For the first few days of our trip Tom, his younger brother Jason, and I flew to Key Largo, Florida to fish for Bonefish.

Florida was a hilariously comical debacle. Our guide was a chain smoker, meat fisherman who recommended (after I asked) that I use a two-foot long leader to catch Bonefish. This was enough information for me to realize that he didn’t know anything about fly-fishing for Bones (Bonefish leaders range from about 10-16’ long).

If that wasn’t enough, a cold front came through bringing extremely high winds- making fishing for Bonefish almost impossible. Instead we enjoyed each other’s company, caught a few Barracuda and Shark, ate the best food, and sat in the hotel Jacuzzi.

By the time we returned to Georgia, after just barely making our flights, the three of us had more inside jokes than a click of bestest friends from high school. Tom and Jason’s father, Tom Sr., picked us up in Atlanta and drove us an hour and a half to their cabin where the number of fish caught quickly met the number of inside jokes we now had.

March in Georgia, just a few weeks before the Master’s Golf tournament, is perfect. It is cold at night but 75-90 degrees during the day. The warm weather heats up the water which makes the bass come out of their hibernation and restores their aggressive tendencies that so many of us love.

Tom Sr’s property is a half-mile off the main road, in the woods, with a 2-acre pond in the middle of it. The cabin has a porch (with rocky chair), a wooden table, a kitchen, bathroom, running water, guest bedroom, mounted Deer, and three mounted Largemouth Bass; all over 8lbs and one legendary bass, caught by Tom when he was 10, that weighed just over 13lbs.

After I received a fifteen minute tour of the cabin and a five minute story about the legendary 13lb bass, which was caught in their pond, the three of us went fishing (Tom Sr doesn’t fish much, his new passion is cooking).

Jason screwed a trolling motor onto a 12-foot long metal flat-bottom boat while Tom and I fix the rods- five spin and two fly rods. After some squabbling between the brothers, Jason reluctantly reclined to the rear of the boat while Jason and I pushed the craft into the pond.

The pond, like all good Georgia bass pond, is murky enough so that ‘you couldn’t see the bottom of a bucket’ (if a bucket was placed full of the pond’s water). I learned this “bucket rule” and other essential Pond maintenance tips from Tom Sr during my two-week stay with the family. The lack of clarity, which is regulated by fertilizer dumped into the water, helps keep the pond full of large bass- and not of many small ones. Before my trip to Georgia, I always thought a pond was just a pond and a bass was just something that lived in it, but in Georgia, this is not the case. In Georgia, bass fishing is like gardening; the more you take care of your pond the bigger the bass grow.

On the pond, we slowly worked our way around the perimeter-casting worms, salamanders, and flies at the banks. I enjoyed the challenge of ducking my fly under branches or over fallen trees so that it landed, as a frog might, just off the bank of the pond. I used black and blue popper, about the size of a quarter that imitated a frog. The key to fishing a popper for bass is creating the right plopping noise. To do this, I applied lots of gink to the entire body of the fly- making sure to warm the gink in my fingers and then rubbing it in the deer hair. Then, when I cast it near the bank I let the fly plop onto the water and just sit for a couple of seconds- this is when I will usually get the most strikes. If I don’t, I create another plopping noise by stripping in with a rate that grows exponentially in speed. The popper should duck under the water for a second, blowing bubbles and making a distinctive blop sound. This drive bass crazy.

I fly fished exclusively for the rest of the day- catching two decent sized bass on a fly. We worked our way around the entire pond before Tom Sr blew his factory like whistle to let us know that dinner was served.

As I found out that night, this trip was as much about eating as it was fishing. Tom Sr prepared us filet, grits, and twice baked potatoes for dinner. It was excellent. And my first true grits experience (the trip would be filled with many first eating experiences). After I ate two and a half filets, two potatoes, and lots of grits, Tom and I set up our tying vices and started tying poppers for tomorrow’s fishing.

After tying on a weed guard, then applying some legs, I spun deer hair over and over, packing the fly full of body. After I did my best stylist impression and clipped the hair down to a thick body (pictures in the photo section of this fly). Two flies took about 45 minutes, at which time Jason came back from gathering wood on the ATV and informed us that it was bon fire time.

Person X, his Brother J (I don’t want to name names, for their protection), and I found the perfect secret spot for Bonefishing. It is amazing. There is flats everywhere, pictures of big Bonefish, and plenty of nice, knowledgable guides. Where is it? Please tell you now? It is a little placed called Key Largo, FL along the Florida Keys.

It is such a special fishery that you don’t even need a guide. If you go there, just check out one of the local fly shops and they will put you one of the many great beaches. Beaches like Anne’s Beach, where you won’t find Bonefish but you will find over-weight vacationers, treasure hunters with metal detectors, and polluted waters. If this is what you’re looking for, check out the public campground, which is MM 68. The campground for three people costs $6.50, which is exactly 2.1777777777 dollars a person. Locals send all the tourist fisherman here who don’t want to pay for a guide- so good luck catching one of these fish.

Remember, Bonefish don’t live in all tropical waters, just tropical waters that have lots of guides, fly shops, and Waffle Houses nearby. Islands that don’t have those delicious Grand Slam breakfast which includes a waffle, two eggs, bacon, your choice of toast and a side DO NOT HOLD BONEFISH. Bonefish can not survive, much like myself, without the Waffle House.

Today I was expected to leave the island but, because of the disorganization of one tiny island airline, I had to stay on the island (note: when on tiny islands and dealing with small airports always call ahead and check- a mistake I made). After sitting in the airport for five hours I had to say goodbye to my brother (who was on another flight), go back and pick up my rental car, and re-check into the hotel. There was was only one thing to do now but go fishing!

That evening I kayaked over to the flats. There, I fished by myself until 6:30 PM. I saw lots of fish in both the small and large flats but couldn’t hook up. At one point, feeling a bit overfished, I looked up at the sky and wondered, what am I doing? But quickly snapped out of it with another thought; I had 30 minutes left of fishing, and I was going to make this terrible morning of mishaps worthwhile.

Just as the sun ducked under the nearby hills the fish really started becoming active. I was positioned at the bottom of a sand bar wall that protruded 40 yards out from where I was standing. Just in front of me was a channel bridging the bay side flats to the ocean side. And throughout tonight I noticed that fish cruised along the bay side of the flats, hit the wall, and then took a sharp right turn towards the channel and into the ocean side.

At 6:35PM I noticed a wake from three Bonefish migrating towards the ocean side. They moved right for me with a heavy pace. I knelt down, as I had so many times on this trip, and started casting. And as they got to the flat divider- the shallowest part that separates the ocean and bay sides- I stripped a Crazy Charlie right in front of the lead fish. Wham! The fish slammed it and took off immediately. It pulled line out so quickly that the line burned my index finger. And the fish didn’t stop there; it didn’t stop until I had over 200 yards of backing out, the fartherst any fish had taken before. Then it slowed and made a stand.

As I held on to the rod I could feel the pulse of the fish. I could feel my rod throb to the fish’s heart. I looked around at the closing sunset, the hills, the waves and few sailboats, and the mangrove islands- as if to see if anyone else was watching. I felt the water in my toes, around my flip-flops. I heard nothing. But I sensed the fish struggling.

I fought that fish for fifteen minutes until finally, after it made one last run, I was able to bring it into shore. It was a massive fish. I measured it to be 27 inches long with a thick back (I estimate it, based on length and girth and according to Chico’s scale from Fly-Fishing for Bonefish, to be a 7-8 lb fish). Definitely the biggest fish of the trip (the picture doesn’t do it justice, but it is the one with the dark blue and black background).

Carefully placing on the camera on my backpack I used my self-time to take some pictures. I revived the fish, took a good look at it, and watched it swim away. Then I started making my way back to the kayak. It was late, around 7 o’clock but luckily the it was a full moon and that helped guide me back across the canal, through the woods, and back to my car (I did, however, have a headlamp). After all this, I was ready to go home. Next time I come back I will have two goals: a 10lber and a Permit.

For the next two days I concentrated on filming. If you haven’t yet checked out the video from our trip you should, it is the first video on the video page. It has some awesome footage of my brother making perfect casts to a tailing Bonefish. Unfortunately, my brother didn’t hook into any fish and upon further review it is probably due to not staying out late enough- the best time for catching fish is from 615-7 PM. Because we were kayaking across the canal we often left early, around 6:30 so that we had some light on the trip home (it isn’t awesome kayaking in the dark in the ocean, believe me, I did it several times). If we had chosen to stay a bit longer, maybe even 10-15 minutes longer, I think he would have caught a fish. Sometimes, however, it is better to not catch one, then you have that much more desire to come back down.

After fishing almost a full week for Bonefish, some 13-hour days, I thought it might be easy letting my brother cast to all the Bonefish, but it wasn’t. Its not that I minded taking some time off from fishing, and shooting some video, but I still wanted to fish.

That morning Derek and I fished the main land flats but didn’t hook into anything. We did, however, see eight Bonefish. At 930AM, while walking back towards Derek I noticed a large black flash 100 yards out.

“Permit, I just saw a Permit!” I said, while running back towards my brother, dropping my pack, and opening up my leader pocket. Derek started frantically switching his leader from Bonefish to Permit as I kept look out for another sign of the fish. But, after five minutes of staring off into the deeper flat section I didn’t see a fin- which was odd because Permit, when active, usually fin every few seconds. I apologized for my mistake as we sat back down.

Five minutes later I saw it again, but this time, I was sure of it.

“Permit, there, 100 yards off, just in the middle of the deeper flats, maybe in 3 to 4 feet of water, just inside the coral wall. See it? Straight out at 12 o’clock.”

Then the distinctive Permit fin popped up again, wiggled, and went back down. We both quickly got up and entered the water. We had a good 100 yards to wade on very loud, crackling coral and it would take some time.

After five minutes of methodical wading we were almost in casting range when the fish sensed our presence and slowly swam out to sea.

“Well, that was your shot at a Permit,” I said, “but aren’t they amazing to see?”

(I got a great clip of the Permit finning and will have it posted online soon. Check out the Video Page for clips of my brother fishing for Bonefish). At least we were starting to see some Permit and I was glad that Derek got to see one. Hopefully tomorrow this fish will show up again.

That afternoon, after much debate, Derek and I pirated a kayak, crossed the canal with it, to fish the flats shown to me by Kyle (which were only accessible by boat).

