Wind and Tides

The great Stu Apte wrote a book about some of his half-century of flats fishing called Of Wind and Tides.  That title continually ran though my head as both of those vital variables set up perfectly for an entire morning and into the afternoon.  Light wind and low tides.

I'm not sure where I first heard the term "fantasy fishing."  Probably in the early 80's guiding in Alaska or something.  I've used it for 35 years, but rarely is there actually such a thing.  It doesn't mean really good, great, amazing, fantastic, or any such lesser description.  It really means stuff dreams are made of.  What we think of when we think of paradise, perfection, wouldn't change a thing.  What we fantasize about.  I rarely see it, but it happens every year or two.  Usually around a hatch, for trout.  Sometimes for a few hours down south, on a flat.

This time it was day 5 of a 7 day trip last week.  We were completely alone, somewhere along the Yucatan Peninsula a couple hours from any sort of civilization.  There was a slight breeze barely moving the surface of the water, just enough to easily see any target near or far, yet assist us into great double-hauls to 50-70 feet.  Hero casts.  There were close fish too. Light clouds covered the sky to help conceal our presence and mask shitty fish-spooking casts.  The warm sun was filtered just enough to prevent overheating in the 80 degree air and shield any bright glares.

The morning low tide ensured the fish were looking up from the 2-4 feet of clear water they were basking in.  We could see them all, and they could see anything on the surface and take a closer look.  They rolled, "finned" slowly on the surface, and just laid up motionless hoping a Gurgler would come blurping by.  We obliged. Our guide Juan had us in the right spot for it of course, well away from the everyday fishing grounds.  

This fantasy happens on the occasional morning with similar conditions, but not all day! One stop maybe.  This time though, it went on and on, and the realization set in after a few hours that we were right in the middle of the dream.  Perfect wind and tides, surrounded by the perfect number and size of 15-30 pound "greatest sportfish on earth."  And they wanted to eat.  Fantasy Fishing. 

Dry, wet, and deeper.  Today it was the dry.

Fish came after it!  I don't know how the head is tied.