I fished with Tim and Ryan today while Gerhard ventured with two of the other guests.  Ryan got a yellow permit yesterday and our plan was to hit the same flat where he got that one however not till sunset.  He saw a ton of permit there.  To start our day, we waded the flat near the lodge by a sunken ship that I remember from last year.

 

In my mind there was no chance I’d cast to bonefish today.  It would need to be a true monster.  Funny thing however, I was walking with Tim and five minutes into the morning he spotted a bonefish.  He had his rod and I waited for him to catch it.  Instead he looked at me and said, “Currier this may be THE bonefish”.

 

All the bones here at St. Brandon’s Atoll look big but this one was wide across the back and where the body connected to the tail was as thick around as a man’s wrist.  These enormous bones gleam a blue-greenish color that’s indescribable for those who have never seen it.  I cast my crab and in a single pounce the bonefish was on.

 

With some fish species the biggest of the big fight less hard likely due to the fact they’re old.  Not with bonefish.  This bone took off so fast and deep into my backing it scared me.

 

When the king-sized bonefish stopped far across the flat I cranked the drag of my Bauer a couple notches and reeled back as fast as I could.  What happens with all bones is they run as far as they can then rest.  If you reel like heck while they’re resting you sort of trick them into coming back to you.  I gained the fly line back on the reel then the huge bonefish took off again.  This time so far in the backing I had to charge after him.

 

Meanwhile, Tim was at the boat hurriedly retrieving the net and his Boga Grip.  Tim knew before I even cast that this was a true tank.  Ryan was making his way to the action as well.  Two more runs and the mighty bone was defeated.  He weighed slightly over 10lbs.  I always dreamt of breaking the 10lb mark on a bonefish but never thought it would actually happen.  Wow.  Like I so often say on this blog, “keep your fly in the water!”

 

It’s pretty easy to kick back after a fish of a lifetime.  But being that I’m more than 8,000 miles from home where many other great fish are around, especially Mr. Yellow Permit, my relaxation period was no more than a minute.  Tim, Ryan and I split up and I was back on the hunt.  Soon I was alone on one of the most remote flats on the planet.  Lucky for me a hungry tailing permit was headed straight in my direction.

 

Another thing I know about fishing beyond “keep your fly in the water” is that when its your day its your day.  I knew this permit would eat my fly.  When he got close I dropped my crab a foot from him and he destroyed it like it was his last!

 

This Indo-pacific permit was barely a 6lber but damn I wanted him.  I strip set and he took off like my giant bone did only 20 minutes earlier.  Regrettably, he was headed straight for a small stretch of jagged edged coral heads.

 

When he got close to the coral I banged my knuckles to physically stop my reel from releasing any more line which put a bend in my Winston 9-weight that could’ve absorbed the shock of a big fleeing tarpon.  With a bent 9-weight 16lb fluorocarbon is like cable and the fish stopped, struggled and nearly jumped then changed direction.  I survived.  Now I had him. . . . I thought.

 

During the next ten seconds this little yellow devil ran away, towards me, slacked me and then straight back to the coral and this time he made it.  I was tricked!  And no leader on earth can handle sharp coral reef and the rascal beat me severing my leader way up near the butt.  Are you freaking kidding me!?

 

I don’t remember it but I must have shouted some bad words.  Very unlike me but Tim and Ryan confirmed it.  And they were far away when the mishap went down.

 

Lunch and a beer on the boat always sorts things out for me.  It’s my way to re-group.  Ryan grabbed my rig while I was sipping my Phoenix and pieced me together a new leader.  Then we drove to the flat where he got his permit yesterday.

 

It’s called Paul’s Island.  There were birds everywhere and I quickly realized I’d never been here before.  Tim cut the engines well before we got too close and Ryan hopped in the water and quietly waded pulling the boat as he went.  Four yellow permit tails glimmered in the afternoon light.

 

I was still feeling lucky.  I needed a good cast.  While Tim walked the opposite direction of the tailing permit to find some of his own Ryan walked with me and together we stalked these promising feeders.

 

I’ve learned a ton from fishing with Gerhard and Tim but this was the first time on the salt with Ryan.  I knew he nailed a fish here yesterday so I told him outright to tell me what to do.  First thing, he had me move much closer to these permit than I would’ve.  Being close paid dividends because at 40ft I was able to lay a perfect cast.

 

My crab dove a foot in front of the four permit and Ryan instructed me to get tight and strip extremely slow.  I felt a funny thump and a permit was on.  He bolted off the flat only to come unbuttoned five seconds later.  I thought I was going to throw up!