“Derek, you have to be three times stealthier than you are being right now. Seriously, these fish can hear us.” I told him, as he and I made our way to the head of the flats where I usually saw fish.

“There, see them? Two, right there, just on the edge of the sand bar, in maybe 4 inches of water,” I said, pointing at two nice sized fish working, as they so often did in this spot, just along dry land and in almost impossibly shallow water.

Derek started walking towards them, sloppily stomping his feet on the coral and sand. Just as he got within range the fish splashed- a sign that they were spooked and pissed off- as they both disappeared into deep water.

“Well, I guess I had to learn that the hard way,” Derek said as he retreated back to the middle of the sandbar.

At about 6 o’clock instead of just letting my brother have most of the fish I started fishing more heavily. Crouching down, we positioned ourselves 25 feet apart up wind from the channel and bay area. After an hour of parading around the flats the fish had become weary and instead of showing up along the shallow edges of the sandbar they were now finning and making wakes in the middle, just out of reach of our casting.

One fish in particular was almost taunting us with its distance. It kept on working back and forth just out of reach of our casts. I made several long casts to it but it was facing away from me and therefore didn’t notice my fly. Finally, after several passes, two fins rose out of the water with the larger one nearer to me, a sign that the fish was facing me. This was my chance. I stood up, because it was far enough away not to notice me, and started double hauling (a technique usually done when making longer casts). The wind, which was directly at my back, pushed the fly further through the air until it landed a foot and a half in front of the fish, which was slowly working its way towards me.

Because it was deeper water of 1-2 feet I waited a second to let the fish come closer then started a steady strip. Almost immediately the fish turned on the fly, fluttering up water as it chased- a sign of a persuing Bonefish that I had become accustomed to. It was important, now that the fish had turned on it, to keep my strips steady. Strip, strip, and then, my line went taught (if you are using a shrimp or fish pattern, such as a Crazy Charlie or Clouser, I found that short, steady, continuous strips worked very well. But make sure to keep stripping when the fish is onto it. ). I was on!

The fish pulled out over 200 yards of line, straight into my white colored backing (which is over 150 yards of line). My brother turned to me and told me I was a bastard in a joking sort of way. He wasn’t too happy that I caught another Bonefish. The fight was impressive, as usual, and after ten minutes I successfully brought a 5-6lbs Bonefish into shore where my brother took several pictures (these pictures are the one that came out somewhat normal, of me holding a fish, posted on the Photo Page). It was not the longest fish but had broad shoulders and was built like a bullet.

I felt badly for catching a fish infront of my brother but couldn’t help it. So far I had caught a Bonefish each day I was on the island, a four-day streak that I hoped would continue. We fished until dark, around 630, then made our way back to the mainland.

“Ahhh, it’s an earthquake!” Kyle said while shaking the couch, “it’s time to get up.” I checked my watch, 6:30 AM, I had slept in.

By the time I hit the water it was 7:30 AM and I wasn’t sure if it was too late to even fish the Bonefish flats but I went to check anyways.

When I arrived I started walking through the water, instead of around it and onto the beach. This technique, one that Kyle has taught me, is walking into the path of traveling Bonefish (it works well if you know the general path of the Bonefish and don’t plan on fishing the area much longer, because walking through it also usually ruins the spot for a couple of hours). I chose this tactic, instead of my old one, because I only had about 45 minutes left of good Bonefishing.

As I passed the deeper section of the flats and started walking in ankle deep water, I saw a tailing Bonefish, near the beach, in very shallow water and methodically working its way towards me. It was twice the distance of my casting range so I decided to keep still, hold my position, and wait for it to come. A minute went by as I watched the fish slowly meander its way into my range. Crouching down to shrink my silhouette, I tried to stay calm. As it came closer, I started casting.

As the fish got within casting range its back protruded almost entirely out of water as it hit a small grassy hill of the flats. Because of the extremely shallow water, I placed my Clouser fly 6 inches from its face and started stripping immediately- to keep the fly from catching the grass.

(Fishing Note: As I’ve commented on before, depth has a lot to do with how close I placed my fly from the fish. With shallow water, such as this situation, it is important to plop it pretty close, maybe 6-8” from its face, so that it will see the fly almost immediately. In sandy bottom flats this is not always the case, as you can leave the fly on the bottom without tangling, but in coral and grass bottom flats, such as this one, the fly will most likely get stuck on the bottom if you stop stripping. On sandy bottoms, cast the fly earlier and let it sit on the bottom until the fish comes closer, than start stripping.)

Twenty feet away I watched this fish, in no more than 4 inches of water, chase my fly down and engulf it. It was one of the prettiest hook settings I have ever witnessed. The fish, after inhaling the fly and making a mighty turn, paused for a good three seconds- something that Kyle said his fish did for five seconds the night before- so I took the time to look down at my line, making sure it wasn’t caught on something. This is a technique that Kyle had told me he does just last night. I was impressed that I had already used it.

I took my time battling this fish so that I could finally get a good picture. After watching it parade around the flats, pulling out line, crossing over the sand, and finally giving up, I held it in my hands. Then, with my camera on a 10 second timer, I took several pictures of it. You can check out the pictures in the photo section, they are the ones that appear crooked and pretty far away. Nevertheless, it was a full sized gorgeous Bonefish.

When I got back for lunch, after looking for some more Permit but seeing none, I showed Kyle my pictures. I was starting to get worried that he might not believe I was catching so many fish- since I had hooked into three and still had no proof. But finally, after my fourth fish I had a nice picture. I felt satisfied with my trip already, and I still had several days to go. My new goal was simple: a Permit and a 10lbs Bonefish.

That night I fished the flats without Kyle. An older gentleman was out on the flats fishing and he could not even cast. I gave him some flies- for he had only one that was a heavy weighted Clouser- and gave him some tips. Then, after he walked back down the flats I watched as Bonefish cruised around him without even an attempt by this guy. Frustrated, I made way down his way to help him out and point out all the missed fish. An hour later he hooked into his first fish, but it broke off, making his night. I hooked into a fish that was so big it just kept on swimming, for maybe 4 seconds, with my fly in its mouth, and then as I gave it a tug, the fish became alarmed and took a run. Half way through the line went slack and I lost the fish. That could have been my 10 lbs fish, but who knows.

Again, I was on the water at sun up. Kyle’s house is half a mile from the beach so it was easy to get there early in the morning. Also, I prepared everything the night before: my rod, reel, leader, flies, backpack, lunch, and clothes were all ready so that I didn’t have to mess around in the morning.

Today I struggled hooking into any Bonefish and at 9 o’clock, when the sun was officially up, I moved over to the Permit flats, where I sat and waited. I sat and waited from 9-2 and didn’t see a single fish. It was cloudy, raining, and wet as I sat there alone, on the beach, eating Pop Tarts and Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches. And I didn’t see any fish.

Luckily, at around 3, the wind died down so Kyle and I went across the canal on his boat to the Bonefish flats. There, we fished the first flats for an hour.

It was amazing to watch Kyle fish. He could squat, like a Russian leg dance squat, for an hour without getting tired or sore. After trying it once, I resorted to leaning on one knees. We both remained still, waiting for fish to arrive in their usual spots. But the fish in this shallow, bay like flat are almost impossible to catch. We made some casts to a couple, Kyle spooking two large ones, but didn’t have any luck. At 5 PM we headed over to the Big flats.

Tonight, and through most of the week, the tide was low in the evening, and the sand bar was almost dry, with only several sections covered by water. These small canals between the ocean and bay side of the flats were heavily concentrated with Bonefish. So Kyle and I positioned ourselves just down from these inlets.

The fish seemed to be migrating along the sand bar on the shallow, calm side of the flats. But their fins and wakes only appeared in areas that suddenly became shallower or had abrupt turns. I positioned myself just below a curve in the sandbar, just right of a shallow area where I had seen several fish cruising by before. Every five to ten minutes a wake, nervous water, or even fins would appear in this one shallower spot. Then, I would make a cast to the fish but, because the water was so shallow, my fly often sank too quickly or was too far away from the moving Bonefish.

After a couple failed attempts, I decided to change my strategy. I need to land my fly closer to the fish’s face- almost right on top of them- instead of leading them by the traditional 1-2 feet. This technique spooked more fish but it also gave me a better chance of catching one.

Five minutes went by before a school of two fish appeared just ahead and moving towards me, to my right, at cruising speed- as the other fish had been doing before. I started casting, with my eyes still glued to the fish. They were not far off, maybe 20 ft, and incoming. I let my fly drop just in front of their face, so close that I was sure they would spook. The fly landed, just between the two fish, maybe 6 inches from their heads, and I immediately took one quick strip.

I had on a crazy Charlie fly. It imitates a shrimp and I put it on because it sunk slower than a Clouser and was a bit smaller, making a lighter plopping noise.

After one little strip the water pumped up. It was so quick that I thought maybe I had fowl hooked in the fish (when you accidentally snag a fish with your fly on their body and not in their mouth). The fish ignited in energy, turned its body, this time it paused, then started running.

After a decent fight, and as I brought the fish in 10 feet from me, I could see that it was a nice fish, maybe 5 lbs. I turned and looked down the long flat at Kyle, whom was half a mile away kneeling, casting to fish. I thought about yelling down to him so that he could come up and take a picture but he looked busy. I thought better of it. So I started making my way down, with the fish in tow, towards Kyle to get my first picture with a Bonefish. About half way there, however, the fish broke free. Again, I wasn’t that upset. I hooked into a fish, I held on through its fight, and I got to see it. It would have been nice, especially with the low sunlight, to get a picture but I guess I have to catch another one.

I continued to fish to lots of migrating Bonefish. Later in the evening, around 6:30, Kyle hooked into a nice fish. At this point we were much closer so I made my way down for some pictures. He was hooting in excitement and asked if I had caught one. I told him I had, awhile back, and he was disappointed that I didn’t get him for a picture. I got out my camera and took a couple pictures of his 6-7 lbs fish. It was a beauty.

We got back in the boat and made our way back over the canal.

“Brett, what a day of fishing!” He said, and I, living the southern life, simply agreed.

“You know what Brett”, he said, “I’m glad I picked you up that day. You’re alright”. I felt honored that Kyle, someone who was so kind and genuine a person, would say something to like that to me. When we got back to the house we made spaghetti and talked about our catches, the fish we saw, and the fish we missed. It was a great night of fishing and I decided that maybe, tomorrow, I would sleep in just a little.

