Guest Report by Hootie Hoo of our Bahamas trip last week. All photos by Jason Hawkins and Chris Lewis
It had been a mild winter.
About a week before this brief shindig was to happen,
I joked with my buddy that bad weather seems to follow me no matter where I go.
It came of no surprise that the weather forecast looked like this:
45 degrees?!? In the Bahamas? Get fucked.
The goal was of course a double digit bonefish, as it always is. This is the time of year to get one, so say the experts.
With the shitty weather in mind, we set our expectations low. Real low.
It was decided that we (Tex and a blue collar friend that doesn’t do fishy chat rooms), if nothing else, were going to eat conch and drink beer.
And if a bonefish came to hand, high fives all around. Or whatever.
Every trip starts out with airport coffee. The blue collar and I ordered coffee, black, “like we like our women” he says.
Tex orders a low-fat, extra hot, white chocolate venti peppermint mocha. We’re well on our way to success.
Traveling in boat shoes and the Louis Vuitton of the Bahamas lets people know you’re important and mean business.
Until you get crammed in coach.
We land, in the rain, and drive, in the rain, to find bonefish, in the rain.
We weren’t about to do it the easy way with guides and boats and packed lunches.
So after a few wrong turns and a few “I think we can get the rental through there”, we hiked in.
After cutting our way through Vietnam, we arrived to find mangroves, some white sand and a little grass.
Seems fishy enough. At least the rain stopped.
Tex hooks up first after about 15 minutes with a calm “I’m on” shouted at just the right decibel level so that I could hear it.
He loses the fish to the only small downed tree within miles.
Expectations for the trip rise.
I hook up next by casting 4 feet behind a cruising fish that’s coming at me and then dragging the fly past the fish to the correct position in front of it’s face.
Tex is amused at my skills.
One more fish comes to hand before it starts to get dark and we cut a path back to the rental.
The next day brings more rain and clouds. But we have the use of a small 14′ skiff, so things are looking up.
Despite a 25hp tiller, the skiff only goes about 6mph. It’s a long boat ride to where we want to go.
We put around from spot to spot. It’s cloudy, but the sun peaks out for a few seconds now and then as a cock tease.
When we do spot fish, they eat. They’re small but we still share high fives.
The wind picks up greatly and we start the long journey home. Waves crash over the skiff. A Pringles can is used to bail water.
We discuss what would happen if we got stranded. Burning the piece of shit boat for warmth is high priority.
Cold and wet we get to the ramp. It’s time for a feast.
Day 3 and 4 we’re back on foot. The cold winds are up, but at least the sun peeks out to warm us up a little.
A few of the double digits that we’re after are spotted, but they’re educated to our shenanigans. Ain’t nobody got time for that.
We settled for some more small fish.
A few others
Artsy and shit
Here are few more of mine…