Below is a narrative of my recent trip to Vieques, Puerto Rico. I wrote at the end of each day while everything was fresh in my head.

I’ve uploaded additional photos from this trip to flickr.

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Vieques Day 1 (4 November 2007)

I’ve been in Puerto Rico for three days now, having flown in last Thursday for work. After a long day yesterday, we were able to finish the task that drew me here giving our team a free day to act like tourists.

This morning was spent driving around old San Juan looking for a parking space. For some reason, automobile congestion wasn’t a priority of urban planning during the 16 & 17 hundreds when most of the construction took place on the forts and colonial settlement. After parking the car, we walked to El Morro which is the fort guarding the entrance to San Juan Harbor. It’s an impressive piece of construction. If you haven’t seen it, think about the English fortress protecting the harbor in Pirates of the Caribbean. It had a similar look and feel.

View from El Morro

The coworkers I was with were kind enough to drive me to Fajardo so I could catch the ferry to Vieques. It was an interesting drive, because we got to see Puerto Rico outside of San Juan which is not something that business travelers frequently get to do. I was surprised at how hilly the island is, some easily called mountains within the Caribbean setting.

Fajardo was singularly unimpressive. During the drive it came across as run down, dirty, and poor. There were signs of a fair amount of construction on the outskirts of town, but for the most part it did not seem like a place I would want to visit.

The ferry terminal was interesting. I could best describe it as a bus terminal. It had the same feeling of a large group of people who were only together because they had a common destination and were force to take public transportation. The ferry ticket only cost $2, so I couldn’t complain too much. The boat ride itself was uneventful. The boat consistently rocked side to side the entire trip, making me happy that earlier I had purchased a package of Dramamine.

Once we arrived at the Isabel II ferry terminal on Vieques, I just stood around for a few minutes observing everything around me. There was a large crowd of people waiting to take the ferry back to the main island mixed with my fellow passengers from the inbound ferry. One thing that struck me was how many people seemed to know each other. People to my right and left were constantly saying hi to obvious acquaintances. Vieques is small, maybe 9000 people from what I’ve been told.

Isabel II Ferry Landing

I found a taxi driver after a few minutes, who agreed to take me to guest house I was staying in. The taxi was an old extended van (think church van) that had definitely seen better days. After sitting down in the passenger’s seat, I looked for the seat belt only to find a 5’ stub of the belt. The driver seemed to be in his 60’s, likely having lived his entire life in Puerto Rico if not on Vieques proper. As we were driving across the island, he seemed to know everyone. He waved at more people while driving, than I have in the last 10 years.

He safely deposited me at my requested destination, the guest house Coco Loco in Esperanza. After unloading my bags, I asked my driver “how much?” to which he replied “3 dollars”. I gave him a five and indicated he should keep the change. He looked sincerely grateful while thanking me for the tip. I wish $2 could buy that kind of gratitude back home.

Joe, one of the owners of the Coco Loco, came to greet me as soon as the taxi stopped. He showed me to my room, the efficiency downstairs (they have 2 other rooms, each with kitchens from what I gathered). Joe introduced me to his wife, Margo, who runs the guest house with him. They seemed very nice, having moved here from upstate New York four years ago. Joe gave me the rundown on Esperanza (didn’t take long), including a recommendation for dinner. The room is small and clean with no telephone or television. Joe had described it as “efficiency”, definitely a good choice of terms.

Joe Duncan, escapee from Upstate New York and co-owner of Coco Loco

Not surprisingly, Esperanza is small. After a 10 minute walk I was at my restaurant of choice for the evening, Tradewinds. Gary Lowe (my fishing guide for the next few days) called during dinner. We made arrangements for him to pick me up the next day at 6:30, with the plan to spend a few hours in the morning chasing bonefish and permit on flats that we can walk to. The next day will be spent kayak fishing.

So with thoughts of bonefish on my mind, I’m back at the guest house readying myself for the morning. Time to put the laptop down and make sure that my gear is in order.

Vieques Day 2(5 November 2007)

It’s now evening on day 2. In the last half hour I took a shower and walked a block and half to the grocery store for some beer. I’m refreshed, clean, and looking forward to another quiet evening before picking up the fishing rod again tomorrow. Here’s how today unfolded…

The day started with a 5 am concert by a neighborhood rooster. If you’ve never been woken by a rooster before, it’s not exactly the idyllic, green-acres, back to nature way to start your day you might think it is. Being a fisherman I don’t mind the early rise, but that damn rooster was annoying.