After a late night the night before, I fished terribly this morning, almost breaking my rod, reel, and arm by slipping off a rock. Fortunately the reel hit the rock, instead of the fragile rod, nicking it and I came out unscathed. The incident made me stop for a second and rest- I was upset for not getting better sleep and this accident was certainly caused by it.

The rest of the morning I spent not catching fish.

At three-thirty I called Kyle, the guide who I fished with yesterday, but he didn’t want to fish in such windy weather. That day, and even parts of yesterday, the winds had started up from the east, producing large waves on the flats and almost impossible conditions. I, however, had to try.

Kayaking across the canal in 3-5 foot swells I arrived at the Bonefish flats that we fished the day before. The wind blew on my back, rapidly whipping the dry fit clothing against my body, causing a high tempo beat. This didn’t, however, deter the Bonefish from showing up. In fact, it seemed like they were more abundant than yesterday, the only problem was that my first three attempts at fish resulted in wind tangles and knots.

After several failed attempts at casting for fish I turned my positioning so that if a fish showed up the wind would be at my back instead of my side, and would therefore help push my cast forward. It was the only chance I had at catching a fish in such conditions.

After an hour the fish started becoming weary of me, moving out past the shallow bar that I kneeled on and into the middle of the 1-2 feet deep flat area. They were still very active but had moved almost out of casting range. Just then, I noticed a pair of Bonefish working, maybe 75 feet away, along the far edge of the flats, next to the mangrove island. I checked my watch. It was almost 5:15 PM, and I had previously decided to return at 5:30, not wanting to kayak back into the wind and against the swells at dark. I had to go for the fish, and now.

I started walking in the water, something I try not to do if possible, but had to in order to get closer to the two fish. After only a couple of steps a large Bonefish spooked not ten feet from me, startling me. But I didn’t care about that fish, the two fish near the mangroves were my target; it was all or nothing for today (an ideology that can sometimes be very effective when Bonefishing. Sometimes it is important to just go for them, and not, fish to not spook them.)

I started casting- battling the wind with my back cast and shooting it out with my forward. Tilting the cast upward, I shot a long, 40 foot cast up into the wind and let it carry out towards the fish. The fly, luckily, landed only 3 feet from the two Bonefish (in deeper water, such as this, Bonefish have a larger range of vision and you can place a fly farther from their head. As opposed to shallow, 3-4 inch water, they are only looking 6-10” infront of their face, and the fly has to land closer).

I started striping immediately. Strip, strip, strip, then I saw a little flutter of water behind my fly. Could it be a chasing Bonefish? Keep stripping. Keep it steady. Strip, strip. Don’t stop. Then wham! A Bonefish hit my fly, stopping my line, rod, and hand. It turned and shot out away from me with such power, it felt like a brick moving with an engine was attached to my rod.

The wind kept whipping at my back as I chased this Bone around the mangrove island. I was up to my knees in water when the fish slowed down, finishing its initially run. I had it! But as I reeled in line it suddenly dropped, the tension gone, and the fish lost. I yelled out but there was no one around and the wind quickly swollowed up my frustration. After reeling in all the line- almost 100 yards of line and backing- I checked the leader, which, after review had snapped almost in half- probably due to a cut or knot made before the fight (note: always check your leaders every 15-20 minutes. If you have any knots or kinks retie it, it is worth it). But I was impressed that I even hooked into a fish in this spot, with such high winds, and by myself (we- my brother, me, and kyle- only hooked into two fish in that difficult fishing spot the entire week- both by me).

It was 5:30 and the wind didn’t seem to be dying down at all. So I got back into the kayak and made my way across the canal. My day was done. I had hooked into a Bonefish and it was a good day.

By the time light started curling its way over the ocean horizon I was already standing, fully rigged, on the beach looking out onto the Bonefish flats. And within ten minutes of sun-up I saw my first Bonefish, two small fins slowly cruising on the end of the flats out into the deeper water. I decided, regretfully, not to try for this fish because it was almost off the flats and I wanted to keep the water undesturbed.

The Bonefish flat has a fine sandy beach that faces the soccer field sized shallow flats. As I sit positioned on the beach, on my right, where fish sometimes enter, small waves cross and break onto a rocky shoreline, and in front of me the water is calm, 3-6 inches deep, with a grassy, coral, and sandy bottom. The shallow water and fragil bottom of these flats- and most others on this island- makes sneaking up on the fish very difficult, and one of my major challenges for catching Bonefish.

The second fish didn’t show up until around 730, this time directly in front of me, just off the sandy beach. I had been sitting on the beach, intensely looking out onto the flats the entire morning and finally a little fin popped up only 20 feet from me. I quietly picked up my rod, pulled out line, and plopped my clouser fly two feet short of where I saw the fin last.

The fly landed in 4 inches of water, so I started stripping immediately- even though the fly was only 15 feet from shore- so that the hook didn’t get caught in the grass. Almost immediately a wake appeared behind the fly, where I last saw the Bonefish, and torpedoed towards my fly, not stopping until it engulfed it. My line stopped, paused, and then shot from my hands.

As the fish turned, shooting out on its initially vigorous run, the entire area- maybe 20 feet in diameter- of water around the fish rose up in an explosion of activity. Apparently, unbeknown to me, a large school of Bonefish was sitting not 20 feet away.

The Bonefish took a long initial run, a characteristic of most Bonefish, straight into my backing (the line behind my casting line, usually 50yards – 250yards). I watched, holding onto a bent rod, as the Bonefish darted all over the flats trying to unhook itself from my fly. After a good eight-minute fight I had the fish tired and almost on shore. It was a good sized fish, much larger than my first (in Virgin Gorda) but by no means huge. I estimate that is was somewhere around 4 pounds. My camera wasn’t handy and there was no one around to take the picture, so I didn’t have any plan for the fish. I pulled on him one last time, to try and get him on shore without touching him, and the fly snapped out of his mouth.

Regardless of not getting picture, I was so satified by hooking into a Bone, and hooking into it with a fly I tied myself (I recently started tying and only brought flies I tied myself on this trip). I sat back down and took a second to rejoice. I had finally landed a Bonefish in Puerto Rico.

At around 830, I met up with Jay, another fisherman I randomly bumped into on the island, and we went over to hunt for Permit. Yesterday, he had seen three Permit on the Permit flats but today, because of the lower water levels, we didn’t see any. Mostly we just sat and talked about life. Apparently he had some issues to resolve back home and needed to verbalize his problems, and I was the only one around to verbalize them to. We did not see any Permit and I’m not sure that we solved any life problems.

While walking down the dirt road to the Permit flats, my girlfriend, wearing her bikini and sandals, and me, in my dry fit clothes and fly rod, were stopped by a red Tacoma truck.

“Well hello there, I just saw someone with a fly rod and I had to stop and say hello,” a middle aged gentleman- I guessed at around 35 years old- wearing a visor said with a thick southern accent. We talked for a bit then jumped into his truck for a ride down to the beach. Kyle, a fly-fishing guide who just started working on the island, was house sitting for a friend and lived just up the hill from the Bonefish flats. We exchanged some background information about ourselves and, after he dropped us off, he told me to call him tomorrow to join him for some fishing.

The next day, after I dropped Whitney off at the airport, I met up with Kyle at his friend’s house- a beautiful one-bedroom house that sat on top of the hill. From there, Kyle and I drove to his flats boat and rode it across the half mile canal to the flats he fished regularly- an area that I had not previously fished because it is only accessible by boat.

On the way over we talked a bit about our fishing experiences but we were both excited to fish and both of the same mentality- fish first, talk later. This wasn’t a guided trip, so when we stopped at the flats we both rigged up and walked as equals down the long shore of the flats.

Unfortunately, we didn’t see much Bonefish activity but on the way back Kyle saw the fins of a Permit sticking out of the surf. He made a couple of casts to it with his Borski slider fly (a Bonefish fly that looks like a Muddler Minnor Fly or a Mullet Fish) and Bonefish leader. The Permit, a fish not easily fooled, reluctantly swam away. At around five we hopped back into the boat, making our way over to the second, longer flats.

A small, one-acre, mangrove island separates the two flats we fished. The first flat, which we fished from 4-5 PM, pointed east. On the north side the wind pushed the ocean swells into a garden of coral rocks and sand. The waves, however, slowly dissolved into tiny ripples as they thinned out onto the shallow flats that separated the two bodies of water and served as a place for us to walk. The sandy section that sat in the middle was above sea level at low tide and approximately 150 yards long. On the south side- opposite the ocean side- the water looked lake calm. The Bonefish frequently swam along the curved shoreline of the shallow grass, sticking their fins out of the water sometimes only inches away from the dry flats area of which we walked. To fish this spot, we crept along the dry flat area that separated the two bodies of water, in search of nervous water, dark shadows, or fins sticking out (see the new video to get a better idea).

The second flat sat on the opposite side of the mangroves just north of the first flats. This flat (“The Big Flat”) faced North, stretching a mile long with ocean waves on one side and a flat, bay like area, on the other. Kyle and I, upon docking the boat in the middle of the flats, split up, slowly working our way down the shallow divider. Over the course of the week, we often saw Bonefish cruising along the shallow waves or making wakes on the Bay side flats. Later in the week, when it was low tide and a new moon, the Bonefish concentrated around the few spots that water bridged over the flats. This strong low tide produced some unbelievable fishing.

This night, Kyle and I pulled his flats boat up in the middle of the second flats and immediately separated. Around 630, I saw two sets of fins that were so far apart I thought they might be Tarpon (they were, however, huge Bonefish). I shuffled over to where I last saw them but they disappeared into the surf. It was a rough night for Bonefish, and would be our worse of the trip, but it was great getting out to a new fishing area.

On our way back Kyle invited me for Pasta and spaghetti- a true bachelor meal- and said I could crash on the couch, if I liked. I, not having another place to stay, gladly accepted. We spent the rest of the night talking about fishing. He had been guiding for the past 10 years in Atlanta, AriverRunsThroughAtlanta.com, in Wyoming, and just recently in Puerto Rico. He came from a small town outside of Atlanta, a town of around 3,000 people, and was a positive stereotype of southern hospitality. After hanging out with him for a week, Kyle is one of the nicest people I have ever met, and is, for lack of a better term, the salt of the earth.

