Bahamas..west side connection.
The Bahamas is somewhere I never thought I would get to visit until later in life. Family, work, bills, yard work. . . the list goes on and on. I would feverishly scroll though images of Bahamian bonefish dreaming of when I would get a chance to have my time on the bow stalking bones. I live in central Ohio, so I spend most of my days chasing the working man’s bonefish (carp), waiting for my time.
Last winter, a trip with friends to South Andros fell from the cold Ohio sky and landed in my lap. I couldn’t pass it up. With a three-year-old at home and the blessing from my expecting wife, I somehow got the green light.
I didn’t really know what to expect. I had heard stories of 20 fish days and giant schools of bonefish that came in with each tide. I also know from years of tarpon fishing in the Keys that you have to keep your expectations realistic.
The morning of my departure, the weather dumped about 8 inches of fresh snow on Ohio. My first thought was about flight cancelations. My next thought was that I would be barred from the house if I didn’t shovel. I managed to do what was quite possibly the worst/fastest shoveling job in human history and then set off for South Andros.
Perhaps the best part of going to South Andros is connecting in Nassau to the rickety, small plane that takes you to Congo Town airport. Getting on that plane was one of the few times where I truly felt as if I were leaving everything else behind me.
Over the months leading up to my trip I had become fascinated and borderline obsessed with the famous west side of Andros island. I wanted to fish there all three days. It’s a long, beautiful and invigorating ride to the west side from the dock. As soon as you leave the dock and take a hard turn down the canal, there is not another sign of civilization. The west side of Andros is a Bahamian national park that abuts one of the world’s largest reef systems. It’s a spider web of lagoons, canals and tidal creeks: bonefish heaven.
The first morning was tough. Low clouds made spotting fish very difficult. I was fortunate enough to be fishing with one of my best friends who let me have the bow till I brought my first fish to hand. After a few very long hours (and some morning refreshments), the sun decided to make an appearance and the true glory of the west side opened up. At that point, the guilt of hogging the bow set in and my friend Joe immediately hooked into a nice bone. Seeing my first bonefish in person that Joe brought in was an amazing experience. The beauty of these fish is something that cannot be put into words. After a quick change, I got my opportunity. Within minutes I was on. Of course, I get the one that takes me deep into the mangroves. Without any hesitation Joe jumped off the skiff and chased him down, determined not to lose my first fish in the groves. Minutes later, I was holding my first bonefish, something I will never forget. The day continued with fish after fish.
The second day of my trip gave my friend Josh and I full sunshine but intense 20-25 mph sustained winds. It was tough spotting fish with white capped flats but I managed to get a few. What I learned was the value of a good guide who could position the boat in a way that gave me a down wind casting advantage. What really made the second day though was the cuda. After a long walk with our guide Charlie, we decided to head back to the boat for lunch. Charlie decided to go check out a lagoon on the other side of the boat on foot. He waved me over and I grabbed the spinning rod (no judging) to get a chance at one of these big cuda hugging the far bank. I threw out the plug and it quickly started to get the attention of the big cuda. On my second cast, I caught the plug on the tip of my friends borrowed 8 wt, sending the tip flying and in the process losing the plug somewhere in the mangroves. After all this commotion, the cuda were on the prowl looking for something to crush. I decided to make the 100 yard dash in shin deep water to get my 11 wt rod. I quickly rigged up and then ran back hoping the cuda was still around. This time it was even closer, feverishly looking for a quick meal. I stripped out my line and sent a cast out towards the cuda. My fly landed on the water 20 ft from the cuda. It turned around and instantly went towards my fly. I tucked my rod under my arm and did a two handed strip as fast as I could and the cuda took a big swipe at my fly and missed. I picked up and cast again, intentionally slapping my fly on the water. This time the cuda didn’t miss and ate the fly 30 feet in front of me. Seeing a massive cuda eat a 7” fly in front of your face is sick. After the take, the cuda took off running like a favorite in the Kentucky derby. As my line screamed off my reel, two things happened: my guide was yelling at me to get back to the boat because rumor has it that cuda will sometimes come after you if you’re on foot and that my reel’s drag was still set from the last tarpon season and this thing was ripping line off with ease. I started my sideways shuffle through the lagoon back to the boat to land the thing safely. When I reached the boat, I noticed its size. It was huge. You know how this goes…as soon as we got him close to the boat, he broke off. I learned quickly that day who the real boss of Andros is. Barracudas are the apex predators of the flats on Andros, eating anything they want and not taking shit from anyone—apparently anglers as well.
On the last day of my trip, my friend Matt and I decided that we wanted to get a bonefish on foot. That morning the winds were blowing at a consistent 20 mph and we knew we were in for a rough day. We linked up with legendary guide Torrie Bevins to make sure this could happen. After we bubbled into a lagoon, we managed to get into some fish early from the boat. But we both really wanted to get one on foot. To me, stalking bones on foot is the pinnacle of bone fishing. Torrie knew it was our last day and decided that we should pack a snack and take a long walk to one of his thousands of holes. On the walk to his spot we each managed to get into some nice fish, one pushing 8 pounds. Torrie managed to get us pretty deep into the lagoon and hidden out of the wind as much as possible. As we approached the spot, the tide started to pour out. He put us in position with him in the middle and us off to his sides. “Get ready,” he said. Within minutes, a parade of bonefish started pouring in from around the corner. At one point I lost count of how many doubles we had. For two hours it’s was fish after fish. As fast as you could get them off you would have another one on. It reminded me of fishing in northern Minnesota for sunfish with my father when I was younger. With the day ending, we had to leave fish, but I wasn’t a bit disappointed because I had truly experienced the west side in all its glory. I couldn’t wait to have one of many cold Kaliks in the boat waiting for me.
Shawn Abernathy
SUBSCRIBE TO TAIL FLY FISHING MAGAZINE