Gary picked me up at 6:30 and off we went. He drives an old Chevrolet Durango, a few years ago it might have been described as beat up. It’s significantly beyond that descriptive term now. I knew Gary and I would get along when he called his truck “Little Blue” since I refer to my truck back home as “Big Red”.

Gary Lowe in front of his truck “Little Blue”

Gary has been on the island for a little over a year now. He left employment in Colorado in a fly shop and as a fishing guide to chase his dream in the Caribbean. The island has rubbed off on him in the last year, his casual and easy going nature is very easy to be around. During our drive we talk about our common love of fly fishing; he describes the last year he’s spent learning the local waters. It sounds like a grand adventure compared to the last year of my life spent in a cubicle farm.

Gary takes me back to the other side of the island, near the main town if Isabella II. Our first destination is a little sandwich shop where we pick up coffee and breakfast sandwiches. It was a great way to start the day, there’s something just right about eggs, ham, and cheese squeezed together between two slices of bread.

Our next stop is on the northern coast of the island, just down the road from the Humane Society in Isabella II. Gary explains that shortly after arriving, he would volunteer at the Humane Society and walk down to the beach. During these walks he found an expanse of beach that was very “flat” like and caught his first bonefish there. As soon as we parked, we started rigging our equipment. I could hear the surf, and catch glimpses of it through the bushes along the path that led to the beach. After putting my rod together, I put it down to select a fly. That’s when Gary noticed that the rod was broken about an inch below one of the ferrules making the rod unusable. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was not a good sign to start the day. The fishing gods weren’t happy.

The first beach we fished

There was no point in getting upset at the broken rod, since nothing could be done about it until I returned home. We decided to use Gary’s outfit and headed down the trail to the beach. The beach opened up to a gorgeous expanse of water where the Atlantic and Caribbean meet. The smaller island of Culebra was visible nearly 5 miles off shore. Unfortunately the tide and surf were both up during our visit. We stayed for little more than an hour, but saw nothing to cast at so we were off to the next location.

The island of Vieques is dominated by land that is currently a wildlife refuge but formerly a naval weapons range. Because of this, there are vast expanses of this small island that are uninhabited jungle. Our next stop is west of Isabel within the jungle at Laguna Kiani. The laguna is mostly brackish water and houses a good population of snook and young tarpon. While crossing a bridge we come across a couple of local fisherman that Gary knows, naturally we ask how they’re doing (fishing wise). They haven’t had much luck, but only recently arrived so they’re optimistic.

After parking the car, we traverse the mangrove swamp on a rickety wooden walkway. It leads us to two small docks that stick out into the laguna. At this point I’m salivating at the thought of catching a snook, which would be a new species for me. On the third cast I get the hook embedded in a mangrove tree, the only solution is to break the line. That was going to be indicative of the side trip. After another 45 minutes of no fish, and little visible activity we decide to head on to the most western portion of the island, Green Beach.

Gary leading the way on the walkway

The mangrove shoreline at Laguna Kiani

Green Beach is only ten minutes down the jungle road, so it’s not long before we get back to the water. After parking Little Blue, we walk through the jungle approximately twenty feet to the beach. It’s absolutely breath taking. The beach itself is deserted except for us. The jungle butts up against the beach in a manner that is foreign to my experiences on mainland American beaches that are usually built to the hilt. Jungle, Beach, Water. That’s it as far as I can see. Across the expanse of Caribbean in front me lies the eastern coast of Puerto Rico.

We start walking down the beach towards a little point that lies at the mouth of a creek that empties out of the mangrove swamps. Gary explains that minnows will come out of the creek, and we all know that where you find little fish usually larger fish aren’t too much further away. As we walk I marvel at the turquoise water around us. It’s absolutely tropical. I start to wonder if I’ll get to catch one of the big three here: tarpon, bonefish, permit.

Green Beach

Fishing at Green Beach

Eastern coast of Puerto Rico as seen from Green Beach

When we get to the point, the creek has been blocked by sand washed up by the recent tropical storms. This doesn’t bode well for our theory of big fish following little fish. After fishing for more than hour, the most action I had was a youthful barracuda toying with my lure. I’m still batting o-fer on the trip.

