Here is a quick flashback to March and a trip to the Brittish Virgin Islands.
This March I took the most amazing vacation ever. We had this family vacation planned for almost two years.
I have spent countless hours daydreaming about sailing, fishing, and pretending to be a pirate.
Imagine having your own personal sailboat with a captain, private chef, and the most amazing beaches in the world.
However, if you follow the blog or are signed up for the newsletter, reading about luxurious vacations is not what you are interested in. The fishing is what you came for.
I was really under powered, rod wise on this trip, so I called Jim Teeny for a heavier fly rod. The heaviest rod I own is a five weight. He suggested a nine weight. I told him I had done some research on the fish in the area and they did not seem to be that big, so I asked for a seven weight. I should have listened to him. I am not sure how many fish broke me off, and I have never been in my backing as many times as during this trip.
The first night we arrived at Norman Island. This is a party island and really isn't conducive to fishing. It has steep banks and lots of boat traffic. After dinner I was jonesing to fish so bad that I asked our captain what my options were and he said I could not legally drive the dingy, but he could tether me out on a rope and I could just fan cast from the dingy. I cast for hours and hours without even a nibble.
The wind was howling and I was super tired. It was late and dark. I was about to call it a night, when I heard the captain yell that there was a school of black-eyed jacks under the sailboat. I made a perfect cast next to the boat and on my first strip I was into something very angry. The fish made a b-line right at me and was ripping my line out at record speed. After the fish swam past me, he turned 180 degrees and started heading back toward me. I stripped as fast as I could, wound the line back on the reel, and he broke me off. This was my first taste of fly fishing the BVI.
The next day we were making a long sail to another island. The captain suggested I grab one of the trolling rods and let some line out. When trolling in these areas, you never know what you will hook. I let the line out and cracked open a beer. About the time I finished my beer, I heard the clicker go off. I grabbed the rod. It wasn't a fast running fish like the black-eyed jack I had dealt with earlier, but more of a steadier pump and pull. I brought the fish close to the boat without much trouble, except for when he saw me. He didn't care much for the way I looked and went nuts. I finally got him close enough that Captain Garreth could grab him with a set of looong pliers. It was a big barracuda loaded with teeth. Between the teeth and the big treble hooks swinging from the Rapala, I wanted no part of this cluster.
A quick picture and the fish was back in the water. I put the line back out and cracked open another beer. Sure enough, as soon as I finished the beer I caught another barracuda. This "pattern" worked for three barracudas.
The next night we moored the boat at Leverick Bay on Virgin Gorda Island.
After dinner and a pirate show (of which Christy was a finalist in a conch blowing contest), I planned to head off to bed.
We were moored right next to Richard Branson's yacht, of the Virgin Records, Airlines, and Mobile. He had the lights from his boat shining in the water and we could see four- and five-foot-long tarpon eating bait fish.
I grabbed my fly rod and made a few casts. They were too smart for that. Reality struck me and I realized that if I did hook one of these monsters there was no way I could do anything and I would probably have a big tangled mess between me and Sir Richard Branson's boat. I thought it would be a good idea to just call it a night.
It was now time to hit the Island of Anagada. Anagada is famous for its bonefish flats. After lunch we took a taxi to the flats. As we were driving toward the flats, we drove over a bridge. I looked in the water and thought I saw some fish. The taxi driver said the bridge is where he would pick us up in a couple of hours. I thought, if we don't get anything on the flats, we can hit the pool under the bridge. The driver stopped in front of someone's yard and said, "Just cut through here. The flats are just through this yard." OooohhhhKay. When we got to the flats, the water was dirty and the sky was over cast. I knew this would be tough fishing. After just a few minutes of wading, I saw a bonefish. I made a cast, a horrible cast. The fly landed on the fishes head with a big splash. He didn't move. I stripped the fly, he followed. I paused, he paused. We played this game all the way to my feet. When he saw me, he split. I walked for what I thought was days without seeing another fish. Just as Earl and I started to think this was a waste of time, I heard a small splash. I looked to my right and saw a bonefish about twenty feet away. I made a perfect cast in the direction he was headed. He followed the fly. When I paused he ate it.
I did a strip set and all hell broke loose. My drag was humming. I started laughing. How can such a small fish have so much power? I looked at Earl, and he had the video camera going. This was way cool. The fish slowed and I reached for the line to strip him in. To my surprise, it was my backing I was stripping in. I fought the fish for a few minutes and just as I was getting him to my feet, he popped free. I was OK with that. We only had a few minutes left before the cab driver would be at the bridge, so we headed over there. The water under the bridge was boiling with action. There was a school of baitfish getting devoured by baby snook and lady fish. I decided it would be fun to put on a gurgler top-water fly. I was getting hits or landing fish on every cast. They were very small, but still fun and way more powerful than any of the trout back home. The cab driver showed up and let me fish for a few more minutes before we had to leave.
My last night of fishing we were at Peter Island. I had Captain Garreth take me over to some rocks that looked like they may hold some fish. I was getting hits on my clouser, but they were just little pecks. I figured they were just little reef fish. I thought if I had a small fly I could catch a few cool looking fish with which to end the trip. I looked through my bag and found some small flies I use for bluegill back home. I tied one on and starting catching small reef fish. It was fun, but getting very dark. I decided I would make one last cast. I threw out and hooked a small fish about the size of my hand. Just as I got him close to my feet, I looked down and saw a reef shark about three feet long. The shark was right next to my feet. He acted as if I wasn't even there. I was amazed at how slow and carefree he was acting. He slowly swam toward the small fish on the end of my line. Before I knew what was going on, my fish was in the shark's mouth and he was slowly swimming toward Cuba. I realized there was nothing I could do. I doubt this shark even knew he was hooked. I listened to the drag of my vintage Hardy fly reel for a few seconds and just pointed the rod at the fish and broke him off. That was a pretty cool experience, so I was ready to call it a night. The trip was coming to an end and it was time to say good bye to paradise and head back to reality.
Friday, January 27, 2012 at 11:20AM 
Mike fighting a fish while we are still getting ready. 
Mace with a typical brown from this lake.
My next fish was a brown.
This one tried to jump in the boat.
Each cast could be a brown or rainbow.
Mace stopped looking at his fishfinder long enough to catch one.
