Day 3 kicks off without a hint of wind at first light. We rush the morning routine to make it to the water, giddy with anticipation. As soon as we reach the flats, tails pop up. Junior pulls out the fancy cam and Bo and I get to work.
The happy fish keep us entertained until the wind picks up. We split up with plans to reunite at the flat I fished the day before. It is time to hunt for the big ones.
Bo and I meander the low tide flat. A few fish later and we are ready to get skinny. Fish are milling about as soon as we arrive at the edge of the flat. They spook at false casts and are generally hostile to our presence. Slowly the tide rises and the fish push in to feed. They are even pickier than before. I adjust and tie on an unweighted fly, a #6 blind Crazy Charlie.
The next fish bull rushes the presentation. The fish tips down. I strip set but instead of a hook up, the blind Charlie surfs the bonefish’s wake. The bonefish channels his inner brown trout and does his best to eat the fly on the surface. Alas, tension never arrives and he bolts to deeper water.
Gradually, things line up and a couple nice fish come to hand. The fish seem less enthused than previously, hesitant to commit to the skinny water. The wind builds and clouds accumulate. I head back to deeper water. Vis becomes nearly nonexistent. I head for the lee of an island in hopes of a fish or two at sunset. Tails taunt me from thigh-deep muck. I can't help myself and go after them. I am too slow and quickly miserable. I call it quits before dark with high hopes that conch burgers might be on the menu tonight.