In the morning I had stale coffee by the hotel pool in the company of mocking birds and a grackle. I flew into Dallas the night before and can’t wait for another fly fishing adventure to the Yucatan. At the airport I meet up with Tuck, Bailey and Ryan after their incoming flights from Reno and Portland. This is Tuck’s third trip with me to Mexico, but Ryan and Bailey’s first flats fishing experience. We’re headed to Xcalak, Mexico, all the way to Belize practically, to fish for bonefish, permit, tarpon, jacks and barracuda. We chat excitedly on the plane, on a new route to Tulum; more direct, bypassing Cancun. These guys slept in their own bed this morning and we’ll all arrive tonight at our destination in one simple day of travel. We added an extra couple days of fishing because of the new simple route.
We landed in the jungle, a straight grey line in the expanse of shifting green, with a turquoise Caribbean out the plane window. Warm tropical air greeted us at the new, gleaming airport. We waited for our bags at the carousel then bought a couple waters before Manny, my trusted driver ushered us to his AC’d van and the jungle drive south. We stop in the little town of Felipe Carrio Puerto to stock up on some extra things – a few snacks, a case of water for the rooms (its hot in May) and a few more beers. It was Cinco de Mayo and we enjoyed the parade in town for a few more minutes before continuing south.
Bouncing through the little village of Xcalak the smell of sargasso greeted our noses and Francisco, our accommodations manager warmly greeted us in front of the restaurant palapa like old friends.
Settling in before dinner we noticed the cabanas had been updated with new grout, linens, brighter lights, and paint. A welcome update, the Caribbean is a harsh neighbor for a building. The frond roofs and generous slatted windows collect the sea breeze and keep the rooms comfortable.
That night down at the beach front restaurant we enjoyed fresh caught parrgo (snapper), rice, and farm grown sautéed vegetables washed down with Margaritas before we were off to bed for our first day of fishing.
A Yucatan jay popped her head out the hole in the palm tree immediately outside my window and chattered at day break. A grackle shortly answered. The breeze, the one I had fine tuned through the slats a few times last night was the same temperature as the air, warm. But even at 6:30am, it was relentless. I had hoped we might have a break from the 20-30mph steady winds but alas it was not to be today.
We all stumbled into the restaurant around 7 to grab a strong coffee and get our breakfast order in. Huevos rancheros for me, I think the others got omelets. The guides would pick us up at 8 and we still haven’t strung our rods, tied on flies or packed our boat bags.
It was good to see Reuben again a seasoned guide in Xcalak. He’s a guide’s guide. He brought along Felipe for our second boat, who has eyes like an osprey. You’ve got to have good eyes in this game. Tuck and I jumped in with Reuben, while Ryan and Bailey were off with Filipe. We’d meet up for lunch at the Mirador, the look out in the bay later on.
Starting a day fishing for bonefish is so fun. Especially to shake the cast out, and probably have a few fish. The bay bones fish aren’t huge, 1-3 lbs with the occasional 4-7lber but they are plentiful. Once we found a large pod in one of the many secret lagoons Rueben knows like the back of his hand, Tuck cycled through some of the many flys he tied while I stuck with a crab. We went fish for fish for a few hours until we made our way out to deeper permit water.
Close to lunchtime and the Mirador, we saw our first group of Permit. They were thugs, 10 big fish. They were cruising a little fast so not a great shot. Later, 5 minutes? More permit. Different permit, also big. Surprise backhand shot, but the fish saw the rod wave and scramed. A minute later, more fish at the point, a tail! Long cast, the fish kick off, they must have seen us leering from the boat. Another cast, we’re getting frantic, we have a follow! No eat, cast again, a follow, heart in my throat! The fish behavior changes, they kick again and they’re off…
We’re late for lunch but we’re at the Mirador. The other boat is anchored drinking cold cervesas.
BARRACUDA!! Scramble for the cuda’ rod, 10wt. chug the popper. Cuda’ is not interested.
Alright, alright, cool it. We’re here all week!
Lunch on the boats is a simple but always delicious. Shrimp or chicken tacos, Fanta, nacho Doritos. Cervesa. Porque Mexico.
After lunch, Tuck is up, and we begin cruising a likely edge for maybe bones, but probably Permit. Before long, nervous water, 1 o’clock, 100ft, its coming! Tuck struggles to see, but he sees at 70’ and makes a cast. “Strip!” says Reuben, “Strip!” “Cast again, 2 o’clock, 60 feet.” “Strip!” He calls again, but the fish are gone. A pole push, and were scanning furthur along the mangrove edge. Nervous water again, this time at 4 o’clock, moving left 50 ft! As the school of permit come into view, shimmering shapes and black fins, Tuck makes a cast, but aided by the wind at his back, he’s long! The school is 30 fish deep. He strips, strips, strips! And comes tight!
