Just off the coasts of the Belizian mainland, in the Caribbean Sea, Turneffe Islands and the fishing lodge Turneffe Island Resort is situated – and here, some of the best flats fishing in the world can be found. In the following, Rasmus Ovesen takes you to the waters surrounding Turneffe Island, where fierce bonefish, permit, and tarpon strike and throw themselves into heady and brutal fights.
We’ve been on the ocean-an extensive immensity of flickering azure water – for less than an hour, and already Martin’s reel is screaming hoarsely under the influence of a permit’s agitated escape attempts for greater depths. The powerful fish is struggling to reach the subaqueous shelter of the jagged coral reefs below, and as Martin puts maximum pressure on the fish, the contours of his 10weight rod depicts a dangerously closed arc against the deep-blue and bottomless sky. During the next fifteen minutes a real dogfight ensues where the two counterparts take turns having the upper hand – and in the merciless tropical heat, the sweat starts trickling down Martin’s forehead, which is increasingly furrowed by concern. There is no doubt, however, that the fish is marked by the on-going battle, too. It starts to display signs of weakness, and eventually Martin manages to systematically pull the fish towards the surface. Once up along the boat side, the guide firmly grabs the fish’s tail, and a second later we have company in the boat in the form of permit weighing around 25lbs.
It has taken us two exhausting days with transfers in New York and Houston as well as a boat ride from Belize City to get here. But now that we have just landed our first Turneffe Island permit, all of these hardships are suddenly forgotten. I shoot a series of pictures of the muscular fish, which strikes me as something really special with its silvery flanks, lead-grey markings and strong yellow brushstrokes. Afterwards, Martin leans over the boat side with the fish in hand, submerges the fish in the warm water, lets it wrench free and then breaks out in an exhausted smile as the fish disappears into the depths.
The guideis quickly on the search for permit again, and I have now taken my place in the front of the boat with the fly rod in a tense iron grip and a mess of loose line at my feet. My vigilant gaze wanders across the distorting film of the ocean trying to pierce through to the shadow world below, as the boat zigzags forward along the reef’s pronounced depth curve. Suddenly, a massive school of fish materialises like a compelling and ghostly mass of gloomy flashes, and a hollowing flush of excitement runs through me. In the same instant, the hoarse growl of the boat engine dies away, and in the sudden acoustic vacuum, I hear the guide’s agitated voice calling out behind me; ’11 o’clock, twenty metres, “cast!”
The school is right there along the boat side in about two to three metres of water, but I have understood the guide’s eager orders and obey with mechanical punctuality. The heavy epoxy fly whistles forward 
through the air prompted by the resolute accelerations of the fly rod, and with a powerful double haul, I cast the fly to an assumed 20 metres. It lands ahead of me with a hollow splash, and a 30-second long eternity follows where the fly simply sinks freely. Meanwhile, the school of fish moves sedately forward with a collision course directly towards the sinking fly. And as if the voice came from somewhere inside me, I start the lightning quick retrieve just as the guide stammers a quivering’strip!’
The fly now struggles onwards and upwards in the water column at a high speed. When it reaches the boat side, a big permit suddenly turns behind the fly and heads for the deep again – so fast and sudden, that I am completely in shock. I am a trembling mess of nerves as I execute another cast and let the fly sink. This time, I only manage two strips before a massive tug spreads through the line and directly into my soul. The strike is instant and instinctive, and a fraction of a second later the rod is critically bent and line starts flying off the reel at a shocking pace. As if completely contemptuous of the frail mono-filament, I pull against the fish in an attempt to prevent it from reaching the coral reefs further down. The manoeuvre is successful, and a lengthy brawl ensues in the open water masses. Ten minutes later, I sit in the boat with an incredibly beautiful lead-coloured permit with big twinkly eyes and leathery skin in my arms – a fish which the guide estimates to be around 25lbs. We have hardly got started and already we have each caught a trophy permit on the fly. We can hardly believe our luck! The guide isn’t set on letting us rest on our laurels, though. He already has the motor in gear ready to take us to the next spot. Now the time has come for the bonefish and tarpon.
