It was the day after Thanksgiving, I was sitting on the couch, with a serious Turkey hangover, and watching reruns of The Office, when my phone chirped with an incoming text message; it read, “Belize spot is open if you can make it work, think about it. Already paid for. I leave on Sunday.” The text was sent by my good fishing buddy, Aaron.
I read it again. Did he say leaving on Sunday? As in two days from now? It made me laugh. The idea of leaving for Belize for ten days with two days’ notice was too ridiculous to take seriously. Aaron had been talking about this trip for months. He and his girlfriend had booked it almost a year in advance, and now, just two days before they were to leave, she couldn’t go… So, I could potentially be his girlfriend’s substitute. Again, I laughed at the proposal.
But then he sent me a YouTube video of where we would be staying. The Cayo Francis Farm and Fly. It looked like a slice of Caribbean heaven with a charming blue house nestled in palm trees right on the water–water where you could catch Bonefish, Permit, Snook and Tarpon all in a day.
I shook my head, sighed and put the phone down. I couldn’t see how it could happen. I had a lot of work to do on the documentary I am currently editing and I would need to find someone to take care of Charlie, my pup, because both my roommates were out of town. To top it off, I was stressed about money because I had just started this silly new fly fishing company. Even if it was all paid for, I knew I would still be spending money. But in the back of my mind, I told myself, what kind of idiot would turn this opportunity down? I decided it was at least worth a call to my bosses, to see what their reaction was. Their reaction was somewhat predictable, my bosses are good people, and they told me what I already knew, if I don’t go, I am a special kind of stupid.
The pup sitting situation was quickly resolved as well, when my old roommate volunteered to help, and my current roommates said they would be back after a few days to fill in the gap. So, before I knew it, I was going to Belize. It still didn’t feel real. I don’t think it felt real until Aaron and I landed in Belize City, where we were to catch a small “island hopper” plane to San Pedro and then be picked and taken to the camp.
The first thing we did while waiting for our small plane was buy two Belikins. A Belikin is the most common Belizean beer, in fact, it is so ubiquitous it might as well be on the country’s flag. I didn’t really get the appeal, it was just a light lager comparable to your standard Mexican beer, but it went down easily, nonetheless. Then we were on the small plane flying over Belize City and shortly after landed on Ambergris Cay, in the city of San Pedro.
San Pedro is probably the most well-known, tourist traveled town in Belize. The beach is lined by restaurants, bars and hotels. But it’s not glamorous, most of the hotels and bars are more funky than fancy. We spent the night at the Sandbar Hostel, which was cheap and had a great bar, where Aaron and I played Gin Rummy and drank more of those Belikins until we had eased our excitement enough to sleep.
We were picked up the next day by Jeff, the owner of Cayo Francis Farm and Fly and driven by Panga (a small boat) twenty minutes to the camp. The camp is on the same Cay as San Pedro but is so remote that a boat is the only way to access it.
Pulling up to the camp is special. A mangrove channel suddenly opens up to a small bay, where you get your first glimpse of the blue house and cabanas surrounded by those palm trees. It would be easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look. At the end of the camp’s dock was a colorful mailbox with a tarpon painted on it. We were greeted by a pack of tail wagging dogs, and a Belizian man named Andreas, who tied our boat to the dock and took our fly rods.
The inside of the blue house was filled with fly fishing photos, books (including one about Belize written by Jeff’s girlfriend, Rebecca), a small bar with local rum, and a dining table where we sat for a short orientation by Jeff. The camp is run off of solar power, breakfast is at 6:30 am, lunch and beer will be packed for us, and dinner is at 6:30 pm. That was pretty much the gist of it. The camp does not come with any sort of guide–it’s a do it yourself camp–they supply you with a paddle board, some knowledge of the water and the rest is up to you.
After the orientation we were sent off to explore the flats surrounding the camp and get used to fishing from a paddle board, which neither Aaron nor I had done before. Although a paddle board rookie, this was Aaron’s third time fishing in Belize, so I let him show me the ropes. The only saltwater fly fishing I had previously done was off the shores of Mexico looking for Rooster Fish, needless to say, flats fishing is a completely different kind of endeavor.
