After nearly a year of missing the flats, Bonefish Camp happened once again.
Bo’s quest for his first ever bonefish began at dawn and ran til dusk. With time, I’ve become a strong believer in the power of three when it comes to a first bonefish.
The trip’s highest tide occurred on day one. Heavy winds and steady clouds meant little vis, but we embarked on a route I dreamed up 11 months prior. A few flats deep in the mangroves kept us paddling.
The fish arrived with the tide but seemed troubled. Flies they readily ate in 2019 were ignored. Bo and I meandered across the flats, hoping that this spot or that would be the one. Bo fed a fish but lost out to a rock wrap. Finally, at high noon, I spotted a fish before I was seen. I placed the size 6 Scampi 20 feet ahead and waited. And waited. A small twitch and the fish was all over it. Bo walked over to see what all the fuss was about.
A few minutes later, a fish swam our way. Bo’s first cast flushed it but soon the fish resumed its path. Bo gave a healthy lead. It seemed destined to eat. But no. A refusal and the fish v-waked away. We would cover 4 more miles before another tailing fish was spotted.
We dragged our kayaks across an inch of water, racing against the fading light to reach a place Gabe and I dubbed the sunset flat. Sure enough, when the water became ankle deep, tails shimmered above the surface. Bo fished perfectly this time. A rainbow glowed above him when he lifted his first bonefish.
We paddled back with high hopes that Junior might have found all the fish.