Tuck has been here before, but isn’t sure it’s a permit, Bonefish often hang with permit and pick your fly on the edge. But quickly, we see a black fin 100 out and its surely a permit. We snap a few choice shots with Reubens new ”Cazador” boat logo and let the fish swim away…
After talking deep into the night about our first day fishing, we awoke ready. Coffee, breakfast ordered, mess with a few things, and get to the dock on time!
I jump in with Ryan in Filipe’s boat as Tuck and Bailey are with Reuben. Filipe picks a favorite tune to blast in the custom Panga speakers for the ride out, and were off! A short ride has us in the bay, looking for permit off a likely point.
Ryan has fished Baja a few weeks so is familiar with casting heavier rods. His 9wt is rigged with 16lb for permit, we have a 10wt stashed with a popper and wire, and I have two other 9wts.
I always help look for fish, even when I am not up to bat. We’re scanning when Filipe spots jacks marauding the inside, behind us on our 6. They dash off so we keep scanning. 10 minutes later, moving left, 40ft, 9 o’clock, back hand shot! Black tails, 3, no 6 fish! Ryan lands the crab on a tail. The fish kicks off but there is another behind! The fly is intercepted, but its a jack crevall who’s with the permit, a mixed school!
Ryan had hooked a big jack yesterday, and knew what he was in for on 16lb. Ideally for a jack you have heavier line so you can pull harder on them. They’re not picky eaters like permit. After a 40-minute skillful tussle, we’re close, but the leader is frayed from rubbing coral on the 200 yard runs and the fish pops at the boat. At least we touched the leader!
We spent much of the rest of the day looking for permit, seeing a few and even getting a shot to fish ocean side where the wind had calmed in the afternoon. The session highlighted with a big permit that Ryan made a beautiful shot followed by a few tailing trigger fish on the stunning reef.
Back at the dock, our buddies in the other boat had wrangled with tarpon all morning and had lavish stories of jumping dozens of fish on gurglers.
Day three of fishing broke calmer. After breakfast we wiped our 9wt lines with an armour-all rag I brought to keep them smooth from the sticky salt. I was with Bailey and Filipe today while Ryan and Tuck were off with Reuben.
The calm day allowed us to fish off the front and the magical blue Caribbean. Protected by the Mesoamerican reef, the near shore flats host lots of permit. The mornings shots were mostly surprising as a fish appeared from a dark to a light bottom. Bailey, new to fly casting but a college baseball player, was struggling with his double haul and quick shots. I had a couple follows when I was up. We decided to retreat to the bay for lunch, and maybe fish for bonefish. Along the white sand of the inner bay, we spotted a huge pile of a couple hundred bonefish and anchored the boat to pester them for lunch.
Getting out and wading is a great way to get closer to fish. These shallow water fish are keyed into threats from above, but in the water, you can get much closer, often within 40ft.
Bailey took position and was immediately into a bone! With Filipe on his elbow, I took position 100ft away and made some casts at the fish. A fun but somewhat frustrating 10 minutes transpired where the bones would bite my little shrimp, I’d have them for a brief moment, and they would be off. I switched to a crab and bingo, big eats! They ate the crab much harder and I pulled 5 or so out of the crowd.
Like many of the most magical moments in fly fishing, the next 30 minutes were a bit of a blur.
Bailey was posted up casting when I looked across the flat and saw black finned torpedo’s, backs out of the water, charging up the bonefish flat. “PERMIT” I yelled and charged the thigh deep water on an intercept course. Filipe quickly was at my elbow as I made my first cast. I had changed my fly again a moment earlier to sample a new shrimp and knew it was not the right fly for the permit. It was too light and small, these fish were eating hard and making a ruckus. They swam off without seeing my fly from several well placed casts.
Frantically, we waded along with them as Filipe plucked a crab from my hat and tied it on while moving. The fish stopped and I made a cast. He followed! I cast again at the rooting fish and my line tightened for a second then went slack. The fish had kissed my fly! But then the fish were moving off again and Filipe and I were left dumbtruck.
We waded back to the boat while a long cast away Bailey was still rooted to the same spot, railing bones.
At the boat Filipe and I with his broken English and me with my semi-functional Spanish asked the gods what had happened. They were good shots. Really good shots.
A while later and after a cold CocaCola, Bailey waded back to the boat and we hopped in to search further down the flat. But not 30 seconds into loading up, Filipe spotted permit at 300 feet making a huge mud cloud!
“Lets go” he yelled, and we were in in a dash, wading waist deep. At 60 ft I cast into the mud and the mess of permit tails.
