Fishing In Antigua

3 weeks in Antigua with my lovely wife, fantastic.  Three weeks in Antigua with my lovely wife and my Greys 11 foot travel spin, unbelievably fantastic.  Immediately on arrival at the Coco Bay resort I was filled with excitement from the sheer beauty of the coast and the fishing prospects.  I had read lots about fishing in the Caribbean and was full of anticipation at the thought of catching barracuda or even bonefish.  As I looked from the balcony of our shack across the bay I spotted the black shape of a good size fish motor like a torpedo between two reefs; the really exciting thing was it was in casting distance. 
That night I woke numerous times imagining the battles I was going to encounter and lay listening to the sea wash against the headland.  The sea was only a few yards away and the waves sounded like passing vehicles as they rolled onto the small cliff that protected us from ocean.  I was astonished at just how noisy it was as the sea looked so inviting when the sun set at 6:18pm.  The next morning it was obvious why it was a noisy night.  A considerable swell had sprung up and the many small reefs which had been visible the night before were gone. I could see the sand being stirred by the motion of the waves; the fishing did not look quite so promising anymore.  But never mind, this was the first day of 20 so the prospects were still good.
My first fishing session was late afternoon under a bright sun but a sea that you lost your hand in.  The swell had build up and the sea was brewed to a density that my hand disappeared as soon I immersed it in the salty brine.  I cast endlessly flinging a popper in every direction and as far as I could manage.   As I began to tire I started to think about my casting technique and realised I was powering the lure rather than letting the rod do the work.  By the end of that session my casting had improved but nothing had shown the slightest bit of interest in my lure.
This pattern continued for a week.  I would either fish at sun rise or late afternoon until it went dark.  The rest of the day I spent with my wife enjoying the all inclusive resort: four meals, swimming pool, private plunge pool overlooking the bay and unlimited cocktails.  I think my failure as a fisherman was compensated by my success in working through the list of cocktails very quickly and my wife being wonderful company and empathising with my being fishless; she encouraged it was not my lack in fishing skills but the conditions.  Of course she was right? The swell continued and the sea remained murky so how could a fish spot my lure?  It was interesting to note that the pelicans were catching but showed zero interest in my lure and the Frigate birds sailed over head and never stooped near my lure either; perhaps I was doing something wrong! 
The swell reduced and the sea began to clear.  While swimming I noted that I could see my hands but my feet remained unseen.  That afternoon I fished with more confidence.  Around 5pm the odd bait fish would start jumping and I assumed something was hunting.  Each time I saw a commotion I sent my lure, now soft bait, flying towards it but still no takers.  I did not give up and continued to cast and retrieve the subsurface lure between weed patches and holes.  The sea bed was really interesting.  I walked on beds of a tough grass like weed  with a depth of a foot to three feet, presumably the weed bound the sand into a solid mass but these were broken up with deeper holes that plunged a further three feet.  I discovered this when the sea was very coloured and not being able to see my way literally stepped off a weed bed up to my chest in water.  Not really a problem as the sea was so warm but it was a bit of a shock the first time and very embarrassing when there were on lookers – I did provide some entertainment.  I loved this particular bay because the undulating sea bed provided some protection to small fish which sometimes followed my lure.  I took this as a good sign and assumed that predators would enter the shallows and dine at this restaurant. 

