BELIZE - TROUT BUMS IN PERMIT PARADISE

BELIZE

Trout Bums In PERMIT PARADISE

WORDS: RASMUS OVESEN PHOTOS: RASMUS OVESEN, MARTIN EJLER OLSEN, LESLIE BERKELEY

THE HOARSE SCREAMS of my Sage 6010 reel won’t come to an end, and the dangerously arced fly rod is being pulled convulsively towards the surface film. I struggle for footing and lean back on the fish as much as humanly possible, but I have a bad feeling. I have caught Permit on the flats before, but the fish out here on the Elbow - a subaqueous reef in the Southern part of Belize’s Turneffe Island - use radically different tactics to get rid of the flies. They flutter and spiral irresistibly downwards, and even the slightest hint of leniency will have fatal consequences – usually resulting in snapped leaders. The crux of the matter is to prevent the fish from reaching the sheltering embrace of the jagged corals deep below. Once that happens, the fish will break you off and the battle will be lost.

It is like some mean-spirited prankster just tied a cruise ship anchor to my fly line. It is disappearing into the abysmal blue depths at a dangerously fast pace, and I can’t seem to do anything about it. As the backing starts peeling off, I know I’m done for, and only a few seconds later, I fall backwards as the line goes slack. “That was a BIG fish,” says the guide without offering much in terms of consolation, and he’s obviously right. He now materializes at the casting deck, where I am crouched in frustration and grabs my rod. He proceeds to check the drag on the reel, which I had set to a daunting 9/10 in the morning, and seconds later, he hands me back the rod and drops another Pizza Fly in my hand. As I tie it on and mentally prepare for another round, I glance

down at the reel and notice that the drag is now set at 10/10…

LATER THAT DAY – after escalating winds force us to quit the offshore fishing, I have a word with one of the dive masters at the Turneffe Island Resort. He coincidentally happened to be out diving at the Elbow that day, and he saw a 35lb+ Permit racing towards the corals with a Pizza Fly in its mouth and a taught fly line dragging behind it. ’35+lbs!’, I repeat in an inquiring manner. “Yep, but I saw WAY bigger fish out there!” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. I don’t know whether to feel comforted or scared by this surprising info. All I know is that I really blew it today. I had three more shots at big Permit and managed to screw everything up. Now, I can only hope and prey that the winds will calm down, so I can head out to the Elbow again and have my revenge.

Over the next couple of days, me and my fishing buddy Martin’s patience is really being tested. Usually, the weather here in Belize is very sedate and stable in late April, but the calm serenity of our Caribbean sanctuary has now been blown relentlessly to sea. Fiery-tempered winds howl and hiss in the evergreen leaves of the palm trees, and the ocean is hardly recognizable now with its frothing 15-20 foot waves pounding the sheltering coral rims.

DENNIS YOUNG, our passionate guide, is challenged to find some decent fishing for us in the coming days – after all, there isn’t much shelter to be found when you’re stranded on a small and relatively featureless island out to sea. Nonetheless, Dennis manages to put us on some massive schools of tailing Bonefish that provide us with some exciting challenges. And whenever we hook up with one of these ghostly speed devils, we even tend to forget about those alluring charcoal and silvery Permit out there on the Elbow with their bright yellow brushstrokes, powerful flanks, and soulful gazes.

WHILE FISHING THE MANGROVES, I’m fairly certain Martin forgets about the Permit for at least 20-25 minutes. Here, he hooks up with one of the migrating Silver Kings that are just starting to rally. The self-assured Tarpon takes the fly with brute force and after the prescribed strip strike, it starts popping out of the water here, there, and everywhere shaking its head epileptically. When it finally tires of the frantic jumping, it employs new tactics to get rid of the hook. It writhes and turns; rolls aggressively on the surface – and all of a sudden it rushes for the entanglement of the mangroves. Martin is tiring out, but he is determined to land the fish, and in the end he succeeds. When he finally sits there with more than 40lbs of silvery armored Tarpon in his lap, he is as euphoric as I’ve ever seen him.

AFTER FOUR DAYS of us continuously asking our guide when the weather is going to calm down, I can tell he is starting to get just a little tired of the repetitions. He is one hell of a guide, but no oracle - and he can only tell us that usually this kind of weather doesn’t occur at this time of year. All we can do is cross our fingers and make the most of the situation. I do so by catching a ‘small’ Permit around 10lbs at Permit

Paradise – an aptly named and fairly famous flat to the north of our resort. The fish engulfs a Merkin Crab in the middle of a big, muddy foraging frenzy, and delivers a heady fight with numerous long runs and powerful maneuvers. When I land it, I have a strange feeling that things are going to turn to the better. And that same evening – after a massive thunder storm passes, the winds suddenly calm down.

