I’ve written a lot about Ensenada Honda, the bonefish-rich bay on the Caribbean side of Vieques, and the difficulties I’ve had accessing it on windy days. A stiff southeast breeze can easily turn the eight mile run from the town of Esperanza’s launch ramp into a punishing and dangerous ordeal in my seventeen foot flats boat. For the past year I’ve been eyeing an alternative way to get to this bay without enduring the punishment of our routinely high southern seas.
At the end of Blue Beach, just west of Ensenada Honda, there is an open area where the sand slopes into the calm, shallow water. The Fish and Game people stuck up a sign indicating that this is a natural boat ramp and, even though I’ve never seen anyone launch a boat there, I’ve been itching to try it. Instead of a half hour soaking ride from Esperanza, launching at the protected end of Blue Beach would give me an easy three minute shot to the acres of flats in Ensenada Honda, and its year round bonefish.
The big obstacle here is the road to Blue Beach itself. You drive down a five-mile dirt trail through the old Navy lands, with a few stretches that feel like they were cratered by wayward cluster-bombs. In my indestructible old Jeep, this road is a twenty minute bounce. Hooking up 1700 pounds of boat and single-axle trailer behind me would make it into an hour long crawl, so I’ve never tried it. Not until two weeks ago.
Earlier this year I got a call from a freelance writer who I fished with last winter while he was doing a story for National Geographic. We caught a nice tarpon on fly that day but the story was on the island itself and not the fishing. This year Greg was writing a series of articles for the New York Times, one of which would focus specifically on the fly fishing off Vieques, with a staff photographer coming along for the ride.
On top of the obvious free publicity, I enjoyed fishing with Greg and really wanted to show him a couple of good days this time. With a professional photographer assigned, Ensenada Honda, one of the most beautiful spots in the Caribbean, would be the perfect location. I said all the weather prayers possible but when Greg showed up two weeks ago, it was blowing like stink. My only way to get the guys and my boat into the bay safely would be the five mile dirt road and untested “ramp” at the end of Blue Beach.
I met Greg and Alex, the photographer, at Garcia Gates at sunrise. With visions of flat tires and a busted leaf springs in my head, I started the agonizingly slow crawl toward the beach. It took forty-five minutes, fifteen less than expected, to get to the ramp, but we arrived in one piece. My boat slid into the water as easily as if it were concrete and five minutes later we were drifting across the perfect Ensenada flats, sheltered from the winds by the big hills surrounding the bay. When I looked south all I could see was a Caribbean stirred up by gusts that would have made this day impossible if we launched from Esperanza.
Admittedly, the fishing was a little slow that morning, but we had plenty of shots and a few hookups. The highlight of the day came when Greg made a perfect cast to a small permit, the Holy Grail of shallow water game fish, and had it pounce on his fly. After a heroic effort to get the loose line on the reel, and with Alex snapping away, Greg finally got the fish under control. Seconds later the hook simply came loose. This seemed to be a recurring problem for us. Before his time with me in Vieques was done, Greg managed to hook and loose a fly rod Grand Slam, two tarpon, a bonefish, and a permit. All hooked and all lost to nothing more than bad luck. Every fisherman needs a good “One That Got Away” story, so I guess we had ours and then some.
At the end of the day I was happy. Greg had a few great fish to write about for the New York Times, Alex shot several megabytes of photos, and I assured myself that I could get to Ensenada Honda from Blue Beach with some effort but no major trauma. Life was good. Then I tried to pull the boat out of the water.
With 1700 pounds pushing down on the back of my 4WD Wrangler, the wheels dug right into the sand and kept spinning. We pushed, shoved rocks under the tires, and tried it from every angle, but the damn boat wasn’t coming up that lousy beach. In the end, I had to call my VERY BUSY wife (who warned me not to try this in the first place) to come and rescue us in her Toyota 4-Runner. After yanking me out with her big SUV in front of everyone, I admitted she was right and promised her I’d never try this again.
Unless ESPN calls…
Capt. Gregg McKee, WildFly Charters
At the end of Blue Beach, just west of Ensenada Honda, there is an open area where the sand slopes into the calm, shallow water. The Fish and Game people stuck up a sign indicating that this is a natural boat ramp and, even though I’ve never seen anyone launch a boat there, I’ve been itching to try it. Instead of a half hour soaking ride from Esperanza, launching at the protected end of Blue Beach would give me an easy three minute shot to the acres of flats in Ensenada Honda, and its year round bonefish.
The big obstacle here is the road to Blue Beach itself. You drive down a five-mile dirt trail through the old Navy lands, with a few stretches that feel like they were cratered by wayward cluster-bombs. In my indestructible old Jeep, this road is a twenty minute bounce. Hooking up 1700 pounds of boat and single-axle trailer behind me would make it into an hour long crawl, so I’ve never tried it. Not until two weeks ago.
Earlier this year I got a call from a freelance writer who I fished with last winter while he was doing a story for National Geographic. We caught a nice tarpon on fly that day but the story was on the island itself and not the fishing. This year Greg was writing a series of articles for the New York Times, one of which would focus specifically on the fly fishing off Vieques, with a staff photographer coming along for the ride.
On top of the obvious free publicity, I enjoyed fishing with Greg and really wanted to show him a couple of good days this time. With a professional photographer assigned, Ensenada Honda, one of the most beautiful spots in the Caribbean, would be the perfect location. I said all the weather prayers possible but when Greg showed up two weeks ago, it was blowing like stink. My only way to get the guys and my boat into the bay safely would be the five mile dirt road and untested “ramp” at the end of Blue Beach.
I met Greg and Alex, the photographer, at Garcia Gates at sunrise. With visions of flat tires and a busted leaf springs in my head, I started the agonizingly slow crawl toward the beach. It took forty-five minutes, fifteen less than expected, to get to the ramp, but we arrived in one piece. My boat slid into the water as easily as if it were concrete and five minutes later we were drifting across the perfect Ensenada flats, sheltered from the winds by the big hills surrounding the bay. When I looked south all I could see was a Caribbean stirred up by gusts that would have made this day impossible if we launched from Esperanza.
Admittedly, the fishing was a little slow that morning, but we had plenty of shots and a few hookups. The highlight of the day came when Greg made a perfect cast to a small permit, the Holy Grail of shallow water game fish, and had it pounce on his fly. After a heroic effort to get the loose line on the reel, and with Alex snapping away, Greg finally got the fish under control. Seconds later the hook simply came loose. This seemed to be a recurring problem for us. Before his time with me in Vieques was done, Greg managed to hook and loose a fly rod Grand Slam, two tarpon, a bonefish, and a permit. All hooked and all lost to nothing more than bad luck. Every fisherman needs a good “One That Got Away” story, so I guess we had ours and then some.
At the end of the day I was happy. Greg had a few great fish to write about for the New York Times, Alex shot several megabytes of photos, and I assured myself that I could get to Ensenada Honda from Blue Beach with some effort but no major trauma. Life was good. Then I tried to pull the boat out of the water.
With 1700 pounds pushing down on the back of my 4WD Wrangler, the wheels dug right into the sand and kept spinning. We pushed, shoved rocks under the tires, and tried it from every angle, but the damn boat wasn’t coming up that lousy beach. In the end, I had to call my VERY BUSY wife (who warned me not to try this in the first place) to come and rescue us in her Toyota 4-Runner. After yanking me out with her big SUV in front of everyone, I admitted she was right and promised her I’d never try this again.
Unless ESPN calls…
Capt. Gregg McKee, WildFly Charters
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