LONG ISLAND, THAT IS, IN THE SOUTHERN BAHAMAS

BY JOHN BROWNLEE

“You see the tails, don’t you?” the guide asked from the poling tower. “They’re at 10 o’clock, 60 feet.” I strained my eyes looking for them but all I saw were mangrove stalks and leaves. “Point your rod,” he said patiently. I pointed my fly rod in a generally 10 o’clock direction, and then I saw them—three silver tails barely breaking the surface amongst the mangrove clusters.

“Got ‘em,” I said. “This will be tough, though, with all of the mangrove shoots.” “I know,” he replied, “just wait until they push into that little clearing and we’ll have a better shot at getting one of them out of there.” After several long seconds, the bonefish moved right into the small clearing he referred to and I dropped the fly in front of the lead fish.

“Wait, wait, now strip it slow!” came the instructions from the tower. The second fish, not the one in the lead, saw the fly as I began to strip and raced over to eat it. I set the hook by lifting my rod and watched as the fish took off in a large boil, blowing out the other fish in the process. Line raced from the fly reel and for a second, I thought I had him as he appeared headed for open water, away from the mangroves.

But the bonefish made an abrupt about-face as he reached open water at the edge of the mangroves, perhaps sensing the presence of the boat, and retreated back into the maze of roots.

In another second, he turned around a large cluster of gnarly roots, broke the tippet, and headed out of sight at high speed. “Well, we had a 50/50 chance of getting him out of there at best,” I said, as the entire crew nodded in agreement. Captain James “Docky” Smith guided my wife, Poppy, and me that day, as he has on many past occasions. Smith guides out of the Stella Maris Resort on Long Island, in the south-central Bahamas, and we’ve enjoyed many great days on the water with him in this beautiful area. Smith grew up on Long Island, and as a native to the area, has an intimate knowledge of the flats. He has guided for 15 years, and he and his wife, Jill, also own a fly-fishing shop and boutique, located on the main highway just north of Stella Maris. Long Island offers some of the best bonefishing in the Bahamas chain, but has remained a well-kept secret until recently. When you think of Bahamas bonefishing, you’re much more likely to envision the flats of Andros, the Abaco marls, the Berry Islands, or the southern Exumas. But Long Island holds its own with any of those spots, due to some intriguing geographical attributes.

BOOKING DOCKY Docky Smith runs a first-class bonefish operation, with two quality bonefish skiffs, a 17-foot Maverick Mirage HPX-V, and a 16-foot Hewes Bonefisher. Docky is a real pleasure to fish with—he’s patient, extremely knowledgeable, and a true gentleman to boot. He’s a fun guy with whom to spend a day on the water, and he has guided a growing number of my friends to their very first bonefish on a fly rod. He teaches fly-casting if you’re a novice, and can provide expert advice on everything from fly selection to spinning gear. Ed Blank's Adventures   on  the Fly PO Box 180446  Boston MA 02118 Phone: 888-857-6700  Email: ed@flyfishingheaven.com http://www.flyfishingheaven.com

LOTS OF TERRITORY

The northern end of Long Island, where Stella Maris sits, has large areas of shallow-water flats off its western shore, with high cliffs and ridges running along this part of the island too, providing beautiful scenery that’s much different from most other Bahamian islands. Fingers of land jut westward toward the deep blue waters of Exuma Sound, partitioning the flats into several different and distinct bodies of water, including large bays and tidal creeks, all with differing types of habitat where bonefish feed at one time or another.

The largest bay north of Stella Maris, Glenton Sound, has many acres of flats around its perimeter, with dozens of small bays and side channels along its shoreline, any one of which can hold bonefish. But the western shoreline of Long Island itself, extending many miles to the south of Stella Maris, also has vast areas of shallow water that bonefish like. So many choices exist when contemplating where to fish.