After a full day of traveling, I spent the first two days in Puerto Rico with my girlfriend recuperating. My girlfriend, to her credit, was a trooper. She hiked over rocks, through woods, and down dirt roads to reach the Permit flat, where she could sun bath and I could wait for fish.

On the beach we watched for Permit fins while filling out crosswords from a New York Times Crossword book. How did I tolerate such mild fishing conditions? Because I knew the rest of the trip- a full 9 days after my girlfriend Whitney left- would be enough fishing.

But after a day of lying out on the beach I became restless. After negotiating with Whitney my allotted time for fishing, and she was extremely flexible and understand, I took a walk.

A rocky point ends the long, straight beach. The point- sticking out 25 yards- blocks the oceanic winds and swells from hitting the western side of the beach. The coral, which surrounds all the beaches usually around 50 yards out, widens around the point. These two shifts in structure produce a shallow, 3-4 inch deep flat where Bonefish like to feed. Especially at dusk and dawn when the wind dies down and Bonefish become more mobile, I often see tails traveling from the mangroves that grow around the bay inlet, up onto the flats, and eventually- if I don’t hook into them- out into the deeper water.

As I circumvented the point, I noticed a dark flash that could never be mistaken for anything but- a Permit. It’s tail stuck out so clearly and its body, in the clear Caribbean water, was darker than the sandy bottom. The large Permit- maybe 25-30lbs- was digging for food only 15 yards from where I stood. It was a beautiful sight that I didn’t savor, for I had to switch my entire rig from Bonefish leader and fly to Permit.

Dropping my pack I quickly started changing the rig; cut the fly, took off the leader, wrapped up the leader, put on a heavier leader, tied on some 20lbs tippet, and tied on a Merkin Crab pattern (a tip: when changing rigs while a fish is active or insight like this, try to not look up at all until finished rigging. This will decrease the time it takes to rig substantially and limit tangles and mistakes.) After checking my knots, I looked up to see that the Permit, luckily, had only worked 50 yards away, along the coral wall. I still had a chance.

I started creeping towards the Permit as I entered the water. It was difficult wading because the noise from the small dried coral kept cracking under my boots. I decided, unfortunately, to take the direct route and flank the fish. I stalked it for 20 minutes and had some good casts at it but didn’t get a look or a strike. The fish confidently swam out, past the reef, and into the ocean.

Looking back on my tactics, I should have cut around the fish, and attacked it from the front or side (something that is critical in hunting and a technique I need to take more often, when possible, to fishing). What I failed to acknowledge was the direction the fish was swimming; it was traveling away from me, left to right along the beach. So flanking it only got me a cast at its back- a cast this is more likely to spook the fish or land behind it.

Regardless of my failed tactics, I was pretty excited to see a Permit and hopeful at my chances of hooking into one this trip. Unfortunately, the weather and tides would change dramatically and it would be a slow trip for Permit.

I de-rigged and continued onto the Bonefish flats where, after wading through the entire flat, I spooked only one large Bonefish that was sun bathing near shore. I checked my watch- gone an hour and a half- time to return to my girlfriend for more crosswords. The fishing will have to wait.

Before I left for my second trip to Puerto Rico I took two full days to tie all the flies I needed. I filled a small box with Bonefish flies- all 4/0 and 6/0 hooks- with Crazy Charlies, Shrimp Scampys, Clousers, and Gotcha’s. If I had known that most of the Bonefish were big, I would have tied more Clousers and maybe some Borski sliders, and lots more flies in size 2/0 hooks. I also bought 8 Bonefish leaders at 10 ft, 10lbs with tippet in 10 and 12lbs (most of the time I used a 14 ft leader for Bonefish and found this long length highly effective). For Permit, I purchased a bunch of crab patterns and bought three 25lbs leaders with 22lbs tippet. I brought my 9 wt rod with floating, warm weather line, my fanny pack full, backpack, headlamp, water bottle, etc. Here is a list, in case you might be going on a Bonefishing trip:

Bonefish Trip Packing:

• Wallet/money
• Passport/id
• Rod 9 (or 8 or both) (I would recommend bringing 2, in case something happens)
• Reel 9 (8)- lots of backing (I have 2 different color backing, it helps me know how far the fish is, and when I am gaining line)
• Extra line 9, 8
• Fanny pack:
• Flies
• Size 2/0, 4/0, 6/0
• Go with whatever you are confident with: crazy charlies and clousers worked for me.
• Tippet
• 10, 12lbs
• Tools
• Clippers
• Leaders
• bonefish
• Boots x 1
• Booties
• orthodox
• Dry fit clothes (fishing clothes)
• Shirt, pants, bandana,hat
• Sun screen
• Lip and regular
• Bug spray
• Backpack
• Toiletries
• Lotion, toothbrush, contact case (mirror device), toilet paper
• Water container (nalegene bottle)/pack
• Camera
• Charger
• Dry bag
• Knife
• Head lamp
• batteries
• INFORMATION
• Map, places to fish, places to camp/stay, directions
• Regular clothes (where down there)
• Pants, tshirt, long sleeve, flip flops
• Books

Some of the locals had informed me that the sun rose around 620, so I estimated that I had to be hiking in at around 6 AM. Yesterday, I found a new way of hiking into the flats that would not disturb the water. When I arrived at the parking area- a dirt patch off the dirt road- it was completely dark. Walking over the top of the hill, standing over the beach, I could see the sunlight bending over the ocean.

It was a bit eerie walking through the woods in the dark of the morning and I was glad when I broke through to the beach. There, I scaled the rocky point and arrived at the Bonefish flats at exactly 620- just when the sun was coming up. I sat on an head high bolder that was resting on the side of the cliff, the elevation gave me a better angle to see the backs of Bonefish and also kept me out of the water and out of sight. It only took a ten minutes before I saw my first Bonefish.

I jumped off the rock and started slowly walking to what I thought was just one cruising fish. It was traveling, as they seemed to in the sun up and sun down, from the mangrove cove out into the deeper water. It was swimming towards me at a decent pace so I probably would only get one cast at it.

Crouching down, I stripped out line and began casting. The fly landed perfectly in front and to the side of the fish; Strip, strip, strip, as a shrimp would swim. Then, with the low light, shallow water, and calm wind I saw the fish’s back sticking out of the water as it turned on my fly. The wake grew with speed and I increased my strips, imitating a scared shrimp trying to swim away (I found out later that this is not the traditional way of fishing for Bonefish, that, according to most Bone fishermen, you are supposed to stop stripping once the Bone turns on your fly). The fish darted at my fly, swallowing it, then turning its body sideways in an explosion of water. Line stripped out of my reel as the fish torpedoed through the shallow water. I looked down and within seconds I was into my backing. But just as the fish got out past the flats my line felt to the water. I had lost another fish.

I checked my rig and the knot had unraveled from the pressure of the fish. I wasn’t too disappointed, watching the back of that Bonefish turn on my fly with a perfect morning sunrise behind me, no wind, no people, is something that I won’t forget.

After low tide I went back over to the Permit flats, where I sat down and rested. It had been a long week in the sun walking up and down the beach and I was beginning to feel the effects of my diet; crackers and pbj’s with one solid meal for dinner.

I sat there thinking, what am I doing here? I am all by myself, on a random island, on a random beach, with no one around, trying to land a Permit? It didn’t seem like a noble cause but I was enjoying it.

A Permit showed up at high tide, as expected, and I made several perfect casts to this fish. After a week of fishing, I was becoming very comfortable casting to these fish. I spent half an hour working this fish with what I thought was flawless presentations. But, the fish refused my fly and eventually swam out past the reef. Had I had another person, such as Ross, I would have changed my fly, but without him I couldn’t change my fly and lose sight of the fish. Not having a partner really weakened my chances.

After the fish disappeared I lay down and took a fifteen-minute nap, waking only to check and see if there was a feeding Permit. I would sit up, check the water, and then lie back down for another 15 minutes. If there was a fish coming it would probably stay at least that long and I wouldn’t miss it. I took three short naps.

At around 3 PM I moved back to the Bonefish flats but didn’t land any fish. I fished half an hour after sunset, then trekked through the water, around the mangroves, past the deep barracuda hole, through the second Bonefish flat, and out of the water. It was 630 PM, and besides 45 minutes in nap time I had fished for 12 hours straight, by myself, in what I would consider paradise.

Ross had to leave today and fly home to Boston for another trip down to Mexico to climb a mountain with some college buddies. So, I, not wanting to leave the island, decided to stay by here alone. So the next day Ross left, taking the tent with him, and I was forced- although it took little force- to rent a room in a hotel. We fished the morning tide, and I tried to get Ross his first Bonefish. He had another chaser but didn’t hook into it. For a beginner, he did incredibly well this week, hooking into a barracuda and getting several Bones to chase his fly. He was also instrumental in my success, finding the Permit I eventually hooked into, and helped us figure out how to catch fish on the flats. But most importantly, he was an enjoyable companion and he enjoys fishing no matter how many fish he does or doesn’t catch.

I spent much of the rest of the day renting another car, getting into the hotel, getting some food and supplies for the remainder of my trip. In the even, however, I returned to the flats and fished the evening low tide.

That night I washed all my gear, packed for the next day, and passed out at 8. I never rely on my morning brainpower so I like to be pack and ready when I awake. Today was going to be a full day and an early start so I wanted to be prepared.

Today we had a choice; we could go back to the same beach we fished for three days or we could get a boat ride to another flat, that we heard was good, and try our chances there. From my brief experience fishing without a guide on new island flats, switching spots decreases your chances of catching fish. In order to catch fish you must be confident and work a spot over, day after day.

So we decided to return to the same beach and applied the same techniques. At noon, we sat in the shade and watched the waves breaking over the reef and flatten out into three feet of water. We talked about life, school, and girls until Ross. Then, after a half an hour of wait, Ross spotted a Permit’s silhouette breaking in the wave.

I got up slowly, knowing that the fish would most likely feed for awhile, picked up my rod, strapped on my fanny pack, and took a calming breath. The fish rode a wave in, slowed in the calm water, then tailed, sifting through the beach bottom.

I looked back and up, the sky was clear of clouds- something necessary when trying to see fish on in the surf. Then, with a deliberate walk I entered the water to the right of the fish- giving myself a casting angle and putting the sun at my back, the best position for seeing fish.

