, but I was actually glad when we stepped onto our flight bound for Inagua. Mayaguana had been a huge disappointment as we had read so much about the area, gurus such as Brian O'Keefe documenting the huge fish available and the lack of anglers casting to them. However it showed just how important a guide is, our tropical fly fishing inexperience had been evident, so much so that I had not cast at a single Bonefish in three days. Inagua, I prayed, would be different as we were due to be shown around by the islands only fly fishing guide, Ezzard Cartwright.
Our accommodation in Matthew Town (capital of Inagua) proved to be very comfortable, but that was incidental, my eyes were drawn to 2 large aluminium skiffs and a couple of huge trucks to pull them. Already this was looking like a professional operation and so once again my enthusiasm began to build. Ezzard was away guiding for the afternoon so our first point of call was to a flat just 10 minutes up the road. Ezzards trainee guide, Colin, showed us around. A huge man, he turned out to be a gentle giant willing to help anyone and keen to see his clients catch fish. The flat proved tough that afternoon, for James and I; were we ever going to catch a Bonefish?
7.00am seemed to take an eternity to arrive but at last it was here. I stepped out armed with the very latest from Greys in the form of Platinum XD saltwater rods in weights 7, 8 & 9. Sporting great looks and lifetime guaranteed blanks it crossed my mind that two of these rods could be purchased for less than the price of one rod marketed by various other companies. So how would they perform against such stiff competition? I was about to find out as Colin was polling us quietly onto a mangrove flat and judging by the excited squeals from James just in front of us, there were plenty of Bonefish on offer. Peeling line from the reel, I ensured that there were no snags for it to be caught on should I hook up. In a flash my chance came, a pod of fish, a dozen strong and fast. This was going to need a swift, accurate cast as when Bonefish are moving quickly I find you rarely get a second chance. The new Greys rod was more than up to the task, effortlessly peeling the line from the water before delivering it with a tight loop towards the target. They posses a fast action ideal for casting heavy flies quickly, in fact I was impressed by the whole feel of this rod and now hopefully, for the first time, I was about to see one locked in battle.
It was to be! The group neared my shrimp pattern, cast as a trap and ready for their approach. A quick flick of the line and the artificial came to life causing one of the fish to split from the pack and seize the fly, FISH ON! An exhilarating 10 seconds later my fluorescent backing was fast disappearing towards the mangroves and then, that sickening feeling as everything falls slack. My first and last Bonefish had been hooked seven years ago on Anne's beach in Islamorada, Florida, lost just a few feet from my over eager palm. Now I was left feeling numb all over, once more, the Bonefish had beaten me. All the commotion and a lost fish on James skiff meant that this was another chance gone, would I ever land a Bone?
A few hours later we are on a new flat, the sun beating down and Henry dribbling over the perfect blue skies. We are now wading, my fair skin protected by Greys trousers and the obligatory baseball cap assisting me with fish spotting. The shoals were there, shouts echoing from James as he hooked up; finally I could hear Henry getting very overexcited at the scenes before his lens. Everyone was happy, except me! How could I possibly be feeling down with temperatures in the mid 20s and a heavenly Bonefish flat before me? That's the thing with fishing; it does funny things to you. All I could think about was the loss of my Florida Bonefish; it was as if it was haunting me!
Then, suddenly, as if by magic, the angling instinct that had been eluding me kicked in. Recalling Chico Fernandez advice in his book "Fly-Fishing for Bonefish" I moved towards a deep channel jutting out from our flat, a favoured haunt of Bonefish to hide in while they wait for safe conditions to feed on the surrounding shallow areas during low tide (thus helping them evade shark attack). The sight before me will remain indelibly etched on my mind; there was a massive pod of fish calmly making their way through the channel, pausing here and there to pick off various helpless morsels. Desperate for a fish, I did not think about singling out a particularly large specimen but just cast at the nearest fish. Cruising confidently I was certain this fish would take and so it proved, as the apparition like outline that earns the species nickname, "ghost of the flats", accelerated forward to snap up my artificial. Stripping the line home for a good hook hold resulted in pandemonium as the shoal spooked, careering off for the depths, leaving my fish to fight it out against the Platinum XD and me. The fighting ability of the Bonefish has been well documented, but I make no apology for stating the fact that there are very few species that can match up to the speed and agility of these fish. Barely 4lbs, the angry creature at the end of my line fired up its mercury coloured livery and did everything in its power to become another Bonefish to add to my lost list! Thankfully it proved to be third time lucky as Henry arrived just in time to capture my Cheshire cat grin and my first ever Bonefish. It had been a very long wait, but finally this particular "ghost of the flats" had banished my nightmares forever.
For Bonefish destinations all over the world try Peter McLeod on: peter@aardvarkmcleod.com
Tel: +44 (0)1980 847389 Web Site: www.aardvarkmcleod.com
For more images of our trip, please check out Henry Gilbeys web site www.henry-gilbey.co.uk
Hosted Bonefish trips with Nick Hart to Los Roques available in 2010 through Aardvark McLeod ... See www.hartflyfishing.blogspot.com for the very latest trip report and future trip details
