One day, fellow student Cooper, our guide Kevin, and I decided to wade a coral flat before lunch in pursuit of bonefish. After walking on top of a cement wall and cracking a bunch of jokes at each other, Kevin tied on his secret bonefish fly and pointed in the direction of a school of bonefish not too far from where we were. Cooper considered that it was probably better if he stayed behind on shore rather than coming along and wading, due to his foot, wasn’t supposed to get very wet due to medical reasons (although he completely disregarded this “rule” later). Kevin advised Cooper to be ready to jump in with the camera. With that, Kevin and I reluctantly started to trudge on without him.
We came across a few schools of bonefish and took several casts, but none of them ate. The coral and turtle grass flats were a beautiful mix of tan, green, and blue. It was paradise to look at, but the ripples on the water surface, it was challenging for my inexperienced eyes to spot fish. As Kevin and I began to fish between an island and a washed up coral-rock bar, we came across a narrow wooden bridge that connected the island and the bar. We climbed over it carefully. The bridge was about two to three feet off the surface of the water and was supported by small cement pillars. Its weathered surface reflected many years of wear from salt, wind, water, and heat. The bar broke the surf on one end and provided shallow water on the other. It was here that a narrow channel of shallow water and sand flat connected two wide flats: one towards the direction of Cooper and the cement wall; the other towards a more expansive opening of flat and surf where the waves flowed, instead of broke, over the shallow reef. This meant that the island and the bar acted as a funnel to anything swimming from one part of the flat to the next, placing Kevin and I in the perfect spot for any fish coming by. And it worked like a charm! A school of about 40 bones cruised into the channel, swimming towards the direction from which we came. I dropped a cast right in front of the school, and waited with a rapidly beating heart. Strip. Strip. Strip. Strip. Bump. All of a sudden, the line came tight and my bonefish shot off back in the direction it came from. ZZZzzzZZZzzzZZZzzz was all I could hear as my reel sang its own song of glory.
“Point ‘em that way, point ‘em that way. Don’t touch that, don’t mess with the drag. Crank ‘em now. Crank ‘em now, crank ‘em! He’s comin’ right atcha! Look at that, buddy!” Kevin took a step forward from my side, reached out, and grabbed the bonefish.
“YES! LET’S GO!” I screamed.
“WOOHOO!” Kevin shouted.
I paused for a second to take in the moment. I took a deep breath of the sweet, salty sea I had learned to love. I couldn’t believe it! I had caught my first bonefish!
Kevin and I started the walk back to where Cooper had stationed himself on the cement wall to get pictures of the fish. I was smiling ear to ear.
“Some people get to walk their pugs, man, but we get to walk a bonefish!” remarked Kevin.
I laughed. “You’re right, man. You don’t get to do this every day.”
As we neared the wall, I took off running for Cooper. I shouted and splashed my heart out on the way back. “COOPER!” I yelled. “COOPER! COOPER!” I hopped up onto the wall (which was a struggle to do without ripping my pants). Cooper was not in sight, so I started sprinting towards the boat since I figured he would be there. I skidded to a halt when I saw him out of the corner of my eye sitting to my right. He had nestled himself between a bush and what was left of a thin pine tree, and for some reason, had decided to watch the animated cartoon South Park. I thought that he would have heard me and all my racket, but somehow, he hadn’t. “Cooper! Cooper! Come on, man! Hurry, dude, hurry!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Why, what’s up?”
I thought the situation had become inherently obvious. Then again, the dude had been watching South Park on an island in the Caribbean, so I suppose his question held some validity. He ran along the cement wall after me and towards Kevin where he stood with the bonefish still tethered to the leader. Cooper had found some discarded, washed up flip flops and put them on. Still wearing them, he had run into a problem. The coral would undoubtedly destroy his feet if he walked in. Thinking quickly, Kevin told him to run back to the panga to grab his Crocs. With every second I squirmed inwardly, anxious my bonefish might swim free before we could get a photo. Cooper returned running atop the cement wall a fast 45 seconds later. Cooper threw on Kevin’s Crocs, completely blew off his supposed “rule” about his foot, and hopped in the water. Excitedly, he waded out to where Kevin and I stood.
As Cooper readied himself to take a pic and Kevin and I posed, the bone squirmed and flipped out of my hands. Slight issue: the hook was already out of its mouth. In a split second decision, I started chasing it. I really, REALLY wanted a picture with my first bonefish! At this moment, I felt the dense resistance of water on my legs. I struggled to keep up with the bone. Completely forgetting the water was all of two feet deep, I decided to go all in, and dove into the water. Barely missed it. I ran after it one more time, and lunged down. My fingers closed around, and I picked it up out of the water. Kevin and Cooper went crazy!
Cooper had captured the scene on video. We were all shouting, yelling, hollering, screaming, celebrating like mad. We got some stunning pictures, and I released the bonefish. I watched it glide away slowly, increasing in confidence, its silver-gray body shimmering beneath the waves. It was incredible. And all of a sudden, it was gone, just like the gray ghost I had begun to know it as.
My heart was pounding. This was it. I had done it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Turquoise blue water, sandy tan bottoms, coral flats. Waves crashing behind me, excited guide and friend, laughing and high-fiving, breeze through the trees on the island. Salt, sweat, and sunscreen. Heat from the sun, splash of water on my legs, slimy bonefish hands. All of this was a dream to me, and all of it was now. All of this I had dreamed of once. Right then, the dream was real, physical, present. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
I looked up from the crashing surf, sand and coral, and salty, turquoise water to see Kevin and Cooper already a good distance away on the cement wall. I chased after them, excited and thrilled to pursue more of that Guanaja magic.
