In a world filled with over 30,000 species of fish, it may be hard to believe that some fish can in fact make a fly angler’s hands shake when seen, or make a heart beat excessively when a tail slowly peaks out of the water.  Although I find both adrenaline and excitement when I spot a fish that I am targeting, this past week in Ambergris Caye, Belize was a trip for the ages.  Not only is any fishing trip with my dad my favorite way to spend time in this world, but catching a fish of my dreams made it even sweeter: permit.  This week consisted of four full days of fishing in Ambergris Caye, Belize, with the target species being permit.  With March known for school of migrating permit entering the flats, and with a week off for my final spring break of my college career, this trip seemed too good to be true.  However, as the week went on, we soon learned that catching permit would be a reality for the week.

As for the first day of fishing, we discovered that heavy winds would be our major obstacle for the week.  Although the weather was in the low 80s and the sky was scattered with both sunshine and cloud cover, the winds were relentless and averaged 15-20 knots daily.  After spotting a couple of large permit on the move and making some good casts that led to refusal, we realized that spending the first day chasing bonefish would prepare us for the week ahead.  Having fished for bonefish significantly in Belize in the past (three previous trips), we soon found ourselves in the backcountry searching for pods of hungry bonefish cruising the shoreline.  Although the wind made casting difficult into the wind, we were able to land six bonefish throughout the day on small “Christmas Island” shrimp patterns and light-weighted “Bonefish Cookie Crabs.”  Not only do bonefish put up one of the best fights relative to their size, they truly are a fish that amazes anglers with their beauty and sense of serenity when landed.

Day two of fishing would turn out to be one of the best days on the water that I have ever experienced in my entire life.  The day started early at 7:30 and we began searching for schooling permit in deeper channels between sections of flats.  Although the occasional permit was seen, these fish were extremely spooky due to the sunlight, and decided to move to another flat and wade fish in hopes of being able to not spook the fish.  Upon arriving at our new flat, I noticed a massive shape in the water about 40 feet from where we stopped the boat.  Huge barracuda.  I decided to grab my 9 weight Orvis Recon that was recently purchased for my dad’s birthday present, and tied on a massive baitfish pattern that I had created for fly fishing for tiger musky and pike back in Colorado.  Our guide instructed me to tease the fish on the first couple of casts and pull the fly away so that the barracuda would be looking to eat rather than getting spooked.  After teasing the big fish and finally noticing anger on his end, I casted, stripped fast, and whack…fish on.  We landed the barracuda after a 15 minute fight, and this would be the fish to get the skunk off our backs for the rest of the day.

The rest of the afternoon would become the highlight of the trip.  After eating a brief lunch and drinking orange Fanta and Belikin beer on the boat, we began idling towards a section of flat in which our guide said permit will sometimes school up in.  Upon arrival, we noticed a massive section of nervous water on the flat, along with one other boat frantically casting off of the bow unsuccessfully roughly half a mile down the flat.  We decided to anchor the boat, and see if the section of nervous water came our way.  And sure enough, at 21 years of age, I would soon be landing my first permit.  The nervous water turned out to be a school of roughly 100-150 permit, who were quickly moving down the flat, and I let out a cast roughly ten feet in front of the school of fish and let the fly sink.  One strip…two strips…line goes tight…permit on!  After roughly a five minute fight, I had a beautiful, truly flawless permit in my hands, and after a couple of pictures to capture the moment, more casting ensued on this massive school of permit that we managed not to spook completely due to fighting our first permit in the opposite direction.  Madness continued to occur with this school of fish, in that we were able to land two more within the next couple of hours, and also lost one.  At about 3:00 the school of permit began to slowly disappear, and we decided that this school of fish had blessed us enough for the day.  Time to go catch some bonefish, and then head back in.  But hold on…not so fast.

As we were heading back to shore, our guide ran up to the front of the boat, put on his sunglasses, and yelled “PERMIT! PERMIT! Stop the boat! Someone grab a rod!”  Like a young boy who had just been told “first one to the finish line wins,” I grabbed our only rod with a shrimp pattern that was equipped with a ten pound bonefish leader (the other two rods were currently equipped with a tarpon fly and barracuda wire) and jumped into the water.  Our guide pointed straight ahead and I saw a school of about 20 large permit hauling butt directly our way.  I stripped out line faster than I ever have before, and began sprinting in the water to the right in order to set up the cast.  Run, run, run.  Go, go, go! Cast, cast, cast…land it.  My cast had landed about ten feet from the front of the school, and as soon as I began stripping line in I had three nice permit competing over the fly.  They kept missing and missing, until finally all of my fly line was in, except for roughly five feet of leader off the tip of my rod.  I felt a significant take, and a bigger permit (roughly ten pounds) was on for about a second, then pop.  Good ol’ fashioned line break.  Regardless, the rush was one of the most amazing fly fishing experiences I have ever had, and it taught me to never been on a boat in search of permit without at least one rod ready to go with the right line (16 and 20 pound tippet were the move for the week, and any saltwater fish hitting a fly five feet from the tip of the rod is going to break 10 pound tippet like it’s nothing.)

Days three and four decided to call in mother nature for even more backup, and the wind continued to howl intensely.  We ran across one spooked school of permit on day three, and lost one fish due to an awkward take.  Although we did search the entire day for more permit (perhaps hoping to find the same large school we encountered on day two) we did not see any more permit for the remaining two days.  But that is how fly fishing for permit goes:  some days all of the stars lineup and provide you with an opportunity or two, and on other days you can flat out see nothing.  Some days will even consist of everything seeming perfect, but then the fish will continuously refuse you for absolutely no apparent reason.  The amount of respect that I developed for these fish this week is immense, and their beauty, intelligence, and ability to appear when most unexpected is something to highly appreciate and admire.  However, as fly fishing in Belize seems to go most of the time, we were able to still land some great bonefish for our remaining two days and countless memories were made during every cast.

Although I have been blessed and fortunate enough to have had countless days on the water with a fly rod in hand and my dad by my side, this week will forever be one of the most memorable to me.  Not only is catching a fish as highly respectable and impressive as a permit a moment that I will forever cherish, but being able to do it on my last spring break in college with my best friend is something that words cannot express.  Fly fishing continues to amaze me with the emotional motivation it provides me with, and I will definitely be chasing more permit in future trips throughout my life with the man who has helped shape me into who I am today.

This life is sweet, God is good, and every day continues to bring new hope and adventure. Tight lines and best wishes to all.

Joe