 

Honestly, I think Ryan wanted to puke also.  Furthermore, Tim radioed us ten minutes later to see if I got one and when Ryan told him what happened it was dead silence on the other end.  Perhaps Tim got sick after he signed off.

 

I felt pretty bleak as we waited hoping more tailers would show up.  Naturally Ryan had numerous chances yesterday but not today.  We had only one chance and I blew it.  We walked around to the ocean side of the island.

 

We saw some of the best birdlife you can imagine.  Thousands of White Fairy Terns and another ternish bird I don’t know.  They divebombed us to protect their eggs.  They lay their eggs here there and everywhere.  On the ground.  In trees.  It’s sort of ridiculous and you must take care where you step.  We saw some permit also but I couldn’t convince one to eat my fly.

 

Eventually we rounded the island and met Tim head on.  He’d seen some permit but no luck either.  He decided to head back to where he saw a big one so Ryan and I decided to go check on the first four we saw.  Perhaps while we were gone they returned.

 

Before we got there Tim radioed to Ryan, “Big permit!  Big permit on boys!”.

 

It didn’t take Tim long after we saw him and he radioed definitely hoping Ryan would come to take pictures.  The FlyCastaway team is here to get photos and no permit opportunity should be wasted.  I told Ryan to go.  It was time for me to do the permit thing solo and get my groove on.

 

Ryan waded for the boat and took off for Tim.  I eased down the flat where we saw the four permit earlier.  In the distance I could see Tim fighting his fish.  Soon I heard him shout with joy.  He’s landed a ton of yellow permit so I knew this was a fantastic fish.  Ryan arrived and next I could see the camera capturing the moment.  Indeed it was a big fish.

 

It seemed I was heading down the same “permitless” path of last year when suddenly three permit tails appeared.  Who knows how the brain works but I slipped into such concentration it was like a trance.  I waited till they were close then side armed a perfect cast to them.  The side arm was to soften my crabs landing in order not to spook them.

 

I couldn’t see if there was reaction to my fly but the tails went down then I felt that funny thump again but didn’t go tight.  Did I miss him?  I kept stripping.  I was in full squat in the water incase they followed to my rod tip.  I didn’t want them to see me.  I had an idea where my fly was and in that spot a tail protruded the water.  I went tight and set.  PERMIT ON!

 

The fish ate less then ten feet from my rod tip meaning I had a heap of line to clear.  This is a terrifying thing when hooked to the fish where everything goes wrong most of the time.  My left hand guided the bouncing Amplitude Grand Slam line and soon it cleared and now line peeled from the reel.  I had him good.  There was no coral that I could see – just open sandy flat.  YELLOW PERMIT STILL ON!

 

No doubt there was no room for error.  This being said, I couldn’t help but glance in the distance to see if Ryan and Tim were done with their photo shoot.  It appeared they were and it looked as if they were getting ready to have a smoke.  That’s when I yelled so loud it could be heard throughout the Indian Ocean, “Permit on!”.

 

I was ten minutes into battle when the guys arrived.  I could tell two things: First – this yellow permit stink on me has been so bad they couldn’t believe my hook up was real.  Second – once they believed, they were nervous I’d lose him.  This permit curse has affected everyone!

 

Once I had my fly line back on the reel I felt in control.  Ryan told me not to rush it and he’s right.  The final landing process particularly with the rubbery mouths of permit often end in catastrophe.  It was a few years ago I lost the formidable Africanus in Oman after the hardest battle I’ve ever had with a fly rod.  But not this time.  Tim eased in with the net.

 

The third time I brought the permit close Tim scooped him.  I didn’t scream with joy or do a backflip or anything too crazy.  Perhaps I was in disbelief.  Perhaps this entire quest has simply exhausted my mind.  But it hit me in a dramatic special way when I clenched the tail and slid the golden fish from the net.  Unreal!

 

While Tim and Ryan clicked off these fantastic photos I admired every inch of my long awaited yellow permit.  Only a handful of fish have worked me like this one (Atlantic salmon, big roosterfish and golden mahseer come quickly to mind).  In many circumstances when the catch and glory with these fish is over I hardly remember any of it.  Today would not be the case.  I cherished every second and stared into this permits eyes.

 

The permit weighed just under 11lbs.  Any yellow permit on the fly is an admirable catch but one over 10lbs is a trophy.  I released the elusive creature back to the wild and we wandered to the boat and had a beer.

 

That was the end of the day.  The drive home was a fun one.  I finally got my permit.  Tim landed one even bigger.  And let’s not forget about the bonefish.  Today is perhaps one of my top saltwater fly fishing days of my life!

 

If you want to go to St Brandon’s Atoll feel free to contact me or my friends at Yellow Dog Flyfishing Adventures.

Jeff Currier Global Fly Fishing