In the evening, as we sit in the dining hall at the charming and atmospheric Turneffe Island Resort and eat a dinner worthy of royalty, we can look back on a hectic and exciting day of fishing. Everything has happened really quickly, but as the evening progresses, our experiences slowly settle. We have stealth-fished for bonefish in knee-high water on the immense flats, observed terrifyingly big barracudas hunt destitute schools of prey, caught an enormous sting ray on the fly, and cast a rolling tarpon in the mangrove tidal channels. We couldn’t have asked for more, and this is just the start. Ahead of us, we have five days of intense fishing, and even though the weather ends up radically impacting on where we can fish, lots of exciting experiences await us.
The darkness thickens and a hoarse whisper can be heard in the palm trees as we walk along the beach back to our incredibly cosy cabana. Tomorrow’s fishing will take place mainly on the inside of the protective coral reefs, but we have no clue about this yet. We are busy getting into bed and falling asleep, because the guide will be waiting for us in the marina at eight o’clock in the morning – ready to fire up the engine and take us out on new fishing adventures.
Our second day of fishing arrives, and we now learn the true extent of how challenging flats fishing can be. The winds have picked up during the night, but there is still relatively calm water to be found on the 
inside of the porous coral reefs, that demarcate the flats and the now roaring ocean. In the forthcoming days, we find massive schools of bonefish here – schools consisting of more than a hundred fish, and we now fully concentrate on catching a few weighty individuals. The bonefish, however, aren’t gullible or rash, and it isn’t until later that we understand that only the right combination of cold-blooded and correct fishing strategy, lively flies, and caution will lead to results. The first couple of times that we find ourselves in the middle of the massive schools of nervous fish we are nowhere near cold-blooded enough, however, along the way we find the necessary composure and stoicism. On the best days, we each land and release a good handful of fish in very shallow water – fish that deliver lightning quick and panicky runs across the rugged corals. Needless to say, we only land a modest percentage of the fish, but each of them is something really special. With their chrome and compact frames, their contrasted scales, discrete charcoal flank stripes and big, expressive eyes these charming speed racers are completely irresistible.
One fish on the flats, however, is faster than the bonefish – and that’s the barracuda. It quite simply has to be faster than the bonefish, because it has a propensity for the taste of bonefish meat. Every day, we see big, ominous shadows of barracudas patrolling near the schools of bonefish, and every now and then we experience frenetic terror attacks where bewildered bonefish are cut in half in violent explosions of water, sea foam and blood. (Thinking about it, is seems pretty evident why the bonefish is a fairly nervous being).
We soon discover that just like the bonefish, the barracuda has a sharp eye and a skeptical mind. We have brought along both big streamers and wire traces, but the barracudas don’t throw themselves haphazardly at our flies. Only the most convincing flies are capable of fixing the barracuda’s gaze, and only the speediest retrieve will trigger a take. We manage to hook several of these flats terrorists, and especially one of them, a ferocious 20lb+ fish, has etched itself onto my memory. Just like a ghost, it appears out of nowhere in the wake of a school of bonefish, and it takes the big pulsating streamer with the greatest self-confidence and superiority right before my feet. I strike the fish hard, the fish is hooked and all of a sudden all anchorage of time disappears and crumbles away inside me. In a matter of what feels like a split second, the startled fish has jumped a metre high out of the water three times, and soon after the fly line disappears followed by the majority of the backing. When the fly reel’s tormented snarl finally comes to an end, the fish is more than a hundred metres away, and I can now begin the laborious work of pursuing the fish and make up for lost ground. Fifteen minutes later, when I sit there on the flat with the huge, streamlined barracuda in my arms, a surge of euphoria and infatuation rushes through me, and for some time I have completely forgotten both bonefish and permit. For the remainder of the day, I leave the light bonefish equipment in the boat, and stalk more of these bestial assassins.
We still have unfinished business with Belize’s most prominent gamefish, however – the elusive tarpon. This will be the focal point during the coming days of fishing.
The Mangrove Tidal Tunnels is our primary hunting preserve for the last couple of days, and we fully commit ourselves to catching one of the staunch silver kings that hold in these waters. Especially at high tides, the tarpon surge through these lush, deep, tidal channels and even though the season is a bit premature, we see several fish hunting here. Landing one of them proves difficult, however, not least because we have severe difficulties getting used to the radical shift in strike technique which is required to hook one of these bony-mouthed fish. Nonetheless, we manage to hook up with a decent handful of fish, that reply with metre-high jumps and irresistibly powerful runs that expose the backing in a matter of split seconds.