But where was my fly? Shit I didn’t have a fly!
In the boat seconds before I was re tying my rig with fresh leader, lighter because of my previous refusal. I had jumped into the fray before tying on a fly!
Filipe ripped the same crab the permit had kissed earlier from my hat and tied it on. He’s shaking. I’m shaking. The permit were moving closer. We backed up. They kept coming, we kept backing. Finally, with the fish 40ft away, I had a fly! I cast right into the middle of the gang of thug permit. They were big, tails up, feeding like crazy. But no eat! I cast again, letting my crab slow sink, just pulling slack out, and the line came tight! I strip set and the fish was off in a bolt. I had to clear 30ft of extra line as the reel hit the drag. A few soft adjustments on my Galvan to tighten up as backing ripped off at astonishing speed. These fish run fast!
After 10 minutes, the thrill was over, but I still had 150 yards of backing out and had followed the fish halfway to Belize.
Eventually, Filipe in his undersized net managed to scoop the permit. Celebration! Bailey had waited a patient 45 minutes to take a picture, which Filipe then insisted to have his boat in the background. We waded the 1/3 mile back to the boat and so, I had my first permit of the trip, what a rush!
The only thing left to do was to go try to catch a tarpon for the Grand Slam. I’d never had a slam, so I felt pretty detached. After the permit I could have gone in for one of Francisco’s margaritas, but I guessed tarpon were at least along the way.
After a short run with music blaring, we crept into a back lagoon that was oddly quiet, secluded from the incessant wind. The quiet was stilling and not long after entering the lagoon, we spotted a group of small tarpon working a mangrove edge. I was up as Bailey was kind enough to allow me first shots and I capitalized! It was a small tarpon but a slam non the less. Cool. We caught a few more tarpon from a couple small schools and made in for the evening’s libations. And Lobster. Francisco had dove the reef for us that day and dinner was spectacular.
Our fourth day of fishing broke windy and cloudy. Not very optimal sight fishing conditions. We acknowledged at the dock that nervous water and tails would be our only salvation. We’d have a tough time seeing much in the water past 50 ft. Today I was with Ryan and Filipe and Tuck with Bailey in Reuben’s boat.
The other area guides had much the same game plan to avoid the wind. There were quite a few boats on the sheltered flats. Filipe crept away from the other boats and we had our first shot of the morning, three happy bonefish. Ryan quickly got a 40ft shot out at 12 oclock. The first two fish followed, but feigned off. A third fish came to inspect and pounced! A nice bone fish, even nicer considering the conditions.
Later, after a few hours of not much, I was at the bow with a bonefish rod when a large solo jack was spotted cruising. Ryan deftly grabbed the rod rigged with wire and a streamer for Barracuda and made an epic quick shot to the jack. In an instant the jack swirled around and annihilated the anchovy. Line screamed from the bottom of the boat and as the line cleared, it caught the handle and the fly popped. He broke 20lb. Damn jacks are strong. Most of the rest of the day was a wash, but we did find a few tarpons to wrap up with and then enjoyed another beautiful evening on the steps the of the Caribbean.
Another day on the flats breaks. Dreams of Permit. Maybe sun today? The clouds have broken some, but the wind is still with us. Demaciado viento.
I mixed up my usual breakfast and enjoyed huevos Mexicana before a.m. ablutions and rod prep. The ritual was engrained. Meet 10 minutes before the guides, armour all and re stack lines, and hastily sunscreen up. By now we respected the sun and were covered up. A few were nursing good burns on their legs, noses and shins.
Today I was with Bailey and Reuben, and we wanted to go bonefishing.
Reuben in classic style took us deep into a sequence of lagoons, where I easily got turned around. The morning was still and quiet save for the occasional frigate bird, osprey, or mangrove finch. After an hour of searching Reuben found a school of a hundred bones flashing happily in 2ft of water. These opportunities were priceless for Bailey and over an hour or so he really had a chance to fine tune his double haul. Releasing the right amount of line on a cast, maintaining load, and then shooting line had been tough, but all it clicked here and 70ft became a real shot for him. Nice!
The bones were back eating on my crab. After a few more bonefish we went through a couple of those choice flies when a small barracuda would rushed the fly and severed the tippet. I’d have to tie a few more in the evening. As per usual, the fly I have most confidence in on a saltwater trip is the one I tied the night before…
Today, like most days, the Woodpecker poked is head out of his hole and welcomed the light. I’d decided to tie a few more of my special crabs in the morning before breakfast. From my ziplock bag of materials and travel vise I quickly spun some rubber legs, EP and thread into a couple quarter sized crabs.