We came across a few schools of bonefish and took several casts, but none of them ate. The coral and turtle grass flats were a beautiful mix of tan, green, and blue. It was paradise to look at, but the ripples on the water surface, it was challenging for my inexperienced eyes to spot fish. As Kevin and I began to fish between an island and a washed up coral-rock bar, we came across a narrow wooden bridge that connected the island and the bar. We climbed over it carefully. The bridge was about two to three feet off the surface of the water and was supported by small cement pillars. Its weathered surface reflected many years of wear from salt, wind, water, and heat. The bar broke the surf on one end and provided shallow water on the other. It was here that a narrow channel of shallow water and sand flat connected two wide flats: one towards the direction of Cooper and the cement wall; the other towards a more expansive opening of flat and surf where the waves flowed, instead of broke, over the shallow reef. This meant that the island and the bar acted as a funnel to anything swimming from one part of the flat to the next, placing Kevin and I in the perfect spot for any fish coming by. And it worked like a charm! A school of about 40 bones cruised into the channel, swimming towards the direction from which we came. I dropped a cast right in front of the school, and waited with a rapidly beating heart. Strip. Strip. Strip. Strip. Bump. All of a sudden, the line came tight and my bonefish shot off back in the direction it came from. ZZZzzzZZZzzzZZZzzz was all I could hear as my reel sang its own song of glory.
“Point ‘em that way, point ‘em that way. Don’t touch that, don’t mess with the drag. Crank ‘em now. Crank ‘em now, crank ‘em! He’s comin’ right atcha! Look at that, buddy!” Kevin took a step forward from my side, reached out, and grabbed the bonefish.
“YES! LET’S GO!” I screamed.
“WOOHOO!” Kevin shouted.
I paused for a second to take in the moment. I took a deep breath of the sweet, salty sea I had learned to love. I couldn’t believe it! I had caught my first bonefish!
Kevin and I started the walk back to where Cooper had stationed himself on the cement wall to get pictures of the fish. I was smiling ear to ear.
“Some people get to walk their pugs, man, but we get to walk a bonefish!” remarked Kevin.
I laughed. “You’re right, man. You don’t get to do this every day.”
As we neared the wall, I took off running for Cooper. I shouted and splashed my heart out on the way back. “COOPER!” I yelled. “COOPER! COOPER!” I hopped up onto the wall (which was a struggle to do without ripping my pants). Cooper was not in sight, so I started sprinting towards the boat since I figured he would be there. I skidded to a halt when I saw him out of the corner of my eye sitting to my right. He had nestled himself between a bush and what was left of a thin pine tree, and for some reason, had decided to watch the animated cartoon South Park. I thought that he would have heard me and all my racket, but somehow, he hadn’t. “Cooper! Cooper! Come on, man! Hurry, dude, hurry!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Why, what’s up?”
I thought the situation had become inherently obvious. Then again, the dude had been watching South Park on an island in the Caribbean, so I suppose his question held some validity. He ran along the cement wall after me and towards Kevin where he stood with the bonefish still tethered to the leader. Cooper had found some discarded, washed up flip flops and put them on. Still wearing them, he had run into a problem. The coral would undoubtedly destroy his feet if he walked in. Thinking quickly, Kevin told him to run back to the panga to grab his Crocs. With every second I squirmed inwardly, anxious my bonefish might swim free before we could get a photo. Cooper returned running atop the cement wall a fast 45 seconds later. Cooper threw on Kevin’s Crocs, completely blew off his supposed “rule” about his foot, and hopped in the water. Excitedly, he waded out to where Kevin and I stood.
As Cooper readied himself to take a pic and Kevin and I posed, the bone squirmed and flipped out of my hands. Slight issue: the hook was already out of its mouth. In a split second decision, I started chasing it. I really, REALLY wanted a picture with my first bonefish! At this moment, I felt the dense resistance of water on my legs. I struggled to keep up with the bone. Completely forgetting the water was all of two feet deep, I decided to go all in, and dove into the water. Barely missed it. I ran after it one more time, and lunged down. My fingers closed around, and I picked it up out of the water. Kevin and Cooper went crazy!
Cooper had captured the scene on video. We were all shouting, yelling, hollering, screaming, celebrating like mad. We got some stunning pictures, and I released the bonefish. I watched it glide away slowly, increasing in confidence, its silver-gray body shimmering beneath the waves. It was incredible. And all of a sudden, it was gone, just like the gray ghost I had begun to know it as.
My heart was pounding. This was it. I had done it. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Turquoise blue water, sandy tan bottoms, coral flats. Waves crashing behind me, excited guide and friend, laughing and high-fiving, breeze through the trees on the island. Salt, sweat, and sunscreen. Heat from the sun, splash of water on my legs, slimy bonefish hands. All of this was a dream to me, and all of it was now. All of this I had dreamed of once. Right then, the dream was real, physical, present. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time.
I looked up from the crashing surf, sand and coral, and salty, turquoise water to see Kevin and Cooper already a good distance away on the cement wall. I chased after them, excited and thrilled to pursue more of that Guanaja magic.