 Our
first day on the water was quickly coming to an end and
all I had to show was a reddish tinge on my well
winterized, lily white skin. Somehow I had the feeling
Braggert blamed me for the lack of tarpon. "Let's
try for a bonefish," Braggert suggested. I was ready
for any sort of a change, and certainly not about to
question the captain.
I
don't know if I was ready for Braggert's favorite spot,
however - an oceanside flat, right next to the beach and
a U.S. Navy fighter jet runway; star wars style machines
screamed over us like locusts and it seemed we were in
the middle of a staging area for World War III.
Braggert
poled along the beach for a few minutes then suddenly
began pointing toward the rear of the boat and shouting
something that was incomprehensible above the roar of a
passing jet. I didn't see a thing, but not wishing to
incur the wrath of what obviously appeared to be a
demented maniac, I flopped a fly about 20 feet in back of
the boat around the spot he was wildly indicating.
"Twitch
the goddamned fly," he shouted into the momentary
quiet, but at the same decibel level he had used with the
jets overhead. Anticipating a blow from the push pole, I
stripped line. "He took it," Braggert blasted.
I hadn't seen or felt a thing. Prepared for one of the
bonefish's legendary 200 yard runs, I was tense as a
banjo string and trying to remember Braggert's
instructions and the mass of material I had read.
Nothing
had prepared me for what did happen next. My bonefish,
acting more like Katerina Witt or a dog chasing its tail,
did a quick series of tight figure eights. Then the line
went slack. Just as I was turning, meekly, to ask
Braggert's forgiveness, my bonefish bolted for Cuba like
a miniature torpedo, pushing an incredible wake and
leaving a rapidly lengthening coral mud trail. Amazingly,
I was still connected. Details escape me but eventually
the fish came to net.
....weak
moral fiber came to the surface
when Braggert pronounced, "We'll check this one
in."
Certainly
this was no classic bonefish encounter, but the fish
turned out to be the largest entered in the Key West
fishing tournament that year. I had intended to release
my first bone but weak moral fiber came to the surface
when Braggert pronounced, "We'll check this one
in."
A
glutton for punishment, I even returned to Key West for
the awards presentation dinner. Fortunately, no one asked
me to describe my encounter with the prize-winning fish,
and any remotely suggestive question was immediately
fielded by Braggert who watched over me like a father
whose youngster has a gun in his hands for the first
time, or a campaign manager whose candidate inadvertently
took a dose of truth serum.
Curiously,
neither the circumstances surrounding that first
bonefish, now plasticized and located on my office wall,
nor guide Braggert, still poling lily white, awe struck
novices around the flats, turned me off to the sport. In
fact, chasing bonefish around in inches of water has
become somewhat of an obsession over the intervening
years. If nothing else, I've learned that first
impressions are not always the most accurate or reliable.
 This quest for bonefish has taken
me to exotic locations in Mexico, Belize and other far
flung waters that are home to the ultimate sport fish.
I've learned a great deal, perhaps most importantly that
some of the best bonefishing in the world may be within
sight of the Miami skyline in the southern reaches of
Biscayne Bay.
Strangely,
most bonefish guides and most visiting fishermen will be
somewhere between Islamorada and Key West, but Islamorada
is on the fringe of the good bonefish waters and
bonefishing deteriorates as you travel west in the keys.
Key West can't compare with waters closer to Miami when
it comes to numbers of big bonefish.
The
term "big bonefish" is somewhat relative; I'm
thinking in terms of fish in the eight to 12 pound class,
with an occasional specimen that might top one of the
IGFA line class or tippet records. I'll pinpoint a couple
of areas where these trophies may be found, but first
let's take a look at our elusive, temperamental quarry.
presto, a
bonefish appears
Many
fishermen have read about bonefish, but only a relative
few have had the opportunity to hunt them. Like carp,
bonefish are equipped for bottom feeding but they prefer
morsels such as small crabs and shrimp to the vegetarian
diet of the carp. Streamline the body of a carp, give it
silvery scales, a set of crushers behind the rubbery
lips, an incredible afterburner, and presto, a bonefish
appears.
