As soon as Christmas 2017 was over I was counting down the days until my next, very much anticipated, overseas fishing trip. After much research and planning, I was off to the jungles of Costa Rica for a fly fishing adventure that would test my angling skills to their limits....and beyond.
My plan was to head near the border with Nicaragua, where I would be spending a week fly fishing for monster Tarpon. The location is rather special in that it's many miles from the sea and the Tarpon migrate all the way up the rivers to feed on the masses of bait fish that are present. As the rivers and wetlands drain off at the end of the wet season, all the bait gets washed into the main channels and the Tarpon know this. That's why they're there.
It's also exactly why I was going. To have the opportunity to sight cast flies at giant Tarpon in a freshwater river no wider than my local Sussex Ouse sounded very appealing indeed. Having caught Tarpon on bait and lures in the past, fly fishing for them was the next logical step.
I arrived after 2 days of travel and 3 flights, transiting through Nicaragua. The final leg of the journey was incredible as I flew right over Lake Nicaragua and it's volcanoes on a 12 seater plane down to the border area. After a nice easy border crossing (for a change), I met my guide for the week. He'd grown up in the jungle there and knew all the rivers and backwaters like the back of his hand.
Our first morning on the river was incredible. There were huge Tarpon everywhere. They were smashing bait all over the place and the water was erupting all around us as they gorged on the masses of 3 inch 'sardinas'. Only trouble was, they just wouldn't hit my fly. No matter what I did, they seemed totally preoccupied on the real deal. My artificial offerings just weren't cutting the mustard.
After the morning bite died off it was very quiet until late afternoon when the fish then started to rise occasionally. This was my cue to get casting and I got a good few shots at some actively feeding fish. After half an hour of trying I had a fish smash the fly right by the boat and was treated to an incredible fight. The tarpon tore off downstream in the narrow river and we chased it in the boat, I had to work hard to keep the fish out of the margins.
It jumped a few times and we got a good look at 100lb+ of solid muscle desperately trying to throw the hook. Fortunately, everything held and I fought the fish for a good 20 minutes or so. Then disaster struck....everything went slack. She was gone. Upon inspecting the leader, we found that the prolonged fight had just been too much and the leader had worn through. Such is the nature of Tarpon fishing. Gutted. It was a good hook hold too.....
The next day dawned in a similar fashion. As we slowly made our way upstream in the half light we could hear the Tarpon smashing bait in the margins all around us. It was an incredible sound! We positioned the boat just off a far bank run, covered in trees. The Tarpon were tucked right under the branches, swirling and sucking noisily as they fed. It was a tricky cast through a gap in the branches and it had to be just right if the fish were to notice my offering. 6 inches short and I was wasting my time. This was a real test of my skills.
After a dozen or so casts, some perfect, most not so - I finally got a pull, the line just twitched slightly as the fly made it's drift. I set the hook and the water erupted as a giant, estimated around 150 lb, leapt from the water before making a blistering run. Another jump followed and then that sinking feeling once again as the line went slack. This time the leader was intact with the fly still attached, it had just come loose.....in typical Tarpon style.
I had 2 more chances that morning, fishing at close range with smaller fish. Both of which instantly threw the hook. They say that if you get one in ten to the boat when you're fly fishing Tarpon then you're doing well, so I wasn't too bothered at this stage.
Then the unthinkable happened. That night it rained. It rained hard. That kind of tropical rain that never lets up. Unrelenting. It was meant to be the dry season. It went on to pour down for the remainder of the week, totally unseasonable and unexpected. The river rose by a meter and turned the colour of hot chocolate.
That was the end of the fishing. The Tarpon just didn't like the cold, dirty water running down from the hills and stopped feeding. Game over.
That's just how it goes. You win some, you lose some. That's the chance you take when you travel half way round the world to go fishing. We are at the mercy of the elements.
I'll definitely go back there again in the future though. That you can be sure of.
No comments:
Post a Comment