Alaska Guides Fish Mexico

I've read a bit about permit. I've talked to many anglers that have fished for them, some successfully and others not. I know one fly shop owner who figures his first permit cost over $12,000 in trips to Belize and Mexico. I figured it would be great to catch one: a pinnacle in a fly fisher's life. My first view of permit came with my buddy Stacy on the casting platform. Our guide Enrique said, "Excuse me sir, I see the permit." It was our first day flats fishing in Mexico and only moments into the trip. The fish were both huge. We could see their long sickle tails cutting the surface as they worked the skinny water. I was nervous just thinking of how difficult it would be to put a clean cast to them as we approached. Stacy tried, but they spooked as his crab hit the water in what looked to have been a good shot. Line flash. Permit looked nearly impossible to present to. We watched their wakes travel for several hundred yards as they cruised off the flat. It was an awesome sight but at the same time it left us feeling very inadequate. On to the next flat we went. It was my turn on deck. Enrique spotted some smaller permit and I cast a bit short, very concerned about spooking them. A fish looked, but refused. My next cast got a little closer and a fish rushed my crab but refused it at the last moment. I retrieved the line and found that my crab body had separated from the hook. Talk about bad luck. Even when the permit wants to eat, things can go wrong. How do you catch these things? That was it for permit. The tide got a bit high for spotting permit, but was perfect for flooding the mangroves and drawing in the baby tarpon. We wanted to catch some fish. We spent the remainder of the day and the next two chasing tarpon. We managed to catch a bunch. Enrique would say "Excuse me sir, I see the Tarpon." It was music to our ears. Stacy also landed a couple snook. We began to feel like saltwater fly fishermen and built our confidence in approaching spooky fish. Our fourth day provided an unplanned opportunity for bonefish. We managed to arrive early at Casa Blanca and a guide was ready. Bonefish are fun to cast to and fun to land. Hooking bones will definitely lead to screaming reels. Catching them from schools is easy, while casting to individual bonefish seemed like a good way to practice for permit. On day five, we got dropped off on our own flat and lagoon system. We spent hours stalking bonefish. It was a great learning experience as we followed several schools, making mistakes and having some success. My biggest solo bonefish hook-up ended when a shark took chase and the bone broke me off on a mangrove shoot. It was really exciting to watch. I also watched a big barracuda tear through a school I was stalking. He caught and ate a bonefish right in front of me. Day six. We decided to commit to the Permit. Our trip was already a success whatever happened. We were based at Casa Blanca Lodge and had the services of Augustine, an experienced permit guide. There is nothing better than boarding a boat at sunrise as the promise of fly-fishing adventure beckons. We traveled only a short distance to our first flat. Augustine worked hard to slow the boat as a stiff wind tried to propel us quickly down the flat. Visibility was limited in the still low angle light and rippled water. Suddenly Augustine was swearing and turning the boat. He poled hard and then after some distance started the motor. Stacy and I had no idea what was going on until we were back upwind on the flat. Apparently, we had come right upon a school of bonefish and jacks mudding with at least one big permit in the mix. Augustine managed to move away in time to avoid spooking the permit. We made a big circle and then poled back down the flat, catching up with the fish. Augustine got Stacy into position for a down wind cast. I could not see anything but a mud cloud from my seated position, but Augustine told Stacy to cast. Stacy put a cast right at the edge of the mud and Augustine screamed "more to the left", just as Stacy watched a big permit eat his crab fly. All I witnessed was line ripping away behind a dark streak. "Oh, thats Ok" said Augustine. Permit on. It happened. Wow, those things really go. Then they go again. Then they go again. Then it's a tug of war for upwards of forty minutes or so depending on the size of the fish. Then you get the picture if all goes well. Beyond that, you just have to experience it for yourself. I jumped out and held the boat while Stacy and Augustine got out and landed the fish. After pictures and a cold beer to celebrate, it was off to a new spot and my chance for a first Permit. I was happy for Stacy. I wanted a permit, but really did not expect one. Would lightning strike again? The sun was now higher and Augustine opted for a shelf adjacent to deeper water. Even from the bow, it was hard for me to see very far ahead in the deeper water. I readied seventy feet of line and waited for Augustine to direct my cast. Then Augustine was swearing again and I turned to see what the problem was. A permit had appeared 90 degrees to the right of Augustine and was cruising right toward the boat. Apparently Augustine was mad that he had not seen it further out. There was no chance to turn the boat for my cast. The fish was surely going to spook. He must have just come off the bottom and been focused on feeding. I did the only thing I could do. I flipped a cast over my right shoulder. The fly landed in front of the fish and he started coming. Augustine yelled strip, so I started striping. Stop, yelled Augustine and when I did, the permit ate my crab fly. He was only about ten feet from the boat when he ate. Stacy and I were looking right at him. I strip set and I was on. Permit hooked. I was excited and Augustine was yelling again, because I was standing in the middle of sixty feet of flyline. In order to make the cast, I had to pivot and my left foot was right in the middle of the coils I had laid out for a long forward cast. Everyone was momentarily stupefied, including the permit. Then he hit the gas and peeled out toward South America. As line swirled around my feet, I jumped in the air and pointed my toes to the sun. I'm not very flexible, but apparently, permit induced adrenaline is very powerful. My contortions worked and the fly line cleared and continued to flow, way into the backing. Augustine was incredulous. He stopped swearing and started laughing. He could not believe I had made the cast, not kept the permit from eating the fly by stripping it away and not wrapped line around my legs. After 45 min, I kissed my first permit. I hope it won't be my last, but I consider myself blessed. All I can say to those who are trying to catch number one…it is worth it. Especially, when they make you eat a scorpion drowned in tequila back at the lodge, while everyone toasts your success. I wonder if Augustine is retelling a version of my gringo line dance to every permit client he has? Not that guides would ever do that. "Fishing consists of a series of misadventures interspersed by occasional moments of glory." - Howard Marshall

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