The fish continued feeding sixty feet off. So that it wouldn’t tangle, I stripped out line and placed it carefully behind me and to my right. Then I started making a cast, back and forth, towards the fish, which was swimming closer. But just as I was at the right distance, the sun ducked behind a cloud and I lost sight of the fish. Because I needed to be able to see the fish take my fly, I dropped my cast behind me and slowly retreated out of the water.

I walked back up on the beach and hoped that it didn’t spook. Ross and I stood fifteen feet apart staring out on the water. We both had lost the fish in the cloud break and didn’t know where it was- it is amazing how these large fish can just disappear in only three feet of clear Caribbean water.

“Do you see it? I’ve lost sight of it. I think it went left but I’m just guessing by which was it was facing. How about you take the right side and I’ll stay left.” I said to Ross, who was also frantically scanning the water.

After a few minutes I thought it was gone. I thought I had made a terrible mistake in not making that cast but just then we saw a tail. There, just to the right of us, the fish was still feeding.

I slowly reentered the water and started again stripping out line. This time I wasn’t going to hesitate. I had on a sea urchin pattern with elk hair in the front and an orange material in the back. The fish was facing away and out to sea, so I made a cast that landed a foot behind the fish, almost on its tail- not a great cast. The Permit must have heard it hit the water, for it turned immediately around and started swimming towards my fly. Just then I felt a slight tug and instinctively tugged back. The next second I saw the Permit dart to the left so quickly that I assumed it had spooked and was off my line. My line stripped out but the fish was so far ahead that it couldn’t possibly be on, but then the line caught up and the fish made another run, this time towards me. Instinctively, I pulled the line off the reel and in as fast as I could- a move I would later regret.

Now, I was holding my rod high in one hand and the line in my other hand when I noticed the remainder of my line had spooled up. Because the fish took line out so quickly the line had become tangled up and a small loop had fixed itself around the butt section. I froze. I think about this moment often because if I had done something differently I might be showing you a picture or telling you about my first Permit landed on a fly, but instead I did nothing. And the fish took another run, this time out past the reef, and the loop caught around the butt and the fish broke off, as if it wasn’t even connected, and my line went slack.

I turned and screamed, got on the beach and fell to my knees. I just lost a Permit. I fished for four days for that fish, did almost everything right, only to have my line loop around my rod. I jumped up and hugged Ross. I was disappointed but thrilled; I had hooked, with Ross’ help, into a Permit.

I went to bed thinking that I had a legitimate chance to catch a fish tomorrow. The time would be right, I had the right tactics, and I the right gear. What I didn’t know was that I had the wrong fish.

We got to the beach at 9 and scaled around the two large, rock covered points that blocked anyone but boot-wearing fisherman from venturing over to our flats. Today I was prepared for Tarpon, carrying both my 10 wt rod rigged for Tarpon and my 9 wt for Permit.

Just as we got over the second point and landed on the beach I spotted a tail sticking out of the water. The fin of a fish is unmistakable and I immediately started running towards it. I stopped and waited for another sighting.

“There!” I said after noticing a tail reamerging out of the water.

I ran ahead of the fish and drudged through the water into the surf. While stripping out line I kept my eyes on the fin and made a cast. The fly landed perfectly in front of the fish, leading by 4 feet- perfect for Tarpon. I stripped in slowly as I had practiced at home on the field; strip, pause, strip, pause, strip, strip. I picked up my fly, ran ahead of the fish and made another almost perfect cast. Strip, strip, strip, but nothing.

The fish was swimming down the beach away from us. It seemd erratic, stopping to feed then cruising again.. Its movements seemed uncharactoristic of Tarpon, which usually cruise at a constant speed down the beach. I leaned forward on my toes trying to get a good look at the fish’s body. Luckily a wave broke over the fish and I finally made out the fish’s silhouette; a round face and skinny body. It was a Permit!

“Ross, it’s a Permit, not a Tarpon. Switch rods.”

I jumped back on the beach and ran ahead of the fish. Again I set myself up but with my 9 wt rod. I made a couple of more casts, this time right on top of the fish as Chris had instructed. We chased that fish half a mile down the beach, leading it, making casts, losing it, leading it again, making more casts. Finally, it got close to shore and saw me, spooking, turning sharply, and swimming out towards the coral reef and out into sea, out of sight.

I sat down and wiped the sweat from my glasses. I was exhausted but pumped that we had finally taken a decent shot a Permit. I couldn’t believe I was actually fishing for Permit.

I thought about the fish we saw the day before and wondered if it wasn’t Permit. After what I saw over the rest of the week the first two fish were not Tarpon but cruising- a somewhat easy mistake to the untrained or unfamiliar eye.

We walked back to the spot where we first saw the Permit and sat down to watch. We decided on a new tactic, something adopted from Deer hunting- sitting and waiting. We sat waiting in the shade waiting for cruising Permit, enjoying our beach while at the same time hunting.

Within another hour a school of four Permit appeared. They cruised in on the waves and started feeding in the flat area between the reef and the beach. I quickly jumped up and made several casts to the fish but spooked them after only a couple of minutes.

We sat back down and I decided that next time I had to be more patient with the fish. That the fish didn’t seem to be going anywhere too quickly and that next time I would wait for the perfect oppurtunity to enter the water and cast.

We waited for more fish but none returned. As the tide went out we headed up the beach towards the Bonefish flats. There we fished for a several hours with no luck. Ross and I both had casers (when the Bone chases after the fly but doesn’t eat) but we didn’t land any fish. It was a great day because we were getting closer to seeing and therefore catching fish on our own, from the beach, and without a guide.

As Ross would say, I was stoked for our first full day on the island. In the morning we left our tent at the campsite and set out for the beach. Our friend and guide Chris said that today high tide was at 9 and it is the best tide for seeing fish- particularly Permit. But as I climbed over the rocks and saw water level at 3-4 feet I realized that it was going to be harder than yesterday to see fish and yesterday was almost impossible. I needed another strategy.

“Ross, I think today we should stay on the beach where it is elevated and we can look out onto the water without spooking any fish. If we wade the flats, like we did yesterday, we won’t likely see fish until it’s too late. But if we stand on the beach we have the sun at our backs and we just might get lucky and see tails or nervous water.”

He agreed and we started walking three quarters of a mile down the white sandy beach with our heads turned towards the sea. We searched intensely, looking back for any missed fish and forward for any incoming.

After half an hour we stopped and talked to a man walking his dog (he would be the only person we saw on this beach all week). He owned the house at the end of the beach, where we were headed, and on his walks he only saw Permit from where we were standing to where we came from- and usually at low tide. But, up ahead about a mile and around the penninsula there are two flat that hold lots of Bonefish. Just last week his buddy caught two Bones fishing there. We thanked him and continued on. We deciding that we would book it through this beach and check out past the point to the flats he described.

We lost focus, started talking, and increased our walking speed. But instinctively I ckeck watching the water in case I noticed any fish. And then I saw a fin, and another, cruising only ten feet from where we stood and just past the beach break.

“Tarpon, there, swimming right there” I said as I pointed. The fish were moving slowly left and Ross, who was rigged up for Tarpon, got in the water and started casting as I fumbled with my rod to switch on a heavier leader and the right fly (I had a Permit rig on). Ross made several casts behind the fish and after I got on my Tarpon fly I ran ahead and made a cast. The line hit the water just as I lost sight of the fish. Then, I saw the tail sweep and splash my fly. The fish was spooked. I made another cast just in case and felt a tug. I was on.

My heart was pounding as the fish made a gallent run for the reef. It was a great to finally feel my rod bend and I couldn’t believe I had hooked in to a Tarpon. Or did I? The fish stopped and didn’t jump- that’s when I knew it was something else. I fought the fish for another five minutes only to pull in a large Jack. It was disappointing but still fun. It only lasted for a minute but it was unbelievable seeing Tarpon- or what I thought were Tarpon- so close to the beach (later I realized that they were in fact cruising Permit and not Tarpon at all).

We continued on towards the second flats and fished there for the rest of the day. We saw several Bonefish, with most of the activity a half an hour before and after sunset but we didn’t hook into any Bonefish.

We woke up and checked out of our hotel at 8AM. We started walking around town trying to find some breakfast or maybe a grocery store but quickly discovered that nothing on this island opens until 9, not even the bakery. As we crossed the canal, a 25ft river that runs through the three streets of town, we noticed a guide with two clients landing his boat on the dock. “Let’s go talk to him”.

The guide was dropping his clients back off because it was too cloudy and windy to actually try any fishing today. I introduced myself and started talking to Chris, an older, grey bearded, guide about some places to fish.

“So, where are you staying?” he asked.

“Well we don’t know yet.”

“Do you have a car?”

“No, but we can get one,” I replied.

“Ok, let me tell you a good place that you can go and fish by yourselves.”

Chris was extremely helpful. After grabbing some coffee he sat down and drew out a map of places for us to try and fish. We needed to rent a car but he told us about a beach where we were likely to see Permit and another area where we would definitely see Bonefish. But he said that Tarpon were not likely to be close enough to shore to catch without a guide.

“How do you catch Permit?”

“Well, here is a Permit pattern you can try. When you find Permit, what I tell my clients is ‘hit them on the head’ because they are digging with their mouths and you want the fly to look like it just came up from wherever they were just digging. Then, and this is the tough part, make sure you can see them because you have to set the hook when they crush the fly. See, Permit crush their prey so make sure to set the hook then. And I hope you have lots of backing, ‘cause we get 40 lbs Permit around here.”

So Ross and I were pumped that we found out all this information and I couldn’t believe that I might try for Permit. We spent the morning renting a car from Jerry’s Jeep shop, getting groceries, and setting up our tent at Flamenco Beach, the local campsite.

That afternoon, around 2, we set out for the beach that Chris showed us. The island only has three basic roads; one that goes to the North and to our campsite, one to the East end and the beach, and one to the south towards town and the Ferry. It isn’t a complicated island so we found the beach alright.

After climbing over some boulders and around two peninsulas we found the mile long stretch of beach that Chris described. A reef sits 70 yards from the shore and creates a small waves that rolls sand and coral. The sand and coral are no more than 3-4 feet deep, depending on the tide. According to Chris we will find Permit and bonefish in this section of the mile long beach.