Fishermen
love bonefish because of eating habits that bring them on
to shallow flats in search of a meal. In clear, often
inches deep water, any fish is likely to be skittish.
Approach a bonefish without caution and it will disappear
faster than my brother-in-law when a waiter drops a check
on the table.
Bonefish
move on a flat either singly or in schools that may range
up to hundreds of fish. Big schools tend to contain
smaller specimens, fish in the two pound range, and are
not generally seen in the Florida Keys. Big bonefish are
often loners but pods of three to five fish are fairly
common.
The
idea is to move along a flat, either wading or in a boat,
and search for feeding bones. Once the fish are spotted
one must get close enough to present a fly without
spooking the dinner party. Some guys anchor or stake-out
on a known bonefish area and wait for the fish to come to
them, even chumming them into casting range with broken
pieces of shrimp tossed into the water.
Shrimp
attract bonefish in much the same way
a mini-cam works on politicians
If
bonefish have an Achilles heel, it is fresh shrimp.
Shrimp attract bonefish in much the same way a mini-cam
works on politicians - both are irresistible attractants.
But using shrimp on bonefish is akin to hunting deer over
bait - takes all the fun and sport out of the game.
Plenty
of bonefish are caught from a boat, but once fish are
located a wading fisherman has a much better chance of
getting close to them. When standing perfectly still,
I've had bonefish approach with five feet before they
spooked. Most casts will be in the range of 40 to 90
feet, so fly casters need to achieve some measure of
proficiency before tackling bonefish.
One
of the trophy bonefish haunts I promised to mention is
the ocean side of Largo Sound in Key Largo's John
Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, within sight of the
hustle and bustle around the park marina and recreation
areas. This is a strange place; strange in the sense that
the area is easily accessible, protected from strong
winds, is regularly patrolled by big bonefish and - the
strangest part - does not receive much fishing pressure.
Largo
Sound is not white bottomed, classic bonefish water.
Bones here make the Invisible Man look like a neon sign
in the middle of the desert on a cloudy night. The dark
bottom makes spotting fish extremely difficult.
Fortunately, many fish will be found moving and feeding
along the edge of the mangroves in very shallow water and
their wagging tails give them away. The idea is to
determine their direction of travel and throw a fly from
five to ten feet ahead of their path.
I've
resorted to prayer on numerous occasions.
Remember
that the visibly tailing fish may not be the only bones
in the immediate vicinity. In dark bottomed areas with
poor visibility, an otherwise perfect presentation to a
feeding bonefish may spook other, unseen fish. There is
really no solution for this problem; you can only make
the cast and take your chances. I've resorted to prayer
on numerous occasions.
Typically,
after a cast the tailing may stop and it's necessary to
wait a few seconds to allow the fish to approach the fly.
Intuition helps, so does experience, but when you finally
twitch the fly with short, snappy, paced strips of the
line, nothing beats the burst of excitement when a sudden
swirl agitates the surface and a wagging tail appears
over your fly.
Now
is the tricky moment. Too many fishermen tend to try and
set the hook at the slightest line resistance. This can
be a mistake, as the bonefish may not actually have the
fly in its mouth. Keep up the short, snappy, paced
strips. There will be no doubt when the fish is actually
hooked - the line will come up solid, like you snagged a
mangrove root.
At
this point you can be prepared for anything - from a
fancy, figure eight swimming display, to all sorts of
erratic movements, generally climaxing in the
torpedo-like, straightaway run for deeper water.
I
remember one fish that I hooked on a flat dotted with
mangrove shoots. It shot directly away from me, actually
toward more shallow water, did a high-speed one eighty,
then zipped by within inches of my left leg. My fly line
was still wrapped around mangrove shoots some 50 yards
away at the spot where the bonefish had performed its
abrupt about-face. I walked the path taken by the fish
and eventually landed the 11 pounder, a freak catch made
possible by a heavy leader, a lightly set drag, 200 yards
of backing, and more luck than any man deserves.
