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Belize Permit ReportBy: Capt. Bill Blanton
Turneffe Atoll is a great location for bonefish, permit and, seasonally, tarpon. The bones tend towards the small size, but the permit are plentiful and reasonably willing, by permit standards, anyway, to take a fly. My partner, Jamie Anderson, and I agreed that we'd fish almost exclusively for permit. Fortunately, our guide, Dion Young, was enthusiastic about that, so we were all set. There are two kinds of permit fisheries at Turneffe: the flats and the lagoon. On the flats, you do the usual thing, look for tailers or fish that are cruising in the shallow water searching for food. In the lagoon, which is quite a bit deeper, you can find large schools of permit cruising, daisy-chaining, lolling on the surface. It's not really flats fishing, though we were always in (deep) poling depth water. It is exciting as hell, though, to see a school of as many 100 permit swarming around on the surface. One day we fished several schools of at least 20 fish each. On another day, we followed a school of more than 100 fish for about two-and-a-half hours, casting to them almost the entire time.
As the school moved along, we'd pole with them. If they sped up and out-raced the pole, we'd power up, circle around them and start poling again. The first morning of the trip, I got a hookup in the lagoon. The fish made one long run, then spit the fly. On the day when we fished the big school, I got the permit heebie-jeebies — bad knots, mysterious break-offs, green-horn hookups. In all, I had bites from five fish and landed none. One in particular was a large fish that took off like the proverbial freight train, deep into my backing. I thought I had him, but at the end of that long run, he put it in warp speed and broke the 20-pound tippet. There are few sadder sights in the world than reeling in 100 or so yards of backing plus 100 feet of fly line with nothing on the end but a limp strand of fluorocarbon. While I was experiencing the yips, Jamie calmly landed our first permit, a nice fish in the 15- to 20-pound range, proving once again that youth and talent will beat age and experience every time.
We also had an interesting encounter with an "enhanced" fly. Jamie had captured a dock crab that morning, so he impaled it on a tarpon fly with all the feathers still on and lobbed it out into the school. A 50+ pound permit appeared out of nowhere, gobbled up the fly and took off. The strike was so violent, Jamie couldn't react in time and the fish broke off.
The next day Jamie went diving, so I had the boat to myself. Thinking back on the experience of the day before, I told myself that the fishing gods had not wanted my first fly-caught permit to come from the lagoon. They wanted me to earn it the hard way, on the flats, so that's where I stayed the rest of the trip.
On the second flat Dion and I fished, we saw a pod of three mid-sized permit cruising through the shallows. I made the cast, and they ignored the fly. A few minutes later, we saw another pod of slightly smaller fish. I cast again, started a slow strip, and two fish dove down to check out the fly. The most curious one bit, I struck, then hung on as he burned line. He did all the things permit are famous for — made long runs, pulled hard, tried to shake the fly loose by rubbing his mouth on the bottom. After a few minutes, we had my first-ever fly-caught permit in the boat for picture taking and release. He had eaten a 1/0 tan Puglisi crab.
Shortly after that, I caught a fair-sized bone, so the stage was set to try for a grand slam. I decided against that for reasons I'll explain in a minute, and kept looking for permit. I made a few more casts, one to a single that had to be in the 35-pound range. He ignored my offering, and we got no more permit that day, thought we did pick up a few incidental bones.
The next day Jamie was back on the boat, and we were fired up to go looking for more permit. Unfortunately, the wind had picked up overnight. It was gusting at 25 knots and coming from a direction that made most of the good flats we'd fished before uninhabitable. We worked hard, made a few casts to extremely spooky fish, but ended up getting skunked. The next day, Jamie decided to dive, so I had the boat to myself again. The wind was still blowing hard. Dion and I knew the fishing would be difficult. Despite that, we were determined. On one of the first flats we poled, we spotted a small pod of fish. I made one cast, a fish nipped at the fly but didn't take, then the school spooked and took off.
A few minutes later, we saw a large bone cruising towards us. There was no time to put down the permit rod and pick up a bonefish rod, so I dropped the fly in the water, made a roll cast and watched a 6-pound bone scarf the same 1/0 Puglisi crab my first permit had eaten two days before. The bone wasn't daunted by the heavy permit-sized fly line. He made one scorching run that pulled off about 75 yards of backing, but after that he was pretty much done for. He tried a few mini-runs to left and right and back and forth, then joined us for a brief visit in the boat.
That was two casts for the morning. I didn't make another cast until after lunch when Dion called out, "Permit, 9 o'clock!" I didn't see a thing, but cast anyway and got nothing for the effort. Dion lost sight of the fish, so we moved to another spot. By 3 o'clock, we were feeling a little despondent. We hadn't see another fish of any kind, much less a permit, and things weren't looking too promising. The wind had died down, but the fish didn't seem to be around. Without much hope, we decided to pole one last flat just inside the reef. On the way, we stopped to check out a small saltwater crocodile who was sunning himself, then poled toward a little spit of land that jutted out into the flat. That's where we saw him, a single permit cruising toward us. I made one cast — cast number 4 for the day — and gave the Puglisi crab a slow strip. The permit attacked the fly like a Baptist preacher snatching a drumstick off the buffet table.
