Fishing Report #12
April 13 – 20, 2025
Welcome to the Caribbean,
When the Mayan gods distributed gifts among the creatures of the sea, they did it —like everything gods do— with whimsy, flair, and a touch of mischief.
To the permit, they gave mystery. To the tarpon, strength. To the bonefish, elegance. And to the barracuda… they gave teeth.
But not just that.
They also gave it sarcasm. The speed of an angry lightning bolt. And a stare that says, “Don’t talk to me unless it’s urgent.”
Ancient fishermen feared it. Not for its size or ferocity, but because they said it was the only fish that knew too much. That when a barracuda stared you down before striking, it wasn’t looking at you —it was looking at the fear you carried.
They called it K’i’ik’el Kay, the fish of fast blood.
They said it came from a lightning bolt that Chaac hurled into the sea after losing a bet with Itzamná.
And ever since, whenever someone fished without respect or thought they were greater than the sea, a barracuda awaited them at the end of the cast. Not to punish them.
But to remind them that no one stays on top of the water forever.
Because if the permit teaches you patience, and the snook whispers about adaptation, the barracuda reveals the most uncomfortable truth: You’re not always going to win.
And although this week we didn’t have Chaac’s lightning splitting the sky —at least not literally— there were moments when the wind stared back at us with barracuda eyes: sharp, defiant, unpredictable.
But, as my grandfather used to say, “If the weather gets tough, it’s not a reason to complain… it’s a reason to learn how to read it.”
So, here’s the battle report: what happened in the bay, who came searching for their own myths, and what stories were written with rod, salt, and patience.
Monday began like a classic day in Espiritu Santo Bay. Scattered clouds, gentle eastern winds, and a forecast full of action. And it delivered: plenty of casting opportunities for the coveted permit, a few tarpon, snook, and bonefish. The only weak links were the tippets and leaders, which, for no apparent reason, were responsible for keeping the permit scoreboard empty that day.
Tuesday mirrored Monday in terms of weather, until the afternoon, when the wind picked up slightly. After the poor performance of the previous day’s tippets and leaders, everyone got serious about this critical part of their setup —and it paid off. Vinny, Joe, John, and Kip pushed the permit count upward. Kip earned a special mention, not just for landing a fish well over 20 lbs., but because it was also his first permit ever —a moment that, of course, was celebrated with a traditional shot at dinner.
Wednesday kicked off with signs of increasing wind —not quite uncomfortable, but persistently annoying. Casting opportunities remained solid, but the permits weren’t feeling generous. Thankfully, tarpon, snook, bonefish, and a beautiful barracuda kept things lively.
On Thursday, wind speeds increased a few miles per hour and shifted northeast. Clouds were more concentrated over the bay, but our guides still managed to locate active fish. Steve added a permit to the scoreboard, and while chances for the rest of the group were fewer than in previous days, they were still there.
Friday started like Thursday, but by the afternoon the wind had settled back into an easterly flow and decreased slightly. Clouds were quirky in their distribution, but conveniently stayed over the lodge rather than the bay. The drop in wind speed was well taken advantage of by this experienced group, earning Joe a Grand Slam that came very close to becoming a Super Grand Slam. Everett added another permit, as did Rick —his first one ever. Meanwhile, Dennis faced off with a true Goliath of the species, which slipped away just inches before our guide could tail it. It left us all with a bittersweet feeling that we still celebrated during dinner that night.
The final day of fishing arrived with moderate winds, clear skies, and a collective sense of a job well done. Joe, Everett, and Rick all added more permits to the board. Rick had a one-on-one fight with a silver spear —the kind we irreverently call barracudas— that pushed his skills and gear to the limit. The day wrapped up with loads of bonefish, tarpon, and a few snook, a perfect close to a week that left us more than satisfied.
Weather
Winds ranged from 10 to 22 mph, predominantly from the east, with some northeast shifts midweek. Tides were stable, with good water levels and productive activity windows, especially during the mornings.
Flies
The permit showed strong preferences for the classics: ESB Yellow Eyes Raghead, Casa Blanca, and Flexo Crab. Some were fooled by personalized versions of Spawning Shrimp. Tarpon, as usual, responded well to white, chartreuse, and black-purple EP Baitfish patterns. Barracuda, when they showed up, struck with fury at long, flashy, aggressive streamers. And the bonefish… well, they continue to be the bay’s gentlemen —anything presented with delicacy and good intention, they’ll gladly take.
Because in the end, it’s not just about catching fish. It’s about listening to what the sea wants to tell you… even if sometimes, it says it with teeth.
We’ll see you next week with a brand-new report. Don’t hesitate to reach out to our friends at The Fly Shop® to hear firsthand what life is like in Espiritu Santo Bay, inside the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve (which means “Where the sky begins” in the Mayan language).
Taak ulak k’iin and Ka xi’ik teech utsil
(See you later and good luck, in the Mayan language)
Martín Ferreyra Gonzalez and the entire ESB Family
800-669-3474 | 530-222-3555 | travel@theflyshop.com | ESB Lodge
