An UnBelizeable Adventure

I don’t fish saltwater much. But now I guess you could say I’m a convert. Nine of us ventured to Belize, C.A. (that’s Central America, not Canada or California) the last week in March to fish the flats, mangroves and reefs of the Caribbean. We stayed at the Belize River Lodge (BRL), a beautiful mahogany lodge embraced by palms and coconut trees, tropical flowers and birds of every description. Howler monkeys (which we heard) and tapirs sometimes ventured in close to us in the jungle behind the lodge. And there was a resident crocodile. While only 10 minutes from the airport, it seemed a world away as we had to cross the Belize River by boat to get there. We enjoyed the local Belikin beer as we got settled in.

On our first day, Moirajeanne (MJ) Fitzgerald and I went out to the Tarpon flats and mangroves in pursuit of Tarpon and Snook, but after several passing cold fronts and rain, the fish must have been confused. We found a nice bonefish flat and soon discovered what our guide, Jose, meant by “tailing fish” and “nervous water”. A large group of bones were visible about 50 feet in front of the boat. My first cast was a little too far to the left, so Jose said to cast again. With no false cast, I shot the line back to the right. “Strip, strip, strip” said Jose, in an urgent but soft voice, and a moment later I hooked my first bone! It seemed just like TV: reel screaming, I was into backing in a hurry above aqua water so blue you have to see it to believe it. MJ got a bone also, so we were both elated that we had broken the ice.

The next day, I went out with Nick DelleDonne and Jose…the skies looked ominous, and there was a heavy downpour out in Tarpon Cove. So we headed for the shelter of the nearby marina where the BRL keeps one of its two mother ships, in this case the Christina, which was in the process of an overhaul. We waited on board the Christina for the rain to subside, and after the skiff was bailed, went back out in pursuit of Tarpon. We could see several rolling, their pectoral fins clearly visible. Nick was up first…casting is done from a 23 ft skiff with an outboard and poled by the guides when near the quarry. Nick got a hit on a weighted giant black wooly bugger type fly…we were startled to see he had caught a catfish! I didn’t know there were catfish in salty water. 

I was now up, casting a 10 wt Loomis with an orange grizzly Seaducer. After a couple of casts and strips, I felt a thud and kept my hand still…Nick said he could “feel” I was going to hook into something soon (how many times have you heard that?).

I felt heavy weight on the other end but didn’t see the fish. Some line went out and off to my far right, I saw this large Tarpon jump. I said, “Did you see THAT?” I looked back at Jose and he had a huge grin on his face and said, “That’s your fish, Miss”. I could hardly believe it. How did it get over there so fast? Line really started to peel out now and I tightened the drag as Jose started the motor. After about an hour of applying side pressure in various directions and following Nick’s experienced guidance, I finally started to see my fly line, not just backing. The fish jumped spectacularly 4 or 5 times and I managed a bow (or curtsy?) as required. Later I was dismayed to see the fish wrapped in the leader, thinking for sure I’d lose him. 

I had him hooked in the upper snout, and Jose said that is the best way to have them hooked, which was a comforting thought. My wrist was really starting to hurt and my abdomen was so bruised, I couldn’t find a comfortable place for the rod butt. The heavens opened up again and I struggled to keep my contact lenses on my eyes as salty water ran into them. A few times I told Nick I didn’t know how much more my wrist could take, but he said, “You are going to land this fish!”. Then, the sun came out, and Nick helped me off with my jacket as the fight continued. Finally, at about 2 hours into it, the fish neared the boat…now the real fun began.

Once the fish neared the boat, he would circle it, go under it, go around the bow or stern, dive, etc. A few times, Nick saved my rod from sure demise by grabbing it, paying out line and pointing the tip in the water, because I had no place to go (fast) when I was in the back of the boat and there were chairs and people in the way. Finally, I could get the tarpon to roll over and he started to gulp air… 

Nick “oohed and aahed” as he saw just how big a Tarpon it was. Nick caught one like it last year. Jose was ready with the gaff, but as I strained to lift the head up, I couldn’t sustain the lift for more than a few seconds and the fish thrashed as soon as he saw the big hook.

After four gaff attempts, including one that ripped out, the gaff was lost overboard in a fifth attempt. I was starting to feel a bit panicked. Now what? I offered Jose my gloves, but they didn’t help. I suggested somehow roping the fish… Jose got a length of rope and tied a bowline in it… Nick saw that I could no longer lift the fish, so he took the rod up to the casting platform in the bow and lifted the Tarpon high as Jose tied the rope around the tail. To my utter relief, they heaved the Tarpon into the boat, Jose (who is only about 5 ft 3” and 130 pounds) crashing to the deck. 

