Bonefishing the Bahamas: A Retrospective
While Grady was off gallivanting around the Florida Keys Margaritaville, and Declan was shouting to the rafters about his ground fish addiction, I was on a puddle jumper southbound from Miami International Airport. The destination was one of the larger, and yet more secluded, Bahamian islands by the name of Eleuthera. The quarry? Bonefish. I was white-knuckling a copy of Do It Yourself Bonefishing by Rod Hamilton on the plane, which is generally considered to be the preeminent resource for self-made Bonefish expeditions. Being a bleeding-heart New Englander with only a few years of fly fishing experience under my belt, I figured that I needed all the help I could get. I didn’t just want to catch the fabled ghost of the flats; any retirement-aged schmuck with a pending divorce, an old flats shirt and more than one unemployed kid could get it done with a loaned rod, a factory-tied fly, and a good guide. No, I wanted to do it alone, with a fly I tied, at a spot I picked, and with the knowledge I had gleaned from my book and the helpful folks at my local fly shop, Concord Outfitters. As I gazed down at the rapidly-brightening Atlantic Ocean below the plane, I realized that we were traveling directly over a massive flat - the first I’d ever seen - and the primary location for a bonefish encounter. I swear I almost charged the cockpit to get us down there.
Once a veritable bonefishing Mecca, Eleuthera isn’t the secluded island it once was. On paper, it checks all the bonefish boxes - it’s remote, being one of the outermost islands of the Bahamas, it’s far south enough to avoid most cold fronts (which wreck the fishing, I’m told), it has 100 miles of coastline on either the Atlantic or Carribean side, and it’s easily traversable, with a road called the Queen’s Highway that twists and turns up the spine of the island. The Queen’s Highway is a game-changer, because it allows access to nearly every fishing location on the entire island within an hour or two. If the tide or wind direction/intensity is unfavorable (as it often is in the Bahamas), it’s easy to hop to another location on the other side of the island. However, Eleuthera is rapidly becoming a tourist destination as well as a bonefishing one. I counted 6 other anglers on my small plane, and I’m sure they were there for the same reason that I was.
My family, girlfriend and I spent a week on the island. I packed light - comfortable, breathable shirts and swim trunks are all you need. There are a few necessities when fishing the flats - a good pair of polarized glasses (I recommend Costas), a pair of neoprene wading boots, a sun shirt with a hood, and a pair of pliers were my main kit, along with my trusty Orvis Clearwater 9 weight rod. For line, I chose RIO 9 weight Striper floating line. This isn’t a typical bonefish setup, with most anglers preferring an 8 weight with true bonefishing line, but I was on a budget. Bonefish leader is a must, however, and the longer the better on Eleuthera, as these fish have seen more flies than you can imagine. I also packed some general 15lb mono leader, and a RIO toothy critter leader for inevitable barracuda encounters. For flies, I tied up an assortment of Gotchas and EP Spawning Shrimp in various colors, and bought a few permit flies from Concord Outfitters. An assortment of streamer-style flies that I use for Striped Bass and False Albacore completed my kit; I figured I had a little extra space and they’d be fun to experiment with.
What’s left of the flies I used in Eleuthera.
DIY Bonefishing, Rod Hamilton’s magnum opus, provides a wealth of bonefishing advice for the novice flats fishermen. I could rewrite the book here and waste your whole day, but I’ll summarize with the most important pieces of information I picked up. First is to walk the flats as slow as possible so as to avoid spooking fish. You will not see every single bonefish you come across; they seem to appear and disappear at will into the sandy texture of the flat, and something as small as the glimpse of a fly line in the air above their head can cause them to spook. Next is to fish when the sun is as high as possible; although you risk a sunburn, the high angle of the sun allows for the bonefish to stand out better, and you can occasionally see their shadows too. As the sun starts to dip, the flat light makes it incredibly difficult to spot fish, so you have a short window if you’re inexperienced at spotting them like I am. Finally, the biggest single tip I picked up is that you don’t always need to strip a fly to provoke a strike. In heavily-fished locations, bonefish have seen flies stripped too quickly by eager tourists and can recognize when they’re being deceived. Instead, opt for a fly with some longer hair or legs that will move on its own with the current.
Through either sheer dumb luck or extraordinary skill, I managed to catch one small bonefish on the first day of the trip by fishing a small Atlantic flat near the house I was staying at. I used an EP shrimp, dead-dropped with no stripping, into a deeper section of flat. I’m not ashamed to say that I did not sight cast to this fish; it took my fly and started running before I knew what was happening. I couldn’t believe the fight on this fish - it ran so quickly that my reel came unseated and the drag went out, and I had to put the brakes on manually. When all was said and done, I landed the 14 inch fish and fell to my knees in astonishment.
Short but sweet.
I was hooked. I couldn’t believe the speed and the strength of such a small fish. I fished the same flat for the rest of the day, and spotted a few fish, but had no more luck. Unfortunately, a cold front hanging just to the north of the island shut off the fishing for the next few days, bringing clouds and heavy wind to both sides of the island. I still walked the flats and practiced sighting fish, although I had no luck until the second to last day of the trip. I was again fishing the north side of Eleuthera, this time in a smaller bay-style flat that was loaded with juvenile permit that I was really sick of catching at this point. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a grey flash - the telltale mark of a bonefish. As quickly as I could, I cast my fly 10 feet in front of what my untrained eyes believed to be it’s nose and let it sink.
Fortunately, my eyes proved to be correct when the grayish blob of a fish moved in the direction of my fly. My instinct to strip was pounding at the back of my head, but I didn’t give in. I simply watched as the fly sunk, the fish twitched, my heart stopped, and the fish bolted. I was into backing before I could blink. The fight was a blur, but the video was crystal clear.
The fish would’ve clocked in at around the 4 pound mark if I had to guess, and pound-for-pound was one of the hardest fighting, fastest fish I’d ever caught on a fly rod. I can’t wait to do it again some day.