There
is also good ocean side bonefishing off Key Largo. Access
is via narrow creeks on the north and south ends of Largo
Sound or other local marinas. Upper Sound Point on
Rattlesnake Key is a good spot to try on a falling tide.
On the incoming tide try Whitmore Bight and all of the
shallows along the ocean side of El Radabob Key. The
bottom is generally brighter on the ocean side and fish
are easier to spot, especially through polaroid sun
glasses.
....the
fish was so big I was sure it was
a shark until just before it spooked.
Another
relatively overlooked haven for big bonefish is the
extreme lower end of Biscayne Bay. I missed the
opportunity of a lifetime here several years ago by not
casting to a bonefish that had to be near 15 pounds - the
fish was so big I was sure it was a shark until just
before it spooked.
Access
to this area is via the public ramps at Homestead Park in
Homestead. Bear right on the open water just outside the
marina and head for the long point that extends out from
the mainland at an electrical power station. Off to the
left is a large mangrove island with a good sized, grassy
flat on the mainland side. Look for bonefish all over
this flat as well as around the mangroves on the mainland
shoreline.
Knowing
where to go and proper techniques are only part of the
bonefish equation, however. George Rowe, a
retired-to-Michigan airlines employee from the Miami area
who concentrated on bonefish for nearly 20 years,
believes tides are the single most critical factor.
"Traditionally one fishes for bonefish as the tide
rises," he explains. "There are some places
where you may find fish at dead low tide but usually the
fish will come on the flats with the tide.
"Experience
is the only teacher. After you get to know an area you
will discover certain patterns. I have a mental picture
of what's happening on any given flat at any stage of the
tide. Some flats, for example, are only good for an hour
or two; I tend to move around, trying to be at each flat
during the prime feeding period."
When
the tide first begins to come on a flat the fish will
feed more actively and you normally have a better chance
to see them tailing. By the time the tide has become full
the fish tend to do more cruising than feeding and are
difficult to locate, especially in grassy or dark
bottomed areas. And with bonefish, if you can't see them,
you can't catch them. "By high tide I think they get
over the sharp part of their hunger and are just cruising
around looking for an odd goodie here and there, being
much more selective," Rowe adds. "On lower
water you'll see these guys just burrowing into the
bottom, almost like a robin roaming about a damp lawn in
search of worms. That's when bonefish are most
vulnerable, and the fisherman's chances the best."
Approach
flats with caution. Cut the engine while still in deeper
water, at least a hundred yards from the shallow feeding
areas and then work quietly toward the flat with a push
pole or electric motor. The electric saves work in
getting to a flat, but the push pole remains the best bet
for moving around once you get there.
Bonefishing
can be frustrating. When the fish aren't there and the
sun bakes your brains, or when gale force winds make life
miserable, you may momentarily envy the "couch
potatoes", comfortable at home in front of the TV.
Addicts are out in anything short of a hurricane, eyes
glued to the water. Newcomers need to be especially
cautious; searching for bonefish is like searching for
gold - once you make a minor find, the search becomes an
obsession.
TRIP
PLANNER
General
information about Largo Sound may be obtained from John
Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, P.O. Box 487, Key Largo,
Fl. 33037, telephone (305)451-1202. For boat and canoe
reservations contact Coral Reef Park Co., P.O. Box 1560,
Key Largo, Fl. 33037, telephone toll free (800)432-2871
from Florida, or (305)451-1621 from Key Largo area or
other states.
Late
summer fishing can be very good and bonefishing even
improves as the fall months bring relief from the
sweltering heat. Summer is also the time for taking
advantage of off-season rates. Area information is
available from the Key Largo Chamber of Commerce, Mile
Marker 103400, Overseas Highway, Key Largo, Fl. 33037,
telephone (305)451-1414. Contact the Chamber for their
free booklet with information on motels, parks,
restaurants and fishing guides, for those who would
rather not go for bones on their own.
For
general information about the Homestead area, contact the
Greater Homestead-Florida City Chamber of Commerce, 650
U.S. Highway 1, Homestead, Fl. 33030, telephone
(305)247-2332.
Stu
Apte's book "Fishing in the Florida Keys" is
also an excellent reference.
 
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