Fishing Report #15
May 04 – 11, 2025
Welcome to the Caribbean!
Some weeks, you show up with everything ready: flawless rods, freshly tied leaders, flies arranged in their boxes like precious gems, and a heart pumped full of hope. The forecast looks promising, spirits are high, and even breakfast seems to taste like good luck.
And yes, this was one of those great weeks. No doubt about it. Conditions were favorable, the fish were there, opportunities appeared—and more than a few turned into unforgettable catches. But —because there’s always a “but” in these stories— it was also a week marked by what makes this place so special: the constant challenge.
Because even in one of the best permit fisheries in the world—and we don’t say that lightly, just ask any rod that’s come back shaking—this fish remains the master of suspense. It might be three feet away, staring straight at you, following your fly like it’s read the script… and still not eat.
The bay, like a good host with character, greets you with a crooked smile, shifting winds, and fish that look but don’t give in easily. This was one of those weeks. The kind that teaches without lecturing. The kind that makes you a better angler, even if your ego doesn’t quite want to admit it.
Because fishing at Espiritu Santo Bay doesn’t reward persistence—it tests it. It measures your patience in silence, trims your ego with small decisions, and reminds you that sometimes, the most valuable catch isn’t what you bring to the boat, but what you take home in your head.
And yet, you come back. Always.
Because even when the scoreboard doesn’t explode with numbers, there are other tallies that do add up. The laughter at the lodge. The shared silence when a fish slips away. The knowing looks after a bad cast. The conversations that start with flies and end with stories of life.
And because, at the end of the day, you know that permit that didn’t eat… is still out there. Waiting.
Fishing:
Monday brought easterly winds and scattered clouds that, thankfully, didn’t interfere much. Mike kicked off the week with a permit, adding a barracuda and some bonefish to round out a diverse day. Bob and Chris had plenty of shots at tarpon and permit—those classic encounters that flirt with success and frustration in equal measure. The rest of the group wasn’t left out: snook, tarpon, bonefish… as if the bay wanted to lay all its cards on the table from day one. For David, it was his first day ever saltwater fishing—a deep dive into new lessons, where every cast was a learning curve and every tug a reminder that this is a very different kind of game.
Tuesday started with a steady east wind and a few more clouds that chose the worst moments to drift by. Chris added a couple more permits to the board, giving everyone a jolt of motivation. Mike kept working his magic with the woolly bugger—his signature fly that’s become something of a legend around here. Champion of the “Woolly Bugger Challenge” in past seasons, all that’s left for him now is to land a permit with it. He’s already caught everything else.
Wednesday was what some would call a “happy practice day”: bonefish galore, plenty of smiles across the skiffs, and the occasional permit sighting that never quite materialized. The wind picked up to 15–18 mph, and morning clouds made it tricky to track movement on the flats. Still, it was a light-hearted day, like a blank page where mistakes didn’t matter.
Thursday delivered variety. Barracudas with attitude, big jacks playing escape artists, and tarpon offering the kind of fights that leave hands shaking. Chris added another permit to his week—persistence paying off again. Weather mirrored the day before: steady wind, annoying clouds, but nothing that could cancel a good day on the water.
Friday followed suit: tarpon, snook, bonefish, and shots at permit that didn’t want to commit. Mike kept the woolly bugger dream alive with more snook action, but the elusive permit still hasn’t surrendered to that oddball fly. Maybe it knows that giving in would be historic—and fish don’t hand out milestones lightly.
Then came Saturday. One of those days when everything aligns and you don’t need to embellish anything. David, who started the week taking his first steps in saltwater, landed his first permit—and then some. All of them on foot. As if to say that the learning curve wasn’t just steep, it was fast. Scott achieved a textbook Grand Slam, adding a few more permits to his record. John, Chris, and Mike all finished strong. Snook in good numbers, bonefish all around, and Mike wrapped things up with a permit, snook, and bones—though the tarpon stubbornly eluded him. Sometimes, the bay keeps one piece just out of reach to make sure you come back.
Weather:
Throughout the week, we experienced a relatively stable pattern: predominantly easterly winds with occasional peaks up to 18 mph, particularly from midweek onward. Cloud cover came and went, often choosing the least convenient times to appear—but overall visibility remained decent. Tides were well-defined and predictable, giving anglers and guides a solid foundation for planning their days and targeting specific zones.
Flies:
Permit stuck to their usual high standards, falling for tried-and-true patterns like the Flexo Crab, Casa Blanca Crab, and ESB Spawning Shrimp in shades of olive, tan, white, and light gray. Presentation remained critical, with the first cast often being the only one that mattered.
Bonefish – gracious as ever—responded well to Gotchas, Crazy Charlies, and Squimps, particularly in shallow, clear waters.
Snook and tarpon showed a preference for larger, more animated flies. Deceivers, Black & Purple, and EP Baitfish all did well. And among them, one unlikely contender kept shining: the woolly bugger. Maybe it wasn’t born for the Caribbean, but no one told the fish.
Barracuda, as expected, attacked flashy, fast-moving streamers with classic no-nonsense aggression. Just make sure your hooks are strong—and your fingers out of the way.
Another week slipping through our fingers like saltwater. A week measured not just in catches, but in lessons learned, laughs shared, quiet rituals, and deep connection. Because this isn’t just fishing. It’s a way of being.
Thank you, as always, to our guides, the kitchen crew who feed both body and soul, and the lodge staff who make each day start and end with a smile. And to our anglers, who arrive with rods in hand and hearts wide open.
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