Nearing the middle of the day, Gary needs to get back in town to say good bye to a friend that’s leaving the island at the end of his contract. Since time is running short before the ferry leaves, I tell Gary that I don’t mind just hanging around the dock in Isabel II to save time instead of driving me back to the guest house in Esperanza.

After parking the truck, I immediately grabbed my rod and start heading towards the water. Gary spots a pair of mid sized tarpon and yells for me to run to his location on the dock. I cast at the fish, but the bubble gum pink swim bait seemed to scare them off. Gary leaves me to prospect around the dock while he sees his friend off. My luck holds and nothing is caught. At least the day is consistent.

We head back to Esperanza with the plan of Gary returning in 3 hours to pick me up for a kayak excursion; he’s got to run some errands and load up the yaks. It gives me time to eat some lunch and head over to an internet café to check email. If you find yourself in Esperanza, the Cuban sandwich at Bananas is highly recommended.

As I walked up to the Coco Loco, about 20 minutes before Gary’s expected arrival, the neighbor said hello. She went on to tell me that Gary called and left a message for me saying that he was nearly out of gas and each of the islands gas stations(3) were completely dry. Our afternoon excursion was canceled. I called Gary to make arrangements for tomorrow. He expected the tanker to refill the stations to be on the 6 am ferry, so we planned on a 7:30 departure from the Coco Loco.

I entertained the idea of renting one of the kayaks available in Esperanza to explore the local waters, but decided against it. I was still full from lunch, needed a shower, and a little tired. A little quiet time sounded nice.

Was it a great day fishing? Absolutely not, but per the old axiom “That’s why it’s called fishing and not catching”.

Did I have a great day? Yes, there wasn’t a cubicle in sight.

Tomorrow we’re heading to flats that were described by the New York Times as fishing in the Florida Keys 30 years ago. Hopefully we’ve paid our penance today, and appeased the fishing gods enough to give us a good day on the water tomorrow.

Vieques Day 3
6 November 2007

5:15 AM….. Damn Roosters are at it again. If I throw a rock at them will they shut up? Probably not….
Today started a little late by fishing standards. Gary wasn’t scheduled to pick me up until 7:30, so after getting dressed I walked down to the local bakery and ordered another Ham, Egg and Cheese sandwich. I forgot how much I love the smell of fresh baked bread. Why don’t I do this more often back home?
The gas tankers were late today, but Gary was resourceful enough to score some gas from a friend. By 8:15 we were on our way to the flats. To get to the kayak launch point we entered the Wildlife Refuge (aka former naval bombing range) and headed as far east as we could go. The “road” reminded me of something from an Indiana Jones movie, the road felt like it was carved from the jungle and it wouldn’t take much for the brush to reclaim the space it loaned us.

Was that Indiana Jones we just passed?
When we arrived at our destination, the mosquitoes attacked in force. I didn’t mind too much though after peeking at the open water in front of the launch point. The waters were pristine, without another soul in sight. Gary gave me a quick overview of Ensenada Honda and pointed me in the direction we were headed. We paddled about 30 minutes to the flats near the opening of the bay. There was a lone stand of mangrove in at the edge of the flats that we tied our kayaks to. We rigged Gary’s 8 wt fly rod with a pattern that was a little shrimpy and a little crabby.

Our kayaks tied up to the lone magroves.
This was it. I was finally on a tropical flat about to chase bonefish. It doesn’t get much better than this for a fly fisherman. Hell this is what they write about in magazines… crystal clear waters, no other boats in sight, just me, the guide, and the fish.