We stood 10 yards apart and started walking along the flats. Within twenty minutes I saw a school of what I thought was Bonefish. But these foot long fish that darted past us started circling in what looked like a daisy chain. Tarpon? They were baby Tarpon. We made a couple of casts but they were already spooked and we didn’t know what to throw at them. We continued on down the beach.

A bit later we saw what we thought was a Permit, but I am still not sure because we lost it in the cloudy water. After a couple of hours we headed home but felt confident and excited about tomorrow. Today was successful. We found a place to stay, a beach to fish, and some food to eat. We will all set for our vacation.

Instead of fishing for Tarpon as I expected, I was introduced to Tarpons smaller, tougher little sister the Permit. Like Everest’s counterpart K2, Tarpon has the Permit. Why is the Permit so tough? As my good friend Richard told me, “I don’t even believe that Permit like to eat”. Not only are they selective eaters but because they eat tough shelled critters such as sea erchants and crabs, they don’t swollow their food like normal fish. Instead they crush their prey with a beak like mouth and then drop it, only to swallow it after.

So, if you are crazy enough to try and fishing for Permit, you have to find them, then make a perfect cast right on their head, and when they do bite down be sure to set the hook. Finally, if you’re lucky enough to hook up, you have to land a 15-40 pound fish that is built like one enormous fin. This is why Permit are now my K2.

The first day of the trip was spent deciding what to do on the trip. After landing at the Puerto Rico’s San Juan Airport Ross and I spent half an hour in the Tourist Information Center. “Take a bus or a taxi to Fajada where there is a ferry that leaves at 7 PM. It costs 2$ and takes about an hour to calebra Island. There, there are places to stay and camp out”, the lady behind the counter informed us. (If you are going on any trip I highly recommend stopping at the tourist information center, whether or not you already have everything planned. They will provide local knowledge, books and numbers of everything you need, and maps.)

So we had lunch, got reaquainted, and took a cab to Fajada. Along the way Ross showed me his fly selection, new reel, and talked about his new rod- all recent christmas presents from his mother.

The ferry ride over was a bit rough and Ross spent the second half of the trip leaning over the trash can while I closed my eyes and tried to block out the kid crying next to me and the tipping of the boat.

We arrived on calebra, a tiny island about 7 miles long and 4 miles wide, with no place to stay. The 25 people on the boat shuffled out into the parking lot. I was expecting to see more people on the island or maybe even some cabs but instead it was just empty cars, stores closed, and one street leading out. We walked down the one street and talked to a nice lady who told us where we could stay for the night. They had an extra room and we decided not to rough it until tomorrow. Ross, after a long week of exams and travel, passed out in full clothes on the bed while I went downstairs to the local restaurant and called some guides and talked with the bartender about fishing.

While on Anegada- my Bonefish guided trip- I took several decent casts to rolling Tarpon. One 30lber looked at my fly then turned and slowly swam away. I glanced down as we floated past these young Tarpon and remembered all the missed, jumped, and lost Tarpon that I have experienced over the years. I could feel my knees weakening.

Two days later, on the 5 hour flight home from Virgin Gorda I read “No Short Cuts to the Top", an autobiography about an American mountain climber named Ed Vestors who climbed the 14 highest Mountains in the world without bottle oxygen. The most impressive part isn’t that he successfully summit all these mountains or that he climbed them all without bottle oxygen, it is that he, unlike so many other climbers, climbed them without major errors, tragedy, or getting seriously hurt- an unparallel feat. How was he so successful? He credits skill, diligence, luck, good genes and preparation. He trained his body hard, practiced his technique, packed and organized months before the trip, and read about his next mountain. He also knew his limits. And when he was in trouble or felt uneasy he would retreat knowing that he could return.

On Saturday Richard and I drove to the fly shop. I talked with the owners of two different shops about leaders, tippet, and knots. The first owner, Alden, recommended that I use no butt section and tie a surgeon loops from the line to the middle section where I have 3-4 feet of 20-30lbs leader. Then, I use a double Uni knot to attach the shock tippet to the middle section. A double Uni knot is basically two nail knots tied together that then slide towards each other until they lock up. I asked Alden about the Bimini twist and he said that there was too much room for error and that most people make a twist in the loop of the Bimini, which makes it weak. I tested out both knots and find that the shock tippet part- or the thicker section- often uncoils under lots of stress.

He also recommended the Homer Rhodes knot for tying on the fly. The Homer Rhodes knot makes a one-inch loop away from the eye of the fly giving the fly more life in the water. I have tested this knot out and it is easy to tie, adjust, and hold really well. It hasn’t broken so far.

The second owner recommended using Bimini Twists. He said that they are the strongest knots and will also serve as a shock absorber for the leader. He also recommended the Uni knot or some kind of knot that locks itself together.
He put on 30 lbs hot pink backing with a Bimini Twist. I also had a butt section put on the end of a new Cortland 10 wt F/I clear tip line- something that both owners recommended (clear tip floating/intermediate line).  The hot pink backing started as a joke but apparently it is helpful to be able to see your backing and it doesn't look half bad. The butt section was tied on with two Nail knots tied over the line and the leader. All the knots were glued with some kind of specific glue- I often use crazy glue- to lock the knots in place. The knots were obviously dry before put together.

Tarpon rigs are very complex and I recommend using your local shop for assistance (but make sure your local shop knows Tarpon too). And then I bought 6 more Tarpon flies to add to my already two boxes of flies.

After left the shops Richard and I went fishing for Trout. We fished the upper section of the stream and found it more difficult to land fish. After a long three hours of driving and checking out shops both Richard and I were pretty tired and found it difficult to focus on fishing. I, luckily, recovered and hooked into some really nice fish. The upper section was much more difficult and it took a very long dropper- of around 4 feet- to find fish. I loved the upper section because it was more difficult and less managed. I caught around a dozen fish and a couple really nice rainbows. I hope to fish that upper section again.

I scored 98 out of a 100 on my hunter’s safety test, officially making me eligible to get my hunting license in the state of Connecticut. The class, a 16 hour weeklong free class, was much more interesting an educational than I had originally anticipated. I learned how about shotguns, rifles, barrels, bullets, safety, travel, survival, and animals. It provided most of the knowledge that is somewhat intuitive so that you don’t have to rely on your intuitions. Now, when I hunt, I will know what is the right thing to do rather than having to figure it out on the spot.

It also taught me important information that I can bring to fishing, such as survival, hypothermia, heat exhaustion, map, compass, and safety precautions. I recommend this class to everyone, regardless of if you are interested in hunting, fishing, or both.

After taking the day off from work Richard called me early Friday morning and asked if I wanted to go fishing.

When we got to the river around 11 it was already starting to rain, with 55 degree weather, and cloudy overcast skies. I was using my 9' 4 wt sage rod and Richard used his short bamboo rod. We both tied on dry flies and fished two neighboring pools. The dry flies were wishful thinking but we had to give them a shot. After about fifteen minutes and no strikes or rises Richard put on a dropper.
I turned and looked back at Richard to see his bamboo rod bent and his dog jumping around a nice fish. I walked back over and took a couple of pictures of a rainbow that he later measured at 18" (measuring the length that it stopped on his rod). He released the fish and simply stated, "Dropper, a long dropper", as he showed me a 3' long dropper with a beadhead pheasant tail nymph.

The river we were fishing is more like a stream than a river and at it's deepest parts it gets to be 4". On average, it is about 2-3. So a 3' dropper is a bit long but today the water level was full and the fish were not rising, so we had to get our nymph down deep.

I tied a dropper off the end of my Caddis and started nymphing. Within minutes I hooked into two fish. Then I trekked up to the next pool and landed my first big trout. Catching fish was a nice change from the long days of Bonefishing without one catch or strike. I also enjoyed nymphing. Some people look down on nymphing but there is something about trying to catch the fish that is down deep on the bottom of a dark hole that I really enjoy.

Richard and I worked our way up river, hop-scotching each other to each pool. The river is littered with perfect pools and we had a blast hook in and landing lots of large trout. You can see some pictures of Richard's rainbow, and my brown and rainbow in the New Photo's section.

I walked up to one pool and it look strangely unfamiliar. I have fished this river enough to know each pool and this one was different. I looked at the land and noticed that they had recently cut down a bush. Now I remembered, it was a pool my brother and I both stomped through pricker bushes to fish. They had removed the bush and build a large stone wall to stand on. I changed my fly to a heavier, shorter nymph, and extended my dropper to 4' (I had cut it back from it's original length). I plopped my fly into the heavier, faster water and let my nymph sink and flow into the medium water- where I found most of the fish were holding. My fly slowly dropped and I pulled up, setting the hook. The fish took a run and jumped straight out of the water. It was a fat rainbow, the biggest fish yet, and it put up a great fight- stripping out line several time. I thought I might have to chase it into the lower pool but I finally pulled in a nice 18" rainbow with a large girth, the biggest fish I have ever caught on this river. Richard took some pictures (that can be seen in the photo section) and I released the fish.
We continued fishing until 4 o'clock. Richard dropped me off at a local diner and I waited to be picked up by my girlfriend who lives around the area.

The rain, clouds and full water level made it ideal fishing with nymphs. The rain muted the heavy sound of a weighted nymph falling on the water, the gray clouds allowed us to stand closer to the fish, and the heavier water held the fish in medium paced water. My 9 ft rod also gave me greater mending and line control that is so critical when nymphing.

And I outfished Richard.

I celebrated the new years by watching a few fire works and going to bed just after midnight. I was tired from a week of fishing and I had to get up at 630 to catch a ferry over to Anegada to go fishing with a guide for a full day. I scheduled this guide earlier in the week as insurance, in case I didn't catch a Bonefish on my own, I wanted to make sure that I didn't leave empty handed. I invited my mother along because she badly wanted to catch a fish and she was excited to try again (she came on two of my expeditions on VG).

