The Fisheries
I had the great fortune of sampling the bonefish fishery over two days in Las Salinas with (from left to right, I’m second from the left) Gilberto Artigas, Felix (Machito) Garcia, and Vinola Valdes (my host). 

All are fishing guides for the Park, and all are excellent guides, casters, and anglers, and are good company. During two days of fishing, we tagged 28 bonefish. The largest fish was 22 inches Fork Length, and the average was 18 inches Fork Length.  The fishing was fantastic, with many singles, pairs, and small groups of hungry fish. The behavior of the fish, the number of fish, and the condition of the habitats all indicated that the conservation plan for the bonefish fishery is successful.

Each day began with a 30 minute car ride that started at Vinola’s house in Jaguey Grande, passed through a guarded gate, and down a long dirt road that traversed a peninsula of mangrove forest. Where the dirt road ended the flats started.  While loading the boats the first morning, a small school of bonefish tailed about 200 feet away.

The boats are approximately 10’ long, and are similar to flat-bottom, square-stern canoes. They are extremely shallow draft, which is essential in Las Salinas – 36 square miles of tailing-depth bonefish flats – a network of open sand, mangroves, and brown algae-covered limestone.  The boats had no engines, so locomotion was by pole only – black mangrove was the material of choice for a push pole. Vinola said it’s common for them to pole 12 miles a day. 

Vinola on the push pole

The business end of a pushpole

Poling any watercraft 12 miles is not easy, but these boats moved through the water quite well with not too much effort (I poled a bit each day, and found the boats very nice to pole).

On the first day, we fished the morning in an area that received freshwater runoff, so the water was tannin stained. This made it hard to see the fish until the sun was high in the sky, but there were plenty of fish we did see. The first couple of fish I caught were going away – we saw the fish as they saw the boat, and I cast in the direction they swam.  It was immediately apparent that these fish don’t see a lot of anglers because most decent casts (and some casts that were not so decent) resulted in a strike.  The guides said that by the end of the winter fishing season, the fish are much more wary. But my guess is that what they think of as a wary fish is still quite aggressive in many other locations – during the offseason, even anglers who are poor casters will catch fish; during the peak season, a competent caster will still catch plenty of fish while the poor casters might catch just a couple fish per day.

In the afternoon of the first day, we moved into an area with less freshwater, and with the clearer water we spotted more fish and had more good shots. Through much of the first day, we were within sight of Pink Flamingos that were scattered across the mangrove flats in every direction. Although noisy, the flamingos were shy, and flew off if we got within a few hundred feet. We tagged 12 bonefish, and lost or released without tagging many more.

On Day Two, we headed in the opposite direction from Day One and again saw bonefish for most of the day.  Early on, after poling across knee-deep sand flats that were apparently fishless, Vinola poled into an expansive shallow flat studded with small red and black mangroves. Sure enough, bonefish were scattered throughout the flat. The challenge became following a hooked bonefish as it weaved through the mangroves. 

I caught the first two fish in a classic situation on this flat. In each instance, we could see a school of 4 or 5 fish slowly weaving through the mangroves. Vinola set us up so I had a cast into an open area among the mangroves. We waited for the fish, I cast into the open area as the fish approached, and caught a fish each time. It would’ve been nice to get photographs of the fish cruising through the mangroves, but I have no self control in those situations and left the camera in the bag.

Day Two was also when I caught my largest bonefish of the trip – 22” fork length (photo below).  Vinola was poling the boat about 60 feet off the edge of the mangrove flat. We spotted the bonefish slowly wander out from the mangroves, and turn left – against our direction of movement. I shot a quick cast to the fish. Although the cast was ahead of the fish, the fly was past the fish by about 3 feet. Rather than risk spooking the fish by stripping the fly toward it as it swam by, I waited until the fish passed and began slowly stripping in the fly to prepare for another cast. The bonefish whipped around and inhaled the fly. Amazing. The behavior of this fish, and of most other fish, combined with the types of flies that worked best, suggested that these bonefish eat a lot of fish.

By the end of the day we’d tagged 16 bonefish and released untagged many more.

Vinola and Gilberto measuring a bonefish prior to tagging

During the two days on the water in Las Salinas, I saw no sharks, and only a few barracuda. Vinola said that sharks are rare in Las Salinas, and the barracuda few and scattered. This is great for bonefish catch and release fishing – properly handled and with few predators, post-release survival should be near 100%.

We had a complete change of scenery on Day Three, when Vinola and I fished Rio Hatiguanico. It was a 30 minute ride downriver in an aluminum bass boat, first past flooded marsh reminiscent of the Everglades, then past mangrove forest with red mangroves that towered 30 – 40 feet overhead.  The water was dark with tannins, but clean.

As the river widened, Vinola slowed and began looking for rolling tarpon at bends in the river and where rivers joined.  It didn’t take long to find active fish – they looked to range from 5 to 15 pounds.  Vinola dropped the anchor to slow our drift (the current was very strong), and I began casting across the current and swimming the fly downstream on an intermediate line.  Within 5 minutes I’d missed a couple strikes and jumped a couple fish.  On one cast, as I stripped in the fly, I missed a strike, jumped a fish, and had another fish take the fly when it landed on the water. Amazing.

Vinola then took me on a tour up a narrowing river branch that fed into the main river. The further we went upstream, the more tunneled it became. At each widening in the river, where the current slowed slightly, we saw rolling tarpon, mostly in the 3 – 5 pound range.  In one wide spot, I saw 3 or 4 schools, each containing more than a dozen juvenile tarpon rolling energetically in unison. Vinola was disappointed – he said that there were usually many more tarpon here. Amazing. 

At one spot we nestled the boat among the mangrove roots and watched the small tarpon roll. There were no other sounds. Vinola said there was no development, no agriculture to pollute the water. The only activity had been decades ago when mangroves were harvested to make charcoal. That harvesting must have taken place away from the river – the mangroves along the river were enormous, and old.

Back on the river, the tide had changed to flood, and Vinola anchored the boat in mid-river where larger tarpon had started to roll. The largest rolling fish were approximately 80 pounds, with many 20 – 50 pound fish.  It appeared the tarpon were moving upstream from the ocean with the tide. Although the strong river current continued to carry water seaward, down near the bottom the tide was pushing ocean water upriver.

Again, cast cross-current and let the fly swing. The first tarpon to eat the fly came up from under the boat and took the fly as I was getting ready to make another cast.  Fortunately, it ran a bit before jumping.  After a lot of acrobatics, a 25 pounder was at the boat.  A few casts later, and another tarpon was on, this one around 30 pounds. A couple more fish and it was time to head back.  Another excellent day.  Vinola said there is no tarpon research being conducted. I hope there is soon.

All material copyright Aaron Adams 2007, 2008, and beyond, unless otherwise noted.