The Best Bonefish I Ever Caught

One of the main reasons I moved to Vieques was its bonefish population. This is my favorite species to chase and Vieques is the best place I’ve ever fished for them. This isn't saying that Vieques is the best place on Earth to fish for them. From what I’ve been told and read, that title would probably go to the Seychelles or Christmas Island, two exotic locales that are half a world and about $10,000 away from me right now. But I have a home right here on Vieques, and we have a handful of flats where I can catch tailing bonefish any day of the year. That’s what makes Vieques my favorite bonefishing destination so far. But my favorite bonefish came from somewhere else.

A customer asked me about this a while ago when we were chasing fish across the incredible flats of Ensenada Honda. “What was the best bonefish you ever caught?” It was kind of a tough question but after rattling off the stories of a few memorable catches, he was surprised at what the answer finally was.

My biggest bonefish was a ten and a half pounder that I landed about eight years ago near Key West. That was a memorable fish. I actually thought it was a barracuda at first, sitting dead still over a sandy patch on the flats. My buddy and I were looking for bones at the time but not seeing any. I decided to hit the fish with my shrimp fly just for target practice. I wasn’t too surprised when it shot forward and ate because barracuda are prone to do that when you don‘t want them to. What did surprise me was my line not being sliced a few seconds into the first run. Then the fish never jumped, which is something cuda do frequently when hooked. That’s when I thought, “We might have a big bonefish here,” and it was.

Ten and a half pounds is impressive but Florida bones get bigger. Up in Islamorada, the bonefish capital of the Keys, a fish that size will get you some high-fives but not much more. You need to beat the twelve pound mark to get in the sports page and the current fly rod record is just under sixteen pounds.

So that was the best bonefish I ever caught until two years ago. This changed when were on our honeymoon down in Grenada, an island with almost no bonefishing opportunities due to its lack of flats. Grenada wasn’t my first choice but when you fish for a living it’s hard to sell a fishing trip as a honeymoon to a non-fishing wife. The island was fantastic anyway, and I still packed my fly rod to use at the numerous beaches, but had little luck for the first few days.

Amanda and I decided to take an overnight trip to the smaller island of Carriacou, an hour’s ferry ride north. Carriacou is like Grenada’s version of Vieques, smaller and sparsely populated but with fantastic beaches. Once again, no one knew much about finding macabi, as bonefish are called throughout the region, but I hit the beach below our guest house anyway, casting a little Clouser into the surf, hoping to bend a rod on something.

My line came tight after a few casts and I was relieved that something finally picked up the fly. I got a two second run and then some quick tugs that told me I hooked a snapper or small jack. I hand-stripped the line in and my catch floated in with a wave at my feet. It was a tiny bonefish, less than ten inches long and weighing maybe half a pound. It was the smallest one I’d every seen.

Amanda started walking over to get a picture of my ridiculous but very satisfying catch when the beach behind me erupted with noise. A half dozen school kids in their swimming trunks came running down the sand towards me. They surrounded us and were jumping up and down pointing at my fish, jabbering questions in their heavily accented Patois, an island version of English that I could barely understand. These kids had never seen a fly rod before, let alone somebody use one to catch something, and I had never seen anyone so excited over a half pound bonefish.

The oldest boy finally asked me in Tourist English if they could keep it. Even though I’ve always released them, bonefish are popular throughout the Caribbean for fish stew. This one would go home as their contribution to the evening meal. When I handed it over they actually broke out into a song right there on the beach. It was in the same heavy Patois but I understood the meaning. It was their “Thanks for the Fish” song and was one of the best parts of our honeymoon. That’s what made the smallest bonefish I ever caught the best bonefish I ever caught.