Exhausted from casting my mind began to wonder.  This was not good as it was important to concentrate as I aimed to let the lure drop deep in the holes but bring it back near the surface over the shallow weed beds.  From the area I was wading I could see our shack and so at the end of one cast and retrieve I looked up to see if my wife was there.  At that point the lure was almost stationary under my rod tip just tipping over the edge of a hole.  Wham, the rod bent over and of went a fish like a train.  Fortunately my reel allowed the fish to strip line under pressure; at the start of each fishing session I test that line can be pulled from the reel.  The fish travelled 10 yards in seconds and to my surprise kept going.  My mind told me from my experience of carp, pike and trout fishing that the fish would slow but instead it kept going.  At 40 yards I began to wonder what was on the other end!  Was this a big barracuda with huge teeth: I was standing in the water and for the first time wondered if a hooked fish might behave like a snapping dog and how I could stop it biting me. 
The fish was now 50 yards away and still going.  At this point I was in a state of excitement and fear, what was this brute?  I had read about such encounters and my mind was playing tricks exaggerating the moment.  To add to this I noticed the fish was heading for a man made breakwater comprising lots of boulders.  Instinctively I applied side strain and managed to turn the fish which now started to swim in a huge arc.  My rod was bent double and I applied finger pressure to the still spinning spool to prevent the brute taking more line.  I began to feel more in control and as the fish continued its arc I began to gain line.  To speed up the line retrieval I started following the fish plunging into the holes in the reef and clambering out the other side.  The idea worked and my speed of line retrieve got faster.  The fish (in my mind no longer a brute although I had no idea what it was) continued in an arc almost to the beach.  Once in the shallows I felt in total control and was confident of catching it.  My fear turned to pure excitement and when the fish turned belly up just under my rod tip I admit to being relieved that it wasn’t a big barracuda but what I thought to be a good size bonefish.  I can’t remember how I achieved it but heart pounding and shouting yes, yes, yes oh yes!  (I am referring to the sound a Homer Simpson bottle opener makes when you remove the top of beer) I picked up the fish and gently rested it down next to my rod to take pictures.  I think I was in too much of a hurry to get the fish back swimming safely that I did not straighten it and get a true picture of its size or weigh it.  I was grateful that I had squashed the barbs on the hooks as they practically fell out.  Photo shoot over I held the fish submerged for a few minutes and with great satisfaction felt it kick and confidently swim away.
That night at the bar I told the cocktail waiter about the fish.  The locals had seen me fishing and all of them gave me conflicting advice but they were all in agreement that the area I had just caught didn’t hold fish.  He asked me whether I had given the fish to the chef because they would prepare it for me but immediately lost interest when I said I had returned it.   A few days later we travelled by Taxi to Shirley Heights to watch the sun set and participate in a barbeque.  It was a good evening and my wife and I had a chat with the Taxi driver about all sorts of stuff – apparently it was Antigua who first received the immortal words “one small step, one giant step for mankind” and passed the transmission on to America.  Anyway he was a keen rock fisherman and used a hand line.  When I told him I was surprised the barman had immediately lost interest when I announced the return of the fish he told me his father had said “the first fish is the gift of god and therefore should always be taken”.  I pondered on this but still think I did the right thing.   
The waters now turned crystal clear and were a joy to swim in.  I took my snorkel and swam in the bay were I had caught my fish and was surprised by the abundance of fish life.  I even spotted modest barracudas in places I had repeatedly cast but had seen no sign of fish.   One day I spotted what I thought was a shadow from a cloud but it turned out to be a large shoal of small fish.  It stuck around and I spent an hour casting to it, through it and around it convinced that there must be marauding predators watching it however the shoal moved on quietly and my lure remained untouched.

The locals advised me to fish a rocky peninsula on which stood our restaurant.  At the tip there was deeper water and they told me I would get loads there but to switch to bait fishing.  I did not want to bait fish so stuck to lures.  I attempted early morning without success and so decided to try late afternoon to early evening.  The clear seas had gone due to a heavy swell which had now dissipated and it was now unseen foot murky the same as when I had got my fish. 

It was evening and the sun was close to sinking into the sea.  I was working a Repala red and white popper really hard and had attracted the interest of two pelicans (I think I improved through the holiday) which circled above the lure looking ready to dive.  They were a nuisance; the last thing I wanted was to hook one.  I cast and out and having retrieved most of the line I noticed one of the pelicans stoop to dive; I accelerated the retrieve and skimmed the lure across the surface at such speed that it left the water and fell against the rocks at my feet.  I reeled in the slack and just as I achieved a tight line the lure was grabbed, my rod buckled over and line tore from my reel.   The fish motored 50 yards when one of the pelicans now resting on the water took flight and tangled itself with my line about 20 yards from me.  I now had an angry pelican and a large fish struggling against me.  I dropped my rod tip low under the surface of the water and fortunately the pelican got free.  Meanwhile the fish which had stopped once again took flight and ran a further 50 yards.   At 100 yards I managed to turn the fish and it moved to my right.  Although I applied as much pressure as I dared I gained no line and it continued to move in a continuous powerful run.  Once again I turned it and it reversed direction this time taking line.  We then came to stalemate; the fish was stationary, not yielding to the force I applied.  Approx 15 minutes had passed since the start of the battle and it was starting to get dark.  To get the fish moving again I tried clambering over the rocks to another vantage point to put pressure on the fish from another angle but it made no difference.  I then made a wrong decision and put as much force on the fish that I could and the hooks pulled free.  I reeled in well over a 100 yards of line.
I can’t really put into words how I felt.  I cast a few more times.  I got excited again when the water around the rocks started to boil with small fish jumping and assumed something below was chasing them.  However I never had another take so I gave up and in the dark clambered back over the rocks to the beach.     Although I had a few more attempts at fishing before we returned to Blighty I never hooked another and totally regretted my actions.
Like most fisherman I now have a story about the one that got away.