Fishing Report #14
April 27 – May 04, 2025
Welcome to the Caribbean!
The ancient Mayans told that before creating the world as we know it, the gods sent their messengers to traverse the sky, the jungle, and the sea in search of the perfect place where humans could reconnect with their true spirit. They say that when one of them arrived at this coast, where the bay embraces the Caribbean and the wind whispers stories among the mangroves, he didn’t hesitate: “Here,” he said, “will be the home for those who return.”
And he wasn’t wrong. Because there are places with that strange ability to become home, even when they’re thousands of miles away. Places you don’t choose, but that choose you. Where what’s important isn’t just what you catch, but with whom you share each day.
Week after week, rods over shoulders and laughter in the air, this corner becomes a witness to reunions, to conversations that start at breakfast and end under the stars, to anecdotes that no one knows anymore if they were true or part of the lodge’s folklore. But it doesn’t matter. Because what is true is that everyone who comes here is driven by the same passion: that mix of adventure, patience, and madness that is fly fishing.
The Mayans also believed that the first fishermen were created with four elements: wind, salt, sand, and patience. Nothing more. And perhaps that’s the answer. Because those who come here, year after year, don’t just come for the fish or the perfect postcard. They come because this place speaks to them in a language they understand effortlessly.
Because they’re made of the same.
And when the wind blows just right, the salt tingles on the skin, the sand crunches underfoot, and patience becomes ritual, they know—without needing to explain—that they’ve come home.
The first day of fishing began with easterly winds and some scattered clouds that didn’t seem intent on ruining the day. Noemí and Tom enjoyed a varied day: tarpons, bonefish, shots at schools, and a solitary permit that got the heart racing. But as often happens, when you set out with a specific species in mind, the sea seems to sense it. That was the case for Noemí, who had arrived with the dream of catching a barracuda… but they, mischievous, decided to hide.
Brothers Blake and Gordon not only celebrated reuniting with their rods after a long time but also both managed to catch the first permits of their lives. Double celebration, double joy. They attempted to crown the feat with a Grand Slam, but the tarpons, capricious, didn’t agree. Catherine, on the other hand, did manage to get them to cooperate and signed the first Grand Slam of her life, while David accompanied her with another beautiful permit that had the guide jumping in the boat.
Tuesday was a kind of climatic déjà vu of Monday: easterly winds that at times timidly shifted northeast, scattered clouds, and a sun that didn’t want to miss the action. Christ added his name to the list of “first permits,” and the count kept growing. Noemí, this time, did manage to break the curse and caught her long-awaited barracuda. Persistence and tenacity, duly rewarded.
Midweek, the easterly winds were already a constant, as were the playful clouds that came and went. Richard joined the club of permit fishermen with a beautiful specimen, and for the third consecutive night, dinner started with our official ritual: the indispensable shot of tequila. Fortunately, it’s a tradition that always finds replenishment. The permit counter kept growing thanks to Catherine, David, and Tom, who didn’t want to be left behind.
Thursday stood out for the variety of species, although opportunities with permits were also present. Richard fulfilled a dream many of us have: seeing dozens of bonefish tailing, walking over the flats, and fishing among them as if time had stopped. Catherine and David shone with a snook that fought until the end. The list of species caught among everyone was once again as rich as it was extensive. A biodiversity feast with rod in hand.
Friday was almost a looped repetition of the previous days, at least in terms of weather. But that didn’t prevent Catherine from having one of those mornings that remain in memory: first cast of the day, a solitary permit on the horizon… fish on! And not just any permit: the largest of her life. She tried to complete the circle with another Grand Slam, but the tarpons, for the second time that week, decided it wasn’t their day. Gordon also increased the week’s permit count, while Blake, after a fierce battle with another large specimen that escaped, was rewarded with a formidable snook that garnered applause and praise upon returning to the lodge.
With the satisfaction of a job well done, the group faced the last day without pressures or pending goals. They simply went out to enjoy, to let themselves be surprised by what the bay wanted to offer. And believe us: nothing was missing from the menu. What a beautiful way to end a week that had everything, but above all, had that which always unites us: shared passion and the undiminished desire to return.
Because when the wind blows just right, the salt tingles on the skin, the sand gets between your toes, and patience becomes ritual, the circle completes. And then we understand what the gods knew from the beginning: that fishermen, made of wind, salt, sand, and patience, will always recognize this corner of the Caribbean as their home.
Weather
Throughout the week, a stable pattern of easterly winds prevailed, with slight variations to the northeast at times during the day. Speeds remained between 12 and 17 mph within the bay, providing favorable conditions for navigation and fishing. Cloud cover was variable but generally did not affect the development of the days. Tides were well-marked and predictable, facilitating planning and access to different fishing areas.
Flies
As often happens at this time of year, the classics never fail. Permits responded well to proven patterns like the Flexo Crab, Casa Blanca Crab, ESB Spawning Shrimp, in olive, beige, light brown, and white tones. White, in particular, proved surprisingly effective in cleaner water and high light situations, allowing for subtle yet visible presentations.
Bonefish couldn’t resist the classic Gotcha and Crazy Charlie, especially in clear, shallow waters. Tarpons, when they decided to participate, took well to Deceivers and Black & Purple in generous sizes, with good silhouette and movement. For barracudas, large, bright streamers with plenty of action—and strong hooks—were key.
As always, observation, patience, and a good first cast made all the difference.
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