We met up with Kevin, our guide, on Anegada and motored over to the flats I had fished just a few days earlier with my brother (We only saw one fish in 7 hours of fishing).
"A lot of activity today my friend," said Kevin, as he slowed the boat down and turned us towards the outside of the flats. I looked at him in disbelief, how did he see fish while he was talking with my mom and driving the boat at almost 30 mph?
"You don't believe me," he said, "Well I'll show you."
We spun around and started floating towards a 10 yards wide white cloud of sand and mud in the water. "See there, that is Bonefish". The flats were deep here, around 5-6 feet, and it was almost impossible to sight any fish.
"Make a couple of casts into there" he said as he pointed to the cloud of sand.
On my second cast my line stopped, when taut, and shot out. This time I was familiar with the fight and I enjoyed it without having the fear of losing the fish. Because if I lost it, I had already caught one Bonefish, and I was already satified with my trip. But I landed it and took a couple of pictures. I looked at my watch, 935 AM- with a guide it took me only 35 minutes to catch a Bonefish, without one it took me five days.

My mother took over but had difficulty casting in the heavy winds. Kevin would spot fish 10-15 yards off and yell out some kind of command, "Cast, 12 oclock, 12 oclock, coming towards us," and then, "They are spooked, stop casting". This process only took about two seconds and if you weren't an experienced caster- and my mom is a bit rusty- the chances of catching a fish are pretty low.

She fished for awhile and then I spotted a rolling Tarpon. I could believe it. Tarpon are my nemesis. And when I see them my knees feel weak and I can barely cast straight. I have spent weeks going after Tarpon to only have one tiny 20 lber under my belt. I had to fish for these Tarpon. We set up the 9 wt with Tarpon leader and made two attempts at the three fish eating. I had one take a look at my fly but it didn't eat. Kevin said around Anegada the Tarpon are very difficult to hook into (they are always difficult but apparently here more difficult than other places).

My mother fished until late into the day but still had no luck. We saw lots of Bonefish and at around 230 she was tired and decided that she needed work on her casting before she could catch a fish. I felt that she knew even if she did catch a fish it would be more from luck, and she wanted to make sure that she that it was from earning it, and not luck.

I hooked into another Bonefish, this time from site casting. I made a long backcast to a moving school of fish and convinced one to come off track and turn onto my fly. I saw it clearly as it stopped, turned, and took my fly. It sat there for a second, turned sideways and in shallow water, then took off. After a couple of second my fly snapped and I lost the fish but I was glad that I had successfully hooked one by sight casting and not just blindly casting into a pod.

My brother took the day off and I took my mother and sister out fishing on New Year's Day. They had both been dying to fish and I had promised that I would take them. We went to the same spot and applied the same tactics. This time I didn't hold a fly rod, I had one for my sister and one for my mother while I stood in the middle and hoped to find some fish. We watched for a few hours and only saw one fish. Then we walked the entire flats and floated through before we left. Still no fish. The fish had apparently felt the pressure of my constant fishing and decided that these flats were no longer safe. Regardless, my mother and sister had a great time fishing and I was glad to take them out.

Now that I had finally caught a Bonefish, without the aid of a guide it was my brother's turn to catch his first. So, instead of taking the day off, I headed back out there with my brother and my father.

"You know that you can't fish until I land one," my brother said half jokingly as we motored over to the flats.
I was pretty confident and thought if we had the same conditions as yesterday that we would catch another Bonefish. Upon arriving Derek spotted a fish near the mangroves where I had landed mine. He shuffled over there, through the flats and in the spot where we usually saw fish. I was somewhat unsure about this move because I thought it might spook a lot of fish but if he knew that there was a fish there he had to go for it. My father and I watched at the edge of the flats as Derek made several casts to the fish. It did not take and after a couple of minutes he stopped casting and returned to the edge of  the flats. I looked back and saw all the dirt he had kicked up and thought maybe this could bring some trouble.
The three of us stood ten yards apart scoping out the flats. Derek took the highest point and said he saw two fish but I didn't see any. I didn't see one fish the entire day and at around 3 we left feeling frustrated and the confidence we had established had all but disappeared. Where had all the fish gone? Had we over fished them? Did we spook them today? Were we too early? I felt badly that Derek didn't catch a fish and I could tell that he was upset from the outcome.

After five days of fishing and one day off because of Christmas, I was starting to get tired from waking up early, driving over the mountains, catching a ferry, renting a whaler, bouncing over to the flats, standing all day, and not catching any fish. But being tired usually doesn't stop me from fishing and if you check out my blogs from october (below) then you know that I have in the past fished for over 30 days in a row.
So Derek and I again found ourselves standing at the edge of the flats, at around 930 in the morning, with a perfect blue sky and whipping wind. From the past four days of fishing we had learned that this second flat held fish, that the fish could be seen tailing, torpedoing (when they make a wake), feeding, or cruising along these shallow waters, and that when we saw a Bonefish we had to attack more aggressively than we were accustomed to with trout fishing.

This morning we fished for several hours, seeing lots of fish and getting some good cast to them- I even had a follow from one. And then, after casting to two traveling Bonefish, cruising in deeper waters just off the flats i hooked into a fish. it took my line straight out faster than the Steelhead, Trout, or any other species I had ever been attached to. But just as quickly as it was on, it was off. My rod went limp and I felt the pain of defeat. after all that work somehow my hook had broken off the leader. I had lost my Bonefish. i wanted to cry but not now, I knew that there might be another fish nearby and I would cry later tonight if i didn't land one today. For now, we were getting closer.
Around noon I spotted a tailing fish seventy yards away on the left of a small mangrove island. I started over to almost within casting distance,
"You better go for it now, look at what's coming," my brother said, pointing at the dark storm coming our way. in the six days we had been on VG there was nothing but great weather. and now, in the midst of my perfect opportunity a huge storm was coming, a dark Caribbean storm that would swallow the sun and any opportunity at seeing or catching a Bonefish (it is almost impossible to see fish without a perfect sun, even small clouds hurt your chances greatly).

I turned back to the fish and away from the storm. I was a bit out of range but I started casting, letting out line quickly and double hauling to gain momentum for an extended cast. I shot the line out and into the deep slot that I knew the fish was holding. strip, strip, pause, strip, strip and suddenly my line stopped, it sat there for a second and i pulled again setting the hook as the line shot out of my hand. the fish torpedoed away from me then turned and shot across, out to the flats, making a large wake and turning up dirt and debris. all I could see was my backing beginning to come out of my guides- in only a few seconds this fish had pulled out 50 yards of line. but luckily the fish slowed down and I checked my drag, it was a bit loose but could manage. I was so focused on the fish that I barely realized the tropical storm arriving and I was getting covered with rain. the heavy droplets hit my back and the wind flapped at my pants but all i thought about was my 12 lb tippet and my newly tied knot. I thought about my line and the backing, and everything that held me to this bonefish. I felt confident that everything was strong and I started pulling the fish in,giving it slack when it ran but controlling the fight.

When the fish tired and started in closer, my brother grabbed the camera out of my backpack. i held the rod high away from my body and grabbed the fish. after five days of scouting, experiments, and failing I was finally holding onto my first Bonefish. I dropped my rod into the water and got down on one knee, looking at the fish i felt a sense of relief and joy, but mostly relief. I smiled for a couple of pictures and got a good look at the fish. It had beautiful stripes on its back and a silver color so perfectly shaded for blending into sand that i now fully understood why it took so long to find one.

On the fourth day we almost took the day off. After three hard days and not even a follow our spirits were almost broken. But we motivated, even with a late start, and got to the Bitterend flats around 11. There we noticed a change in water level. With the larger moon and lower tide the flats, which were normally 2-3 feet deep, were only a foot deep. The shallower water allowed us to see fish earlier and farther away, giving us a much greater chance of actually catching something. Today, we combined techniques- of floating and walking- and stood on an anchored boat. We stood perched high on the water and stared at the flats. After about ten minutes Derek, my brother, spotted a tailing Bonefish. He quickly jumped out of the boat and started walking upwind of the fish, while I kept my eye on it.

"Keep going up, it is 30 yards at 1 o'clock" I said . I kept my eye on the fish and directed Derek. The Bonefish slowly worked its way towards Derek, as he started casting. I couldn't believe we were actually seeing a tailing fish and now Derek was casting to one.
He made a couple great casts, right in front of the fish, but it had no interest. And after a couple of tries, the fish slowly disappeared into deeper water. I was pretty disappointed that we didn't catch it but at the same time happy that we actually had a chance of hooking up.

For the rest of the day we stood, either in the boat or on the edge of the flats, scanning the water for shadows, nervous water, tails, dirt, or splashes.
As I stared I noticed some mud about 70 yards off. The mud wasn't there before and it was a small, two feet round spot. Then, a bit later, I saw another patch- this time a bit to the left. It must be a bonefish. I started creeping towards the fish, like a disciplined trout fisherman, slowly working my way towards it feeding. But just as I got into casting range the fish stopped feeding and I lost him. He didn't even show his tail. I stood still and hoped that he would start up again. I waited for a couple of minutes, looking, hoping, cursing. And then I saw him, he was to my right, only ten feet away. He turned and got spooked, darting off.

We saw about 10 fish in total and we made a couple of casts to fish but didn't hook into any. We went home rejuvenated and with a feeling that we might actually be able to catch one of these things. We did, however, both agree that we needed to be more aggressive; that when we saw a fish feed or tailing we hurried over to it and made a cast. They were too mobile. Stalking, like we do for trout, was not the right tactic. Now we had found the spot, we had stared to see them earlier, and we thought we had the right tactic.

We heard from everybody that Anegada, a neighboring island, was the spot to fish for Bonefish. So my brother and I took the 7 am ferry over and from "Bonefish Villa" to the bridge. I learned of this spot from talking with a guide the night before. After getting dropped off by the taxi, we had to bushwack to get to the beach. The flats extended out three hundred yards and for miles. But the water was three feet deep and there was still a lot of wind- making it almost impossible to see any fish. We walked the flats all day, from 8 to 4, and only saw one bonefish. I saw it swim right past my leg, made one cast to it but it was no use.
On the ferry ride back we were really discouraged and tired. After fishing for three days we hadn't even had a bonefish look at our fly. I was beginning to think that maybe it was impossible to catch a bonefish without a guide.

I took my mother to the second Bonefish Flat (see the 24th's blog for description) with the whaler. I decide today to try a different technique. This time I would let the wind push the whaler, with both of us in it, across the flats. Hopefully, by standing on a boat and therefore higher, I could see the bonefish earlier and actually make a cast to one.