I wouldn’t use it much today, we caught a few bones in the morning, but the tarpon in the lagoons were happy and rolling so Tuck and I stuck a few and called it a day. Fishing the flats is tough when its cloudy.
Where did the week go? Our last day fishing. Our routine was so dialed. Coffee, breakfast, gear, dock at 8. Ryan was willing to look hard for permit, the one fish he had not caught on the trip, so Tuck elected to fish with Bailey while we went permit fishing with Reuben.
Today Reuben would start our day in dirty water looking for tarpon. We did indeed see a few and Ryan made some great shots, but the tarpon were feeding lackluster, and even after a long peruse on the reef side flats, we saw no permit and headed into the bay.
We scanned what seemed like miles of permit water with hardly any other boats around. The other lodge had a changeover day today.
Finally, after one more permit drift, Reuben suggested we wade for bones. With this wind and tide, there would be big ones in close. We anchored the boat, donned our shoes and spread out in a delta shape to walk a hard 2ft flat next to a mangrove edge. I was on the deeper water side, and hoped to see a permit. Reuben held the Cuda’ rod and Ryan scanned the inner mangroves.
One of the neatest things about fishing on foot is how much closer the fish let you get. Our first bones appeared in front no less then 20ft away. Too close in fact, the flash of the cast sent them scurrying. Further down, Ryan spotted a nice solo cruising the bank. He let out a cast and stripped a few times with no eat. Again, he cast, this time more left, stripped and was on! The big bone ran the bank to his backing in one smooth move. A few tussles and another run and Ryan had him secured. Ghostly and pale, it was one of the best bones of the trip.
After lunch and a few more hours burned looking for permit, we hung our heads and asked Reuben to take our last hour or so and go bonefishing.
We chugged into a skinny lagoon and got to fishing. Just 100 yards into the lagoon we saw flashes ahead and a few small sets of bones flanking the main pod.
The shots were beginning to present and I was up so I peeled out some line to get ready when Rueben called “permit! 9 o’clock!” I had been looking at two o’clock and was about to cast at some bones when a squadron of medium sized permit pushed over a skinny spot into the flat at a perfect 9 o’clock, 60ft cast. As the permit entered the gang split and started rooting around. I made a cast between them right as they split and my fly was left there unseen. I tried to read the fish and their direction as I stripped in for my next cast. Most fish moving right. A couple left. I picked up and threw at 12. Strip, strip, I see fish running under my line! Strip, strip BAM! But I’m too tight, my strip set is too much! The fish ate it hard, and like a gunshot, I broke my fly off and line shot back to the boat in a heap. I was out, and the permit had taken my last little crab.
But Ryan still had a shot and stepped up to the bow. The permit were still somewhere in the flat. “There!” cried Reuben, but too far. They came in and out of sight before disappearing to deeper water.
We continued to scan near and far in what was now a calm, hot afternoon with little wind and good sun. In the distance a few hundred feet away, I thought I spotted a permit tail. Then it was gone. A ripple, nervous water, then gone again. A minute goes by and again, a tail! 12 o’clock, 200 feet! I jump out of the boat retied and Ryan stays at the bow. By now two distinct groups of fish had appeared, cruising, tailing and pushing around. I wade away and made a few casts on the far group but a bone snakes by shrimp. I’m screwed, but maybe Ryan on the bow? A few frantic minutes later the permit have disappeared again and we’ve just about run out the clock.
For one last play, Reuben thinks the permit might have gone across to the other point so we putt over there and take a look. With Ryan at the bow, we see nervous water again! Ryan is jacked, pumping an 80ft cast that goes beautifully until the last loop catches his big toe. The fly is 20ft short. Again, he casts, long, but he is stepping on the line! A few more casts, but the fish are moving away and out of reach. They disappear into the deeper water and Reuben says in a final tone “reel it in, it’s time to go.”
The cervesa tasted oh so good on the short ride back to the lodge. At the dock Bailey and Tuck had equally fun stories to share of their last day.
Over a few too many margaritas, Tuck expounded long about the pod of bonefish Bailey and him worked for an hour and the barracuda that opened a 4/0 hook. Apparently, the bonefish commotion attracted a 5ft barracuda and when Tuck had cast the popper to him he played cat and mouse with it. After several shots which the cuda’ charging the fly then backing off, at 30 feet the fish ultimately devoured the popper. He screamed away at a speed only a barracuda can go. IYKYK!
Chef was kind enough to prepare us some breakfast tacos for the van ride the following morning to Tulum. We were happy to have something in our stomach.
Manny’s brother drove us up the jungle road in record time, to the new airport sparkling at the edge of the jungle. The scenes melted by the window as we began compiling what were now memories of an unforgetabble saltwater trip. No doubt, we will repeat it next year in 2025!