This fish, which was about the same size as Jamie's, in the 15- to 18-pound range, didn't make a real long run. He took me into the backing only once and then for about 25 yards. But he was one of those hard-headed critters that doesn't know when it's time to quit. He kept making short runs and shaking his head, trying to throw the fly. Dion expertly maneuvered the boat into deeper water, so the fish couldn't use the hard bottom to rub through the leader or wrap the line around debris. Remembering the break-offs with the lagoon fish, I was determined not to horse this guy and give him an opportunity to snap the tippet. So we went back and forth for a while. I'd get him almost to the boat; he'd take off again. I'd work him back toward the boat; he'd take off yet again. My back was so sore from standing up all day that for a few minutes I had to sit on the casting deck and fight him that way. Finally, we got him close enough to the boat and in a condition where I could put more pressure on him. He sort of rolled over in the water, Dion grabbed him by the tail, and Permit #2 was in the boat.
Riding home, I remembered Steve Huff's adage, "Pole far enough and the fish will find you." We were determined at the beginning of the day to hunt for permit. We kept doing that even though conditions were bad and we weren't seeing any fish. Dion didn't get discouraged even when the fishing was slow … and it paid off in the end. We had two chances to try for a grand slam, after Jamie caught his lagoon permit and a bone, and after I caught my first permit and a bone. We tried it without success after Jamie got his fish, but the experience left me sort of cold. The tarpon fishing is in the deep channels off the lagoon. You blind-cast into water that may be as deep as 30 feet. Occasionally, you see a fish roll, but sometimes you don't see a thing. Jamie did that for about an hour on the afternoon after he caught his permit and bone. We saw a couple of small fish roll, but that was it. The next morning I got up before dawn and did the same drill in the dark, with the same result … nada. In March, the only tarpon around are the little guys, and it just didn't seem worth it to me to make a lot of blind casts for a 5- to 10-pound tarpon. It'd be another story in May, June and July when the big fish are around. Some very large tarpon — up in the 150-pound class — have been pulled out of those channels during the season.
As for bonefish, most of the bonefishing takes place on the reefs that surround the atoll lagoon. It's very shallow water, so small, unweighed flies are a must. The most popular pattern is the Bonefish Bitter in olive. The tan Squimp in size 8 is also good. You can catch dozens of fish in the 3-pound range, with a few larger ones from time to time. Dion says the largest bone he's guided anyone to was 10 pounds. It's a great place for an inexperienced angler. Our group was made up of several orthodontists, some of who focussed on bone fishing and landed 15-20 fish a day. If you want to catch larger bones, you're probably better off poling the permit flats. We saw several in the 6- to 7-pound range while we were looking for permit. For a while, we'd put one angler in the bow with a permit rod while the other stood at ready with a bonefish rod. If we saw bones, angler number two would jump up on the deck and cast for them. This worked fine, but on the last day, when Dion and I were seriously hunting for permit, I never considered pulling out a bonefish rod. The "bonus" bone I lucked into was caught was on my 10-weight permit rod.
As for the permit, they're numerous and much more willing to eat a fly than fish in Florida and some other locations. They're not pushovers, though. During our week at Turneffe, four permit were landed, and Jamie and I accounted for three of them. Again, we had agreed to almost exclusively fish for Permit and most of the orthodontists focused on bonefishing. Still, there were a couple of good anglers in the group who went permit-less. Despite all the time we spent on the flats, we only saw one tailing fish. All the others were cruisers. Jamie jumped out of the boat to wade after the tailer, but the fish spooked before he could get a good shot. An 8-weight is all you need for bones. A 10-weight is the ticket for permit. If you want to pursue the small bones on the wading flats, you might want to bring along a 6-weight. In tarpon season, you'll need an 11- or 12-weight rigged with sinking lines, a clear intermediate and perhaps a deep-water integrated head like the Rio DeepSea or the Scientific Anglers Streamer Express. (For exact info on what gear to bring, see the Yellowstone Angler's Belize gear list).
The flats at Turneffe are covered with small green crabs, and there are a number of patterns that imitate those: the Will Bauer Crab, the Raghead Crab, the Turneffe Island Crab, to name a few. Despite that, both Jamie and I had luck with the large tan Puglisi crab, and Dion says he catches a lot of fish with that pattern.
Finally, the lodge is fantastic, very luxurious, with a great staff. It's the perfect place to take a non-fishing partner. If anyone wants to go, I'm game for another trip. Bill Fly Fish the Everglades with Capt. Bill Blanton |
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