My mother served as guide; using the oar as a poling stick and steering us straight through the flats. We started to see Bonefish. But they were swimming towards us and we were floating towards them and by the time I spotted them they came so quickly that I didn't have much of a chance. We floated the spot four times and saw about 8 fish. I made a couple of casts to fish, an improvement from the first day, but didn't have any followers. On the fourth float we didn't see anymore fish and thought they might be spooked. We headed home. I was hopefully for tomorrow and felt that I was getting closer to catching one.

The only information about the island is that on the far end there is a resort, called the Bitter End, where you can rent whalers for $50 and take them to nearby flats. On these flats, there are sometimes Bonefish.
On the first full day in Virgin Gorda (VG) my brother, Matt, our family friend, and I drove over the mountains and caught the ferry over to Bitter End. At Bitter End, there are rudimentary maps- made from the workers out of paint- that have two areas called "Bonefish Flats". This gave us hope and we quickly rented a 11' whaler, loaded our 8 and 9 wt rods and took off towards the "Bonefish Flats".

The first spot was only a quarter mile away from the resort. It was the end of a peninsula. The flat was covered with small waves and rough water, created by the strong Atlantic winds that blew straight into shore. The three of us walked 15 feet apart and swept through the knee deep flats. After about an hour I saw our first fish. I spotted the bonefish only five feet away and watched it swim past my feet. That was the only fish we saw on those "Bonefish Flats" (and would be the only fish we saw there the entire trip).

We headed across the bay to the second "Bonefish Flat". This was an inlet, and ran along a long row of mangroves. It was almost two feet deep with a sand and rock bottom that stretched for more than two hundred yards. There were less waves here, as an outer reef stopped them from coming in, but the wind still made the water choppy and difficult to see through. We posted in different spots along the flats and searched. We saw maybe six more fish but only when they cruised comfortably past our feet. they would appear maybe ten feet away and by that time they were spooked and a cast was useless. We did see lots of sharks which paraded around us with little fear- giving us some fear. Some got so close that I had to turn my rod around and hit them on the head with my reel. This was a bit disconcerting and while retreating to the boat a barracuda  bit into my fly- a  larger tarpon fly that I put on to maybe hook into the sharks with- but the small Cuda broke off. At around 3, after almost five hours of scouting, we headed home.

I hit the fly shop, a necessary evil, and picked up all the supplies i needed for the trip; 10 leaders, 2 rolls of tippet (10, 12 lb), floating warm weather line, hook sharpener, tarpon leader; 40lb and 22 lb tippet with a shot section. i had to have all the supplies because there are no fly shops on virgin gorda. i also needed enough for my brother and in case i needed to guide anyone in my family. i managed to spend around $100 dollars on everything.

Richard and I fished dries for large trout on Sunday at Richard favorite steam. I fished a caddis and caught three nice fish all on dries. And yes, Richard out fished me (check out the forum). He caught 8 fish and lost one huge one. If you want to get an idea of how awesome this stream is watch this video.

I looked down at Richard, who was fishing with a bamboo rod, and it looked like he was stuck on the bottom. The rod was fully bent and his line went deep into the pool. I thought he was stuck because he started walking towards his fly. But then I remembered he was fishing a dry fly and it would be almost impossible for him to get stuck on the bottom. I started walking down to watch and then he broke off. Apparently this large fish jumped three times then wrapped itself around a stick on the bottom. Richard was trying to walk up to it and free it but it broke itself off. Sounded like a really nice fish.

The weather again was unbelievable and I couldn’t pass up fishing. I drove up to the Farmington and fished another small split in the river that I know. I didn’t have any luck but found a pool that looks amazing. It is tucked away and somewhat discrete but perfect. It has three ripples; one skinny and shallow, one wide and 3 feet deep, and one long and narrow but very deep. Then it bellies out and to a flat section for maybe 30 yards. It looks just delicious and I can’t wait to fish it in the spring.

It was another 50-degree day in December but this time not raining. I decided to try out the Farm, a small spring creek near my house. I took my 7 ft 4 wt rod out and drove over there at noon. I was hoping to see some raising fish but unfortunately didn’t. So I put on the same rig I had on for the Farmington, an indicator and bead head pheasant tail (this time a bit smaller nymph), and fished a large pool with a fallen tree and a nice ripple. I landed a tiny, maybe 3-4 inch, fish but it had beautiful colors and the fish don’t get my much larger than 10 inches in this stream. Check out my video, “Strikes” if you want to watch some footage from this stream.

Tom, the President of Yale Fly Fishing Club, Chris, and I fished the Farmington River. It was 50 degrees and raining and the water level was stopped at the high water mark- meaning it was high but not overflowing. We stopped in at the fly shop and talked about flies, technique, and spots. One thing that shop owner said- that I thought was an important point- was that he liked nymphing shallower water. He also told us bead head pheasant tail and small caddis.

When the three of us got to the river it was heavily raining. After floundering for fifteen minutes in a pool I didn’t know well, I decided to take the shop owners advice and try out some shallower water. I walked to a spot where the Farmington splits into three and the far side has a nice long ripple with water 2-3 feet. Not many people fish this section but I usually have success.

I picked out a section in the middle, where the speed of the water wasn’t too fast, and started nymphing. I had an indicator 3ft up the leader with a split shot a foot down and a bead head pheasant tail on. I fished 2 feet away, then 2.5, then 3, then and 3.5. At 4 feet my indicator dunked down and I lifted my rod. To my surprise- consider the rainy conditions and the month- I was hooked into a nice brown. I landed it and Tom took a picture (which I will get soon and post).

Kevin, Angi, Chris, and I were the first ones on the river. It was dark when we arrived and I needed a headlamp to tie on my fly. The four of us staked out our spot and waited until it was legal to fish- 30 minutes before sunrise. Kevin and Angi’s generosity started from the very beginning and it didn’t stop until they left at 1. Kevin and Angi put Chris and I on the best spots and basically guided us the entire day.

I fished right under some fallen branches in a small eddy that faced a deep, heavy current. I fished a run right in front of me, drifting my fly over and over in the same spots. I kept on getting stuck on one large rock that started the drift off, but I knew that I had to get my fly right there every time if I wanted to catch a steelhead.

After about an hour I had only hooked into one fish and it came off in a second. I was starting to get worried that I wasn’t going to catch a steelhead even with the best spot and with the best help.

I flew another cast out in the run, right above the rock, and let it drift towards the large rock. My line stopped, like it had so many times before, and I tried to wiggle it free. Then I yanked at it a couple of times but it moved. It moved a little but I still thought it might be the current playing tricks on my eyes. I looked up at Kevin and back at my line. It still didn’t move much but started heading up stream. Again, I thought it was the line just stiffening in the current. It must be a rock.

“You’re on.” Kevin yelled down to me and turned to Chris and said, “He’s on but thinks it’s a rock.”

I was on. The fish sat on the bottom and slowly headed up stream. I could feel its power and knew that it was a large fish. I stared at where my line hit the water. I stared at the water around it and nothing else. The fish started again upstream then turned and shot downstream into the pool below. I was on.

Kevin came running down and Angi pulled his line out of the water. It fought like a lumbering old fish- it sat deep and didn’t move much. Kevin suspected, because of the way it was fighting, that it was a big male. I didn’t care and just kept on staring at my line.

I was fishing an 8-wt rod with 6 lb tippet but it was my first big steelhead and my nerves made it feel like I was fishing with 3 lb tippet- I wasn’t going to lose this fish. The fish sat on the bottom, in heavy current, and wouldn’t budge. It sat and then turned downstream. It sat, then turned again.

"Here we go", Kevin said, "we are going to walk this fish downstream, across the river, and into that large eddy on the otherside". So I started walking while still watching my line go deep into the bottom of the pool. I still hadn't seen the fish but it felt so strong and big. I walked it down past a couple of fishermen and then kevin and I entered the water. He grabbed a hold of my waders as we walked into thigh high water and into the current. The fish crossed with us but instead of going into the designated eddy it continued downstream and into faster waters. It had other plans. I held on tight and started hustling with it downstream. By now I was somewhat helpless- a fish of this size and with this heavy current had full control and all I could do was hang on and run.

"Ok, now we are going to land it on that gravel bar," Kevin said while pointing at a gravel bar sixty yards downstream. Kevin ran past me and planted himself on the gravel bar. He started directing where to pull the fish like one of those runway light guys.

With almost twenty feet of line out I pulled the fish towards Kevin and into the gravel bar. If I missed this landing spot I would be in major trouble and forced to run another fifty feet downstream and into a deep pool. Luckily, Kevin grabbed this beautiful 8-9lb male by the tail and I had finally landed my first big steelhead. All the emotion of the fight came out and I couldn't believe the feeling, more of relief then of joy, a combination similar to post-adrenaline rush.

Kevin handed me the fish and we took a couple of pictures and let the beautiful fish go. To my amazement it swam away as if nothing had happened. I, on the other hand, needed a second to recover. I took in the moment and thought about the two days fishing last year, the two days this year, and finally fighting this steelhead. It was a long battle which made it feel even sweeter.

I walked back up and was met with congratulations from Chris and Angi. They had both watched as I walked this fish 200 yards downstream and for 20 minutes of struggle. "Now it is your turn Chris," I said.

I put Chris in my spot- after I told a guy who filled the spot to get lost- and showed Chris where I had hooked into mine. Not too long after Chris landed a nice female on a 5 wt rod, not an easy task considering I used an 8 wt.

We fished until around 430 and I landed two more steelhead and missed several others. My last fish, a nice female, spooled line out so quickly that it actually cracked the bearing in my reel. I managed to land it even though the reel wouldn't budge. It was an unbelievable day and I want to say thank you to Kevin, Angi, and Dave for a classic Steelheading trip.

On the river Chris and I met up with my buddy Dave. He woke up at 3 in the morning and drove 3 hours to get there before sunrise. He is an excellent fisherman and I was happy to see someone who might help me out. Dave, however, was too excited to fish and spent the entire day fishing by himself. I couldn’t blame him but I struggled and went 0-2 for the day.

The entire day I spent watching two guys on the other side of the river land fish after fish. It was getting ridiculous. They must have hooked over 30 fish. I was extremely frustrated and exhausted from fishing straight from 7am to 5 pm. I could use some advice for our last day of fishing.

Before we left, Dave was taking Chris and I back to his hunting and fishing lodge for the night, he started talking with the two guys who caught all the fish. Apparently they were friends of Dave’s.

On our way back to the hunting lodge Dave told us that he introduced Kevin