One of the benefits of spending my adult life as a fly fishing guide is knowing a great waterfront bar when I see one. From the southern coast of New Jersey down to the Grenadines, I’ve hit a lot of really good ones. But here on the island of Vieques, just seven miles off the east coast of Puerto Rico, we have one of the Caribbean’s best. It’s called Al’s Mar Azul, or simply “Al’s” to the locals. Perched just ten feet above the beach in the town of Isabel Segunda, Al’s is a true waterfront classic.
For starters, the beer is only a dollar during happy-hour and not much more anytime else. The atmosphere is just about as perfect as the drink prices. Al’s is essentially a wide open patio under a concrete roof with a guest room on top. It has a pool table, maybe two dozen barstools, and one of the world’s best decks overlooking what Mr. Buffett may have called that “One Particular Harbor.“ Like all truly great waterfront bars, Al’s ceiling is decorated with old license plates, a few articles of women’s underwear, and a piece or two of military ordinance. Walk into the bar with a sample of any of the above and chances are you’ll get it hung in the rafters by Al himself, along with a shot of Cuervo for your troubles.
Nighttime at Al’s is always a spectacle here in Vieques, but for the last two weeks the real spectacle has been happening in the ankle deep surf right underneath the famous deck. As summer comes to an end and fall begins, subtle aquatic changes bring huge schools of bait into the shallows along the island's north coast. One factor attracting these schools so close to shore is runoff from our fresh water arroyos. These are the rain fed streams that flow down from the island‘s steeper hills. When these arroyos hit the sea dense clouds of glass minnows, pilchards, and mullet stack up to feast on the microscopic life that blooms where the salt and freshwater meet. This bait, which can turn the water black, dimpling the surface like an invisible rain shower, quickly attracts many predators which start feeding with wild abandon.
The first to show are the brown pelicans. These are nature’s version of the old WWII Avenger dive-bombers. Seeing pelicans hit the water from fifty feet of altitude is a sure sign that a heavy concentration of bait is right below the surface. You can usually expect to find a good amount of snook and barracuda attacking the minnows from below. Mixed in with this frenzy will inevitably be the top dog of all shallow water game fish, the tarpon. These big silver predators, known locally by their Spanish name of sabalo, are every fly fisherman’s dream. Tarpon are true tackle busters and are rarely caught from shore.
Several weeks ago, when our afternoon showers became a daily event, the arroyo running between Al’s beach and our local ferry dock began dumping steady rainwater into Isabel Harbor. When this happens, I start taking a fly rod with me to happy hour and lean it by the front door alongside the pool cues. Sitting out on Al’s deck, I can keep an eye on the water below and watch for the unmistakable sign that the tarpon have arrived; a shower of minnows followed by a cannonball sized explosion in the surf. Quite often, the tarpon will shoot completely out of the water, turning perfect back flips before crashing back into the bait. At this point I’ll be hustling towards the door and my fly rod, stopping to grab an extra beer or two for the beach. Within thirty seconds I’ll be standing in the middle of the bait and casting to rolling tarpon less than a rod’s length away.
As I mentioned earlier, this is not an everyday event and predicting when the tarpon will start busting in Isabel Harbor is not an exact science. For the visiting angler I would simply suggest the Boy Scout motto: Be Prepared. Come down with an 8 or 9-weight fly rod and keep it with you wherever you go on Vieques. I’ve been walking around with mine long enough that I don’t get a second look anymore at Al’s. Keep the rod strung up with a ten foot leader and no less than twenty pound tippet. Most of our shore tarpon are on the small side, fifteen pounds or less, but every now and then a nice fifty pounder sneaks into the fray. The standard streamer flies work great but when the fish are really smashing the bait, anything goes.
Over the past two weeks I’ve thrown everything in my box at these shore-bound tarpon and everything has worked, but only once or twice. They’re not consistent when they show up and they’re not consistent in what they eat. But when you’re literally standing in the middle of a tarpon feeding-frenzy, they will consistently amaze you, and Vieques, Puerto Rico is one of the few places on Earth to experience this. Check out the video below to see for yourself.
One final piece of advice: Break down your fly rods before you walk into Al’s. His ceiling fans are a killer.
Capt. Gregg McKee, WildFly Charters
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