Jose remembered to get two scales for me and we released the fish after shooting a few pictures. Jose guessed it was easily 100 pounds. The Tarpon took about 5 minutes to revive before swimming away gracefully. I don’t know if Jose was just trying to butter me up, but he said it was the largest Tarpon caught by a woman in his ten years of guiding. Pretty cool, but I couldn’t take all of the credit because without Nick and Jose, and a LOT of luck, that Tarpon would have been lost. Other fish were caught, some very nice, but this one will live with me forever.

Sufficiently recovered from my two and a half hour tarpon adventure, the next day, I went solo with John as my guide so that MJ could fish with Nick. I say sufficiently, because fully recovered would mean that I had full feeling back in my left hand…that still hasn’t happened yet. I asked John to go a bit easy on me since I was still a little sore, and I knew I’d be doing a lot of casting since I was by myself. John and I started the morning searching for Snook in the mangroves and near the old rusty submerged barge. Although Snook are smaller than tarpon, they too have abrasive gill plates, so I used my trusty orange grizzly Seaducer on a 60 pound shock tippet. Still a bit rainy off and on, I put my foul weather gear on and chucked the fly under the mangroves. March and April are supposed to be the dry season, but short rain spurts continued and would thankfully come and go quickly. Snook fishing is not unlike bass fishing in heavy cover, skipping flies under overhangs. They like structure but I was a bit concerned that with the weather, they would be hiding deep in the mangroves out of reach.

I flipped my fly under a mangrove but it curled around a branch. As I worked to free it, it plopped into the water. “Smash!” A Snook hammered the fly before I could make a cast. Snook like to ambush, apparently. It was an average Snook, but I think they are so beautiful, with the swooping Nike-like stripe along their side. John said it was a little too small to keep for the table (it is the best eating fish, they say), so Mr. Snook returned to the water. A few minutes later, I cast my line near the barge and had another Snook grab my fly…this one was a little smaller, but still lovely. Some Snook can get quite large…40 inches is possible.

As we poled along the mangroves, John alerted me, “Three Snook, three Snook!” and pointed to their position toward the rear of the boat…I saw them and with my rod ready, walked toward them, forgetting that I was standing on the raised casting deck at the bow. I walked right off the platform, crashing into the bottom of the boat, rod in hand. I was ok, but I think of more concern to John was whether my rod was ok. It was…the Snook were long gone but we had a good laugh!

It was soon lunchtime so we agreed to head for the Permit/Bonefish flats and eat lunch on the fly. It was about a 45-minute boat ride. The rain was done and the sun came out. We got to the Permit flats: a hard rock bottom with turtle grass and some spots of white sand. But we were unable to find any Permit. Toward the mangroves at Long Middle Caye, John spotted from tailing Bonefish. He asked if I wanted to wade, and I said “sure”, so he anchored the boat and we softly waded to within casting distance of the Bones. They seemed very preoccupied with feeding…much easier to catch them in this state rather than when they are cruising. I fired a cast with a pink Crazy Charlie in their direction… before I knew it I was hooked up and my backing was showing up. Wow… my first Bone while wading, I thought. It was a real runner. As I quickly reeled in, he went on another run. When I finally got him in, it was a chunky 4 or 5 pounds. John snapped my picture as I struggled to hold the fish, sliming my pants with what seemed like fish glue. I returned to the boat and we resumed our Bonefish quest but had a hard time finding fish. We did a little Snook fishing on the way back too, but were unable to turn anything up. We returned to the lodge at about 6 pm very tired but happy.

The next day, MJ and I went out with John. We were out in Permit water not far from the reef, and didn’t find any. So we decided to rig up MJ’s spinning rod with a Yozuri plug and on my rod, we rigged a sinking tip and wire leader with a needlefish imitation fly and went trolling. We made a few passes and I thought I felt a couple of whacks on the fly…or was it the bottom? We turned and I felt a really big “whack”. I told John I had a fish and he stopped the motor as my line zipped out from the reel at high speed. Once the initial run was over, I felt a heavy fish and reeled as hard as I could on my 10 wt. As the fish got closer, I realized I had a slim-profiled fish on the other end…a ‘Cuda…a nice one. John gaffed it and it was about 40 inches long…with very, very scary looking teeth. John thought we should keep it for supper so we did and it fed the lodge guests the next evening…a very delicious, delicate white meat superbly prepared with a garlic crust. We fed the carcass to the croc…quite exciting, those snapping jaws!