One of these tarpon takes the fly resolutely as I fish it cross current close to the edge of the mangrove. I set the hook with a couple of powerful tugs on the line, and in that same instant a silvery fish of about 90lbs erupts in an elegant metre-high jump and shreds the silence as it plunges into the water again with a deafening splash. The fight is on, and during the next 10 minutes, I put maximum pressure on the gear. The fish is strong as hell but not invincible, and in the end I have brought the muscular fish up along the boat side, and the guide grabs a hold of the leader with the fish in reach. The triumph seems within range, but suddenly this crucial moment turns into a nightmare. The fish wrenches free of the guide’s eager grip, my rod suddenly flexes to the cork and a loud snap follows as the rod breaks in two just above the handle. The fish mobilizes its last reserves of power and pushes deeper into the water with great force. The harm is done, and even though I manage to bring the fish to the boat once more with the now hopelessly amputated fly rod, the battle concludes with the big fish casting off the fly. And that is as close as we get with the tarpon!
All must come to an end, and after five days of intense fishing, it is time to rinse off the salt-stained gear one last time and pack up. Meanwhile, we can look back at a trip with lots of intense fights, exciting stealth fishing for bonefish, big red snappers, garfish, jacks, rainbow runners, barracudas, a supplementary permit, and more than a handful of wasted chances of landing a tarpon. The sea has been rough the last couple of days, but at the same time it has been generous with its abundant riches. We have seen playful dolphins, curious sea turtles, nurse sharks on the prowl, mill wheel-sized rays, and not least grassing manatees. The fishing has been world class, but as we head out of the Turneffe Island Resort marina bound for Belize City we have been blessed with much more than just the fishing. We have been enriched with a grand overall experience – one of those experiences where the fishing, the nature, the company, the service, and the settings amount to something greater than the value of the individual components.
FACTS ABOUT TURNEFFE ISLAND RESORT:
Turneffe Island Resort is a Belizian luxury lodge situated on its own little idyllic island in the Southern part of the greater complex of coral and mangrove islands called Turneffe Islands. The island houses around 30 guests who are housed in beachside apartments and cabanas. Aside from the housing facilities, the lodge consists of a main building with a cosy dining hall, an outdoor pool area with its own terrace and bar, as well as a marina. 
The setting, service and the food is fantastic, with a relaxed and open-hearted atmosphere. About two-thirds of the visitors on the island are there to dive and snorkel on some of the exceptionally beautiful and fascinating diving sites in the area. The rest are typically there to fish, and they are in good hands. A total of eight passionate and highly professional guides work at the lodge, and they know every single flat, every mangrove tidal current, and every reef in the overwhelmingly big and geographically chaotic island-complex as if it was the back of their laborious hands. Between them, they have around 200years of experience guiding, and most of them have been born and raised on Turneffe Islands, which has given them an enormously shrewd understanding and appreciation of the whole ecosystem.
Typically, you’ll leave for the flats at eight o’clock in the morning right after breakfast. You’ll then fish until five o’clock in the afternoon both wading and from the cool and practical boats. This means that you have about nine hours of flats and open water fishing every day, and this is more than enough to try out different spots and different fish. One week’s worth of guided fishing including housing at the resort, costs 2,550US Dollars in the high season, and it includes delicious lunch packages and cool drinks, so that all you need to worry about is catching that highly-prized trophy fish. As a supplement, you can book some night fishing, which is a great idea if you want to target tarpon as to a large extent, they are night-active.
The season stretches across the whole year, since permit, bonefish, and barracuda can be found on and near the flats year around. However, if you want to go full-hearted for a grand slam, or if you are a sucker for tarpon, the period from mid-May until the end of September is the optimal time to visit the lodge. The average size of the fish is impressive, and every year 200lb+ fish are caught.
For more info, check out www.turnefferesort.com. Here you can find up-to-date prices for housing and guiding and book your own trip.
Published in August 2012
