Guanaja, Honduras - May 2011

Steven made the trek from Hong Kong and I from San Francisco - both of us intent on plying the clear, warm waters of Guanaja, one of the Honduran Bay Islands. With four full fishing days booked from Graham's Place on a small reef off the Guanaja coast, we arrived locked and loaded for prime flats fishing. A Continental flight from Houston to Roatan, an extremely small (and somewhat alarmingly old) plane to Guanaja, a short boat ride to Graham's, and we were miles from anywhere recognizable, thankful to be free from the chaotic concrete jungles of our respective city-homes. 

Our plane - likely older than the both of us

We unloaded the boat - one rolling duffel, one aluminum hardside, two duffels, and two rod tubes - and were shown to our cabin. Dusty yellow on the outside, dark wood on the inside, and appropriately tropical all around, our bungalow was one of three on a pristine ribbon of white sand, a sharp line of blue-green water providing an almost stark contrast. The first thing that struck me about this unsullied slice of the Caribbean was the silence - perhaps we were just lucky, but as the only guests on the reef for that week, I couldn't hear much beyond the languid lapping of the waves and the ruffling of palm fronds. It was closing in on 5pm when we stepped foot into our cabin, with 12 to 15 hours of traveling behind us, and we both had one thing in mind as we unpacked wading boots, fly boxes, and a couple of 8-weights. And how could fishing gear not be the first thing you reach for when this is waiting for you just outside your door?

 After 12 hours of airports, airplanes, hygienically-challenged seatmates, being felt up by TSA employees, and more airports, there's nothing quite like the feeling of that first step into the ocean. At that point, if all the Honduran bonefish went on a hunger strike for the week, the trip would have still been a success. When the only person within sight or earshot is your trusted fishing partner, you're in the right spot. 

And that proved to be the right attitude, as the bonefishing wasn't exactly red-hot. Sighting them was easy enough - Guanaja's flats proved to be rife with numerous schools of bonefish, some with well over 100 individuals. Getting them to take, however, was a different matter altogether. Even with my sub-par casting skills, I managed to land a few casts right on the button, but to no avail. Throwing Gotchas, Mai Tais, or blind Charlie's, it didn't seem to matter - the fish just weren't interested. I did manage to land a very small grouper on the 8wt NRX, though.

Very small fish.

The first night at Graham's, we discovered perhaps its most interesting feature - a relatively deep water dock with a relatively bright light that was kept on throughout the night. Truly a special and eerie (especially eerie?) sight - standing in the black of night on a small dock overlooking the Caribbean, countless spots of light from millions of years ago dotting the sky, the sound of surf, wind, the smell of salt, and a 20-yard semi-circle of illuminated water in which you could see dark shadows cruising around, flitting into and out of sight like a dream in the morning that you can't quite hold on to. One such pack of shadows came cruising through and, armed with a Stella 3000FE, a Loomis M Escape spinning rod, and a Daiwa Chugger Minnow, I fired a cast across and just in front of the lead fish. Drawing the crank in, I ran it through the pack and managed to hook into one of the monsters of the night. In all of fishing, there are perhaps one or two sounds sweeter than the sound of a Stella's drag yielding line to the blistering run of a saltwater pelagic, and for the next ten minutes I was treated to this Shimano Symphony, of sorts. As the fish tired, I gained ground, and with the help of a timely net, landed a monster Permit of about 30 pounds. Turns out I had snagged the poor guy right in the back. I know some of you will have strong reactions, to say the least, to a foul-hooked fish. I will say that while I certainly would hope to fair-catch every fish that I catch, foul-hooking happens and if you give me the choice between not catching a 30lb Permit at all, and catching it by a chance foul-hook, I'll take the chance foul-hook almost every time. One heck of a fight, and a healthy release.

Very big fish.

 The next several days held a smorgasbord of fun flats action - sight casting to small Lemon Sharks, pulling on Barracuda, catching two snappers on one plug, finding a school of Snook in a small lagoon, sight-casting to monster Permit, casting to a school of Bonita busting bait on the surface, and, yes, catching a few bonefish here and there. Turns out Bonefish Bitters was the hot fly of the trip. Bones that had just refused perfect presentations of Gotchas and Charlies would snatch up a Bitters without a second thought. Some of the best bonefishing was right in front of Graham's Place, targeting a school of medium size bones that would always hang out around the lodge, and a few large solo cruisers usually found tailing behind the bar. Yes, tailing behind the bar, exactly where I like to find my quarry. 


The Permit proved to be, well, Permit - spooky and quirky. Despite a handful of decent shots and well placed crab flies, there were no takers. A few were spotted each day, and one day we found two well over 20 pounds on a slightly deeper flat, but the story was always the same - tantalizingly close but no proverbial cigar.

Casting at sunset, Guanaja.

Small Lemon Shark, but huge fun - sight fished with a small Yo-Zuri plug.

A nice bonefish caught after lunch just behind the bar area.

Releasing a nice bonefish caught about 8 feet from Graham's bar.

After a hard day's work.

 Weapons of choice for the trip - 8wt reels from Tibor, Bauer, and Ross, rods from G Loomis and Sage. Rio's Grand and Clouser lines. Conventional tackle consisted of Shimano Stella 3000 and 4000FE reels, Loomis Escape rods, and PowerPro braid. Top fly was a Bonefish Bitters. Top lure was a shallow-running (4 inches or less) Yo-Zuri crankbait used for sight-casting with the spinning rod on the flats. Any deeper than a few inches and you would snag grass every cast. Daytime highs were in the high 80s to mid 90s, though wading combined with a slight breeze made the conditions quite pleasant. Plenty of sunscreen was used in the making of this adventure, and long pants and sleeves came in handy. Little in the way of bugs to speak of.

All in all a phenomenal time, with the experience ranking slightly ahead of the actual fishing.