“I think we have so many bonefish because of the protection they find here,” Smith said. “No matter where bad weather comes from, the fish can find a safe place to stay in one of the creeks and deep channels.” When you fly into Stella Maris and look at this area from the air, you realize just how much real estate the bonefish have to choose from, and the pressure on them remains very light.

“You can fish all day and never see another boat bonefishing on many days,” Smith said. If you like solitude on the flats, this could be the place for you. Other people enjoy the hard sand flats, which make perfect wading territory. My wife and I like all of those things as well, but we like the numbers of fish most of all.

LARGE SCHOOLS

After I lost my bonefish to the mangroves, we moved to another spot. High tide had just passed and we were fishing right after the new moon, so tides ran higher than normal. “There’s just too much water right now,” Smith said, “but after the tide begins to drop, they’ll come out onto the sand flats.” We hooked and lost several more fish that we found milling around in the mangroves, but didn’t land any. Around 2 p.m., Smith decided to make a move. We ran south to a large bay, which consisted of one giant sand flat. By this time, the water had dropped substantially since I lost that first fish in the morning. Smith pointed out telltale signs of feeding behavior in the bottom as he poled his skiff along, obviously a good sign—then he spotted a school ahead.

“200 fish in that school,” he said matter-of-factly. When I zeroed in on it, I would have called it 500 fish, but that overestimate may have been due to overzealous enthusiasm— just call it a very large school of bonefish. We decided to wade so we could get closer, and as we approached the school, we could see bonefish of all sizes mixed together, from 2 pounds to 8 pounds, feeding on the bottom and creating a faint mud trail in the current behind them.

The larger fish would “float” to the surface occasionally, bobbing up out of the feeding crowd and showing us their backs. “Try to cast to one of the larger fish,” Smith said. I would wait for a larger individual to pop up and then drop the fly in front of him. Sometimes I hooked one, but more often, a little bone would streak over and pounce on the fly before the big one could reach it.

I never did land a really big one, but I caught and released six fish from 2 to 5 pounds in short order, before the school tired of us and swam off. No problem, Smith reminded me, we’ll just go find another one, and that’s what we did. We fished five separate, large schools of fish that afternoon, catching and releasing bonefish out of every one, until it was time to go home. I never got a truly large fish, but counted it as a spectacular day of bonefishing nonetheless.We saw well over 1,000 bonefish that afternoon, in just three hours.

SEASONAL DIFFERENCES

Our trip occurred during the middle of August, obviously in the heat of summer, and the behavior we observed is typical for bonefish that time of year, according to Smith.“We see lots of schooling fish in the summer,” he said, “but I also catch lots of big ones in summertime. You just have to catch a bunch of smaller fish in between the big ones in the summer.” Nothing wrong with that!

But Smith also points out that the fish’s behavior changes when the weather cools off. “In the fall and winter, the fish spread out and we see lots more big fish coming by in small schools of two or four,” he said. Smith’s largest bonefish to date weighed 13 pounds, and he has guided clients to many double-digit bones over the years.We saw a few of those ourselves, on our second day of fishing.

The next day, we cast some bait on spinning rods, trying to land a 10-pounder. We ran across yet another school of 200 plus fish, this time in one of the beautiful tidal creeks that crisscross the island just south of Cape Santa Maria, at the northern tip of Long Island. We managed some larger fish, to probably 6 pounds, but the 10-pounder eluded us yet again. Still, we had a blast catching and releasing quite a few smaller bones, always a thrill.

BONUS SPECIES

Of course, other fish inhabit the flats of Long Island—these include a few tarpon, a respectable number of mutton snapper, and large schools of permit. “It’s not uncommon to see schools of 400 permit in the winter months,” Smith said, “but we have to run a good distance to get to them, so it’s not always possible if it’s windy.”

All of these opportunities make me eager to return. The lack of crowds, the beautiful scenery, the friendly people, and the numbers of fish you typically encounter make the flats of Stella Maris and Long Island in general a winning combination in my book. Poppy and I are already planning our next trip!