The current world record tarpon weighs 286 pounds and was caught off the west coast of Africa in 2003. This is according to the International Game Fish Association (IGFA), the great organization that sets the rules as to how a fish is properly caught on a rod and reel and then submitted for a record depending on line class and tackle. The IGFA requirements are strict and a fish must be hooked, fought, landed, and weighed according to their regulations. Owning an IGFA tarpon world record is the angling equivalent of winning a PGA Major, and guiding the angler to that trophy is the equivalent of being both the coach and caddy at the same time. Down here in Vieques, I’ll probably never know that glory.
There are currently a few hot spots for landing world record tarpon, the Gambia River in Africa and Homosassa, Florida top the list. Unfortunately for me, Vieques would be down the page quite a bit. We have tarpon, and plenty of them, but after a year of fishing our flats, I’ve yet to bring a triple-digit fish to the boat. This island is simply not home to a lot big tarpon, and that’s fine with me. What we do have down here is a year-round fishery for this incredible species, but on a smaller scale. The average Vieques tarpon weighs in at around 20 pounds and they rarely exceeds the 50 pound mark. For an animal that can grow to 300 pounds, this might not seem like much. For a fly rod angler, those 20 pounds are pure treasure.
To many anglers, the smaller tarpon on lighter fly rods are a much better sport. They jump far more often and can be subdued without resorting to an hours-long battle in the withering tropical heat and sun. In fact, my idea of a perfect fish is a 50 pound tarpon on a 9 weight fly rod. That’s a fish I’ve had no problem finding down here.
A few years ago, when I was guiding in the early-June tarpon frenzy out of Key West, I had a client hook into a very big fish just off the stunningly beautiful island called Ballast Key. The temperature was in the mid-90’s and the air was so still and humid that it felt like a living organism was clinging to your body. My angler, a hilarious Dodge dealer from south Georgia named Dave, was 45 minutes into the fight with his first fish that went well over the 100 pound mark, and had yet to give us a single jump. In fact, this tarpon had done little more than eat the fly and move off to the deeper water like a dump truck rolling down hill. This fish was the exception, not the rule. Most tarpon go ballistic as soon as they’re stung by the hook, jumping more than half a dozen times on average. On this day however, we were stuck with a dud and my angler had nothing better to do than pull against a lot of dead weight. Somewhere close to the one hour mark, Dave turned around to look at me through his coating of sweat and said something I’ll never forget: “Hell, Gregg. This ain’t nothing but a high-tech carp!”
I cracked up and agreed. A tarpon that doesn‘t jump isn‘t much more than a high tech carp, just bigger and even less edible. “Break her off, Dave. Let’s go find something else.” I told him, and he palmed the reel, popping the 20 pound tippet. Our huge tarpon continued on towards Cuba as if nothing unusual had happened for the previous hour.
That was the first and only tarpon I had ever seen that never jumped. The 15 pound fish Dave landed later that day launched itself into the air almost a dozen times, and instantly became the greatest fish he ever caught. The simple fact about this species is that if they didn’t jump, few people would make to effort to fish for them. But they do jump, and better than anything else in shallow water. And for that reason alone, people will come to Vieques from great distances to catch one and then let it swim away.
A 300 pound tarpon will probably never grace the end of my line down here, but that monster has to start somewhere. The other day I sat in the back of a kayak watching 17 year old angler Theo Chupein hook his first tarpon on a fly. We were in a hot, algae-choked salt pond near on the old Navy lands that had no visible access to the sea. It was full of baby tarpon no more that a foot long. As I watched Theo’s one pound fish jump to eye level, I thought about the chances that maybe, fifty years from now, these two would encounter each other again. Maybe it would be up in Florida or West Africa, and that fish, one of thousands that use Vieques as a nursery, would be the magic 300 pounder. And maybe Theo would finally own his world record.
Capt. Gregg McKee, WildFly Charters
There are currently a few hot spots for landing world record tarpon, the Gambia River in Africa and Homosassa, Florida top the list. Unfortunately for me, Vieques would be down the page quite a bit. We have tarpon, and plenty of them, but after a year of fishing our flats, I’ve yet to bring a triple-digit fish to the boat. This island is simply not home to a lot big tarpon, and that’s fine with me. What we do have down here is a year-round fishery for this incredible species, but on a smaller scale. The average Vieques tarpon weighs in at around 20 pounds and they rarely exceeds the 50 pound mark. For an animal that can grow to 300 pounds, this might not seem like much. For a fly rod angler, those 20 pounds are pure treasure.
To many anglers, the smaller tarpon on lighter fly rods are a much better sport. They jump far more often and can be subdued without resorting to an hours-long battle in the withering tropical heat and sun. In fact, my idea of a perfect fish is a 50 pound tarpon on a 9 weight fly rod. That’s a fish I’ve had no problem finding down here.
A few years ago, when I was guiding in the early-June tarpon frenzy out of Key West, I had a client hook into a very big fish just off the stunningly beautiful island called Ballast Key. The temperature was in the mid-90’s and the air was so still and humid that it felt like a living organism was clinging to your body. My angler, a hilarious Dodge dealer from south Georgia named Dave, was 45 minutes into the fight with his first fish that went well over the 100 pound mark, and had yet to give us a single jump. In fact, this tarpon had done little more than eat the fly and move off to the deeper water like a dump truck rolling down hill. This fish was the exception, not the rule. Most tarpon go ballistic as soon as they’re stung by the hook, jumping more than half a dozen times on average. On this day however, we were stuck with a dud and my angler had nothing better to do than pull against a lot of dead weight. Somewhere close to the one hour mark, Dave turned around to look at me through his coating of sweat and said something I’ll never forget: “Hell, Gregg. This ain’t nothing but a high-tech carp!”
I cracked up and agreed. A tarpon that doesn‘t jump isn‘t much more than a high tech carp, just bigger and even less edible. “Break her off, Dave. Let’s go find something else.” I told him, and he palmed the reel, popping the 20 pound tippet. Our huge tarpon continued on towards Cuba as if nothing unusual had happened for the previous hour.
That was the first and only tarpon I had ever seen that never jumped. The 15 pound fish Dave landed later that day launched itself into the air almost a dozen times, and instantly became the greatest fish he ever caught. The simple fact about this species is that if they didn’t jump, few people would make to effort to fish for them. But they do jump, and better than anything else in shallow water. And for that reason alone, people will come to Vieques from great distances to catch one and then let it swim away.
A 300 pound tarpon will probably never grace the end of my line down here, but that monster has to start somewhere. The other day I sat in the back of a kayak watching 17 year old angler Theo Chupein hook his first tarpon on a fly. We were in a hot, algae-choked salt pond near on the old Navy lands that had no visible access to the sea. It was full of baby tarpon no more that a foot long. As I watched Theo’s one pound fish jump to eye level, I thought about the chances that maybe, fifty years from now, these two would encounter each other again. Maybe it would be up in Florida or West Africa, and that fish, one of thousands that use Vieques as a nursery, would be the magic 300 pounder. And maybe Theo would finally own his world record.
Capt. Gregg McKee, WildFly Charters
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