That first day, Aaron would point out a Bonefish, or a wake from a fish, and I would just stare blankly at the water. We didn’t see much but at the end of the day Aaron had found a few Bonefish and managed to bring one in. I, on the other hand, didn’t even get a follow.
That night we were treated to a masterful dinner by the camp cook, Marvin. Before starting the camp, Jeff worked as a chef and you could tell he and Marvin took our meals seriously. Afterwards we retired early to our cabana, wiped out by the day of traveling and fishing.
The next morning, we ate breakfast and headed out on the paddle boards again. It was a windy day, which isn’t ideal for any kind of fishing, but especially saltwater flats fishing. Eventually we managed to find a protected bay and spotted some Bonefish. Aaron made a few casts and connected with another nice bone. I was beginning to get an eye for them too, and the next Bonefish I spotted ate my small crab fly with force. The fight in this fish totally took me off guard, I knew that it wasn’t big, but it fought like some of the biggest trout I had ever landed. After a few minutes, I was able to get it in and I jumped in the water to take the fly out of its mouth.
Fishing for Bonefish has to be one of the most satisfying types of fishing there is. They aren’t easy to catch, but if your fly is presented decently, they will aggressively take your fly and that fight is unlike any other fish pound for pound. I was happy to spend the whole week catching these silver ghosts.
Aaron had another ghost on his mind–Permit. He had caught a couple of small Permit with a guide on each of his previous trips to Belize but had never landed a big one. And the idea of landing a big Permit “DIY” was consuming him. But despite being told there had been a lot of Permit around lately, we hadn’t seen anything. We covered a lot of water with no luck. This is when I really started to understand the appeal of those Belizian Belikins.
And then, on our way back to camp, as the sun was setting, we saw them. Two or three Permit tails were sticking out of the water, as their noses were buried in the sand digging for crabs. We tried to be as stealthy as possible, but we quickly learned that it’s pretty damn hard being stealthy on a paddle board. You had to put your oar down between your feet, pick up the anchor and thread it through a narrow hole, and then get your rod out. By this time the Permit had heard us clunking around and were moving away from us. Permit have a reputation of being one of the hardest and most elusive fish to catch and I was beginning to see why.
The next two days were exact repeats. We wouldn’t see any Permit until paddling back to camp at the end of the day, when we would see this same group, in the same spot. We got better at sneaking up one them each day, but to no avail. I was convinced these fish had our number–they knew we were going to be there each evening and knew better than to eat our flies.
The last day we were there, we decided to forget about the damn Permit and just have fun catching Bonefish. And so we spent the day catching bones and drinking the Belikins that were packed in our coolers. It was a great day. I was more than content. But I could tell Aaron was a little bit disappointed he hadn’t been able to connect with one of those big Permits. We had had our shots, that’s for sure, it just didn’t happen. Just before heading back to camp, Aaron got into a nice boner that took him for a ride. I watched him fight the fish and then decided to paddle down a ways looking for a bone of my own. But then – I saw them–those prodigal Permit. I knew this was my last chance at catching one, so I took my time. I got off my paddle board and crept in the water slowly.
I was getting close to casting range, when Aaron landed his Bonefish and then began paddling out towards me. I pointed to the permit and his eyes went wide. He anchored up but graciously let me stalk them because I had spotted them first. I finally got within casting range and made one cast. It was ahead of them, so I let the fly sink. I can’t say for sure, but something I did must have spooked them because the next thing I knew, they were off. And they were headed right for Aaron.
Aaron got his rod out, made one cast, and the next thing we knew his line was screeching out of his reel. Even though I had blown my chance, the joy and excitement of Aaron hooking up was as if I had hooked into it myself. After fifteen or so minutes of some of the hardest fight in a fish I had ever seen, Aaron was able to get the Permit close enough for me to grab. This was an incredible fish and I was so pumped to have just helped Aaron get the big Permit he had been dreaming of for months. Back at camp we celebrated with Jeff and the crew with a Rum toast… Or three.