WITH TWO DAYS LEFT, Martin and I are eager to get to the Elbow again. And when we wake up the next morning and issue out of our cozy little cabana, we are excited to see that the sea looks calm. When we meet with our guide, he isn’t quite as optimistic though. He fears that massive swells from the past few days might cause severe difficulties – and he is right of course. The unprotected Elbow reefs to the south are still being pounded by massive waves, and even though we agree to attempt some fishing from one of the resort’s big dive boats, things look gloomy. We see massive schools of permit, but we can’t really get to them. Our flies are being pushed towards the surface and out of reach, and after two hours of desperately clinging on to a rope in the front of the boat doing hap hazardous casts and being smashed by grueling waves – plus almost getting tossed overboard a few times, we agree that this irresponsible folly has to end. We’re gutted. But we still have tomorrow!

WE CAN HARDLY BELIEVE the change from yesterday, as we rush out towards the open waters of the Elbow again. With just this one day left, we are excited beyond words that the ocean is one big stoic expanse of calm azure blue water. The fish are here too, and it doesn’t take us long to find the first school of fish – and what a school. The ghostly

shimmering of fifty or more Permit emits from the distorted mirror of the surface film. Soon after, the heavy epoxy fly whistles ominously through the air and takes to the water with a big splash right in front of the nervous mass of fish below. I let it sink for a few seconds and start the ultrafast double-retrieve.

SUDDENLY, I feel a nerve-wracking tug propagate through the line, and as I lift the rod to set the hook, the line starts disappearing through the guides at an unrelenting pace. This time, however, I’m prepared. Every single leader knot has been double-checked for strength, the drag is set to maximum, and I use whatever muscle power my #11WT can muster to prevent the fish from breaking me off on the corals deep below. After what seems like an eternity, the snarl of my tormented fly reel comes to an end, and I manage to turn the fish and bring it towards the surface for a bit. Hereon after, I am my usual confident self, and even an additional couple of maniacal runs can’t prevent me from bringing a pristine 25lb Permit to the boat. Moments later, I sit in the boat with the incredibly beautiful lead-coloured fish in my arms and a big smirk of a smile on my face. We snap a few pictures, and as I put the sturdy fish with its twinkly eyes and leathery skin back into the lukewarm water, I draw a sigh of relief.

As the day progresses, we hook up with several more fish – and land some additional 20lb+ Permit that make us forget completely about all the impatient waiting, the thunder storms, the ones that got away, and not least, the arduous upcoming journey back to little old Denmark. I guess that is the essential magic of sublime fishing; it dissolves whatever time-constrained psychological ballast you’ve been carrying around and provides you with an enticing window of opportunity. It feels divine!

The really big ones evade us this last day on the Elbow, but hey – it is always nice to have a reason to come back!

FACTS ABOUT TURNEFFE ISLAND RESORT

Turneffe Island Resort is a Belizean luxury lodge situated on its own little idyllic island in the southern part of the greater complex of coral and mangrove islands called Turneffe Islands. The island houses around 30 guests who are housed in beachside apartments and cabanas. Aside from the housing facilities, the lodge consists of a main building with a cosy dining hall, an outdoor pool area with its own wooden deck and bar as well as a marina.

Both the setting and the service - are fantastic. The same can be said about the food, and the atmosphere is relaxed and open-hearted. About two-thirds of the visitors on the island are there to dive and snorkel on some of the exceptionally beautiful and fascinating diving sites in the area. The rest are typically there to fish, and they are in good hands. A total of eight passionate and highly professional guides work at the lodge, and they know every single flat, every mangrove tidal current, and every reef in the overwhelmingly big and geographically chaotic island-complex as if it was the back of their laborious hands. Between them, they have in the vicinity of 200 years of experience in saltwater guiding, and most of them are born and raised on the Turneffe Islands, which has given them an enormously shrewd understanding and appreciation of the whole eco system.

Typically, you’ll be fishing from eight o’clock in the morning until five o’clock in the afternoon - both wading and boat casting from the cool and practical boat setup. This means that you have about nine hours of flats and open water fishing every day, and this is more than enough to try out different spots and different fish. One week’s worth of guided fishing - including housing at the resort, costs USD $2,990 in the high season, and it includes delicious lunch packages and cool drinks, so that all you need to worry about is catching that highly prized trophy fish. As a supplement, you can book some night fishing, which is a great idea, if you want to target Tarpon.

The season stretches across the whole year, but especially March, April and May are great for Permit fishing. If you want to go fully focused on a Grand Slam, or if you are a sucker for Tarpon, the period from mid-May until the end of September is the optimal time to visit the lodge. The average size of the Permit is truly impressive with 20lb fish being common and 40-50lb fish being a real possibility – if you’re able to land them that is!

For more info, check out www.turnefferesort.com. Here, you can find up-to-date prices for housing and guiding and book your own trip.