After catching the ‘Cuda, we went in search of bones…John had only half filleted the fish, but saw a boat coming so in order not to lose his spot in a nice shallow lagoon, we beat it for the lagoon where we found incredibly “skinny” water, but it was suitably “nervous”. The Bones were cruising for the most part. When they were tailing, we were able to get a cast off without spooking them. MJ got a nice one and it was my turn…I got into a fish, and it ran quickly as usual but this time, made a right turn right around a mangrove or two. The fish didn’t feel tugging and stopped, but my line was hopelessly trapped in vegetation. Actually, it was MJ’s line, since I was using her rod because the fly she was using was working. John decided he could jump in the water and free up the line, even though he sank in the mud up to his knees (not something I would have done for a measly Bonefish). We got the fish in and it was a nice Bone… and kept on trying for more Bonefish but they were really just too skittish. We headed home and fished for, but didn’t catch, Snook on the way. Tomorrow would be another day.

I made my desires known that I wanted to try for Permit on the last day…the one fish that had eluded me the entire week. I went out with Dottie D’Orazio and Jose for my last day fishing. It was a beautiful morning and would turn out to be the best weather of the trip. We planned to go out to the reef so I put my snorkeling gear on board (forgetting my throw-away underwater camera). On the way out, though, Jose wanted to try the Tarpon flats…he is definitely fond of the silver kings. He said it was a Tarpon kind of day which means low wind, glass-like water and sunny. 

Dottie and I had turns at the casting platform. I had my orange grizzly fly on (my confidence fly) and after several strips, had a hit right at the boat and I saw a large bucket-mouth open up on the fly! However, instead of leaving the rod tip down, I lifted it and missed the fish. I swore a little and looked back at Jose, who made the strong strip-strike motion with his hands. “Ok, Jose, Ok”, I muttered to myself. We saw more Tarpon rolling everywhere… lots of fins! Again, I got a strike but couldn’t set the hook. It’s a lot easier to hook-set when you don’t see the fish and get all “feverish”. And anyway, how was I going to handle an 80 pound Tarpon while still recovering from a large Tarpon battle only a few days before? Frankly, I was kind of relieved.

The Tarpon settled down or moved, so we decided to head for the reef at Gallows Point. Jose patiently poled the boat as we searched for Permit just within the reef barrier. We saw divers and snorkelers on the other side of the reef, but the water looked a bit rough. Suddenly, Jose anxiously said, “Permit, two, in front about 60 yards!” Dottie was up and cast her fly, but the wind was a bit strong…she cast her Merkin crab fly again, but the Permit kept on cruising toward the reef and over to the other side of it. We kept looking… again, a few Permit came into view… they look black from above… I cast my Borski slider… and got a Permit to follow it… strip, strip, strip… follow, follow and then he turned away when he saw the boat. I had several chances like that, and they just refused to bite! On the second chance, the Permit followed and my line tightened and I thought “Finally!” only to discover a little yellowtail Jack decided the fly looked tasty. Well, it was a pretty fish, even though it was small. 

Jose poled the boat over toward the good snorkeling grounds for our lunch break. I donned my snorkeling gear and Dottie took a most unflattering picture of me with it on. I jumped into the 4 ft deep crystal clear water and found a world that was so beautiful it was hard to imagine it was real. I saw huge brain coral, immense conch shells, hundreds of kinds of colorful reef fish, and many types of corals and sponges in an array of colors. In one moment, it took my breath away and in another, I found myself so relaxed that my breathing slowed to a crawl. I checked to see where I was in relation to the boat and saw that Dottie had a hookup! I went under the surface and watched as she fought her Barr Jack. Cool! Fearing my back would fry to a crisp, I came aboard and ate lunch while we were entertained by a group of Pelicans.

Next, Jose decided that we would troll for barracudas. We rigged up a bait caster with a red tube lure and my fly rod with the “Cudalicious” fly (now with only a partial head, thanks to the last ‘cuda). Dottie got a hit! It was a nice one about 3 ft long. As we motored back to the flats and Snook grounds, we were astonished to find out that Jose had already filleted the Barracuda en route. We had two dolphins swim past our bow and had an enjoyable ride back. We looked for cruising Bones and saw schools of needlefish and a barracuda resting nearby. I quickly picked up my rod with the ‘cuda fly, and cast three times but the ‘cuda just sat there. On a fourth try, he decided to leave. Not interested. Still it was a great and memorable day!

That evening we ate the barracuda. It was delicious! After getting on the subject of cashews at dinner, Mike, our host, brought out some “private label” cashew wine…it tasted a bit like sherry. We would meet up with the “boat guys” (the four who fished from the Blue Yonder mother ship) the next day and trade stories, drink beer (even before 11 am!), relax, and think about returning next year before heading back to the airport for the trip home.

--Deirdre “Fishingmaniac” Lehman--