Soft Eyes
By Sebastian Sawhney
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Sebastian, Kendell, and David celebrate over a long-anticipated permit.
Photos: Knox Kronenberg.
Photos: Knox Kronenberg.
During my first trip, permit sensei Steve Brown told me something I would never forget. He told me that the secret to catching a permit is not wanting to catch a permit. Foolishly, I thought it was the dumbest thing I've ever heard. My thinking was that I had to be razor-focused and hyper-motivated every time I was on the bow of a skiff.
Eventually, I would present the fly correctly to enough fish that one would be pissed off enough to eat it. Anyone who has spent enough time chasing this fish knows they don't play by any perceivable rules or at least things we can currently understand. Permit fishing is part art and part science where there are no certainties.
About halfway through my second trip to Guanaja I had two near misses that frustrated me beyond belief.
One was a fish that ate the rubber legs off fly, biting it just enough to render the fly useless, but not enough to actually grab the hook. I remember my guide, Kendell, saying "it happens brother," and me thinking in my head, why does this keep happening to me?.
The day after, I handed the rod to my boat mate who had been having a rough day on the bow. He had missed a couple shots by a wide margin and trout set on a good size bonefish. I then witnessed a 10+ pound permit ascend from the bottom in about 10 feet of water to eat my boat mates fly. I had never seen a permit react so aggressively to a fly. Nonetheless, I was pissed. It felt as if permit were consistently sticking me the middle finger. I had almost given up at this point.
I was so disenchanted that permit slid to the back of my mind. I started taking more shots at triggerfish and box fish, instead of standing silently on the bow my eyes glued to the Horizon looking for black tails, I chatted with my guides and tried to enjoy the scenery while I fished. I still got excited when my guide called out "permit 72 o'clock 50 feet" but I had accepted not catching a fish and just appreciating the moment. I remember distinctly getting a rejection from what looked like the biggest permit I've ever seen but instead of being angry or endlessly probing myself for what I could've done better, I just acknowledged that seeing this monster permit tailing in inches of water was extremely cool. I didn't know it but I was finally ready.
The very next day I went out with guide Kendell to a wading spot that had produced fish the days before on a weaker tide. I had no expectations because I thought I had missed the prime permit window for that spot when it was much calmer, nonetheless I was excited to fish a new spot in a unique scenario. On the bank were piles of sargrasso seaweed and the fish would ride in the surfline and eventually go under the sargasso to feed on small shrimp and crabs caught in the weeds. You would see fish riding the waves the same way stripers do at home in New York. According to the people who were with me, the same school of permit swam behind my fly all the way up to the rod tip twice that I barely saw. I didn't get frustrated and I just kept waiting for my opportunity. Then it finally happened.
To be completely honest, I was so excited I kind of mentally blacked out while I was fighting the fish. To this day I do not remember strip setting and I spent the whole fight internally panicked that the fly was going to fall from the fish's mouth. I remember towards the end of the fight my heart stopping every time Kendell would try to grab the leader as I thought it was frayed and going to break.
Holding the fish, feeling the surf lap up against my back and looking at the beautiful Guanaja Mountains I felt a sense of deep satisfaction as a year's long mission has had finally been complete.
I've shown the picture of me holding the fish in the surf to my family, my girlfriend and friends and they've all given me the same response "damn, I've never seen you happier Sebastian". As I walked (or according to eyewitnesses skipped with joy) back to the boat to grab some Frescas for the group, I made the realization that what Steve said almost 2 years ago was completely correct. For the last three weeks of chasing this fish I wasn't ready but the moment I stop trying so hard and focused on just enjoying the amazing experience of Guanaja it was like something had opened up and I finally caught the fish in my dreams.
Eventually, I would present the fly correctly to enough fish that one would be pissed off enough to eat it. Anyone who has spent enough time chasing this fish knows they don't play by any perceivable rules or at least things we can currently understand. Permit fishing is part art and part science where there are no certainties.
About halfway through my second trip to Guanaja I had two near misses that frustrated me beyond belief.
One was a fish that ate the rubber legs off fly, biting it just enough to render the fly useless, but not enough to actually grab the hook. I remember my guide, Kendell, saying "it happens brother," and me thinking in my head, why does this keep happening to me?.
The day after, I handed the rod to my boat mate who had been having a rough day on the bow. He had missed a couple shots by a wide margin and trout set on a good size bonefish. I then witnessed a 10+ pound permit ascend from the bottom in about 10 feet of water to eat my boat mates fly. I had never seen a permit react so aggressively to a fly. Nonetheless, I was pissed. It felt as if permit were consistently sticking me the middle finger. I had almost given up at this point.
I was so disenchanted that permit slid to the back of my mind. I started taking more shots at triggerfish and box fish, instead of standing silently on the bow my eyes glued to the Horizon looking for black tails, I chatted with my guides and tried to enjoy the scenery while I fished. I still got excited when my guide called out "permit 72 o'clock 50 feet" but I had accepted not catching a fish and just appreciating the moment. I remember distinctly getting a rejection from what looked like the biggest permit I've ever seen but instead of being angry or endlessly probing myself for what I could've done better, I just acknowledged that seeing this monster permit tailing in inches of water was extremely cool. I didn't know it but I was finally ready.
The very next day I went out with guide Kendell to a wading spot that had produced fish the days before on a weaker tide. I had no expectations because I thought I had missed the prime permit window for that spot when it was much calmer, nonetheless I was excited to fish a new spot in a unique scenario. On the bank were piles of sargrasso seaweed and the fish would ride in the surfline and eventually go under the sargasso to feed on small shrimp and crabs caught in the weeds. You would see fish riding the waves the same way stripers do at home in New York. According to the people who were with me, the same school of permit swam behind my fly all the way up to the rod tip twice that I barely saw. I didn't get frustrated and I just kept waiting for my opportunity. Then it finally happened.
To be completely honest, I was so excited I kind of mentally blacked out while I was fighting the fish. To this day I do not remember strip setting and I spent the whole fight internally panicked that the fly was going to fall from the fish's mouth. I remember towards the end of the fight my heart stopping every time Kendell would try to grab the leader as I thought it was frayed and going to break.
Holding the fish, feeling the surf lap up against my back and looking at the beautiful Guanaja Mountains I felt a sense of deep satisfaction as a year's long mission has had finally been complete.
I've shown the picture of me holding the fish in the surf to my family, my girlfriend and friends and they've all given me the same response "damn, I've never seen you happier Sebastian". As I walked (or according to eyewitnesses skipped with joy) back to the boat to grab some Frescas for the group, I made the realization that what Steve said almost 2 years ago was completely correct. For the last three weeks of chasing this fish I wasn't ready but the moment I stop trying so hard and focused on just enjoying the amazing experience of Guanaja it was like something had opened up and I finally caught the fish in my dreams.
Sebastian Sawhney, 19, New York.
Sebastian is a student at Georgetown University studying government. Sebastian taught himself Saltwater Fly Fishing on family vacation in the keys and on his home waters of the Long Island sound.
Sebastian is a student at Georgetown University studying government. Sebastian taught himself Saltwater Fly Fishing on family vacation in the keys and on his home waters of the Long Island sound.