Me on the flats
Where were the fish? Didn’t they get the memo about what time I was supposed to be on the flats?The bonefish were nowhere to be seen. Maybe we didn’t pay the required penance yesterday after all.
After about 45 minutes on the flats, Gary suggested we move a little with the intent of fishing a hole next to the shoreline followed with a drift across the flat in the kayaks. Sounded good to me. We got to the hole, and the action started to pick up. A few casts into the hole drew the attention of something. I couldn’t tell what it was, but almost every cast had something short striking the lure. At this point I switched to the fly rod and promptly caught a small Blue Runner. If nothing else, I proved on this trip that I can catch small fish wherever I go. At least I knew I would go back to the guest house with the smell of fish on my hands. (Small consolation)

After catching the Blue Runner, a good sized barracuda noticed the action and moved into our end of the hole. He just hung out waiting to see what the commotion was all about. For some reason the Blue Runners didn’t want to play any more. I changed out the shrimp pattern on the fly rod for a seaducer, and cast to the ‘cuda. He was utterly unimpressed by the collection of hackle, thread, and hook. Time to turn it up a notch. I switched to the spinning rod that Gary had just rigged with a Berkely Gulp Pogy. I cast the lure about 4’ past the fish and started to retrieve. There was a quick flash in the water and I could tell I fishing on credit; the barracuda had cut the line above the lure. We spent another 20 minutes casting at the fish to no avail.

I picked up the fly rod again, readying myself for the drift across the flat. When I got to the corner made by the mangrove shoreline and the rocks breaking the waves I saw a silvery shadow in the water and decided to cast to it. I landed the fly about 5” from the front of the fish. It didn’t splash hard but drew immediate attention from the shadow. Gary was watching the whole scene from a few feet away. I could hear him muttering “Wait for it”. Suddenly the fish moved and my line went tight. I started to strip set the hook and the line went slack. The fish had broken off. Let me rephrase that… the bonefish had broken off. We rigged the fly rod again, and started searching for more bonefish to no avail. That was it.

We were at the breakwater shoreline, on the other side was the Atlantic. I suggested to Gary that we go over to the rocks and run a gulp through the surf for the heck of it. A few rock hopping minutes later we were at the water’s edge. I cast into the churn a few times, on my 5th cast I hooked into a fish. It was up amongst the rocks, so I started to horse it in fearing a line cutting run underneath a rocky ledge. My horsing was too much and the fish spit the hook. A few casts later I fouled the lure on a rock ledge. Gary’s first reaction was to go free the hook, learned from days guiding for trout in Colorado. Once he freed the hook I told him to cast it a few times, not surprisingly he caught a fish. We decided it was about time to head back to the kayaks and the drift we had planned.

Fishing the rocks
The drift proved uneventful. We saw no signs of bonefish, even while Gary was standing in his kayak. Originally we planned on hitting a small reef en route to another mangrove shoreline before heading home. I had seen a lot of activity in some very fishy looking water throughout the day, so we decided to take a little detour before heading to the reef. 20 minutes later and no fish we decided it was time to head to the reef. The swarming mosquitoes probably biased our decision to leave at that point. We changed our plans yet again, deciding to forgo the mangrove shoreline (damn mosquitoes) and head back to the launch point after visiting the rocks.
It’s funny how quick the fishing goes once you decide to leave. On the way to the rocks I was trolling a Berkley Gulp Pogy behind my kayak when my rod started bouncing around in the rod holder. I picked up the rod and promptly landed a small barracuda. We spent about 5 minutes drifting by the rocks, casting the whole time. I had one strike, but never saw the fish.

Small Barracuda
Once we got back to the launch, we loaded the kayaks onto Little Blue in record time to avoid the attacking mosquitoes. The rest of the day was free, providing me with time to get ready to leave the next day.

Vieques Day 4
7 November 2007

4:50 AM….. #!@$%! Roosters!! I’ve never wished I had a shotgun more than when I woke up this morning!
The trip home proved uneventful, which is the preferred descriptive for air travel these days. I had decided to fly from Vieques directly to San Juan International. It was only slightly more expensive than a car service or one way rental. The San Juan to Dallas leg was long but quiet, allowing me to read a lot.

Ultimately I wasn’t able to catch the fish I wanted to on the trip, but it wasn’t for lack of effort. All serious anglers know that there are times when you couldn’t buy a bite. It was still a great trip though. In many ways Vieques is a throwback to another era. In the big picture, sport fishing is still a curiosity on the island; there isn’t a tackle shop or live bait infrastructure. I’m sure these will follow as more people discover the quiet charms of this gorgeous island. I’m looking forward to my next visit, and already starting to plan it .

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Dean and I will be discussing the Vieques trip in detail in our next show, #13.

I’ve uploaded additional photos from this trip to flickr.