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Featured
Article in Florida
Sportsman Magazine
January 1996
Issue
"Catch
a snook, tarpon and cubera snapper in one day? Head to
Belize."
Jungle
Slam
By The Managing Editor
I could feel us being spied on: Watching from the
riverbank were a variety of monkeys, tapirs,
anteaters, ocelots, sloths, otters, iguanas, wild
hogs and scads of other native creatures. At times
the bushes shook as animals scurried about,
usually hidden by the lush, green foliage. The
ride on the Belize River pushed us deeper into the
interior, shaded at times by thick canopies of red
mangrove trees, spiny bamboo, cashew trees and
coconut palms. An orchestra of chirping parrots,
toucans and macaws created an aerial riot of color
and sound, and a fresh, clean scent of the
tropical jungle filled our lungs. |
Capt.
Van shows how it's done by landing this cubera
snapper in less than 10 mins! |
The tranquility
ended in a blurring explosion as a massive snook
bolted from its ambush site to strike a trolled
lure, and the water-spewing headshake got
everyone's heart pumping double-time.
The Belize River. Exotic, beautiful-and brimming
with aggressive fish.
The week before, Capt. Ed Van Everyone calls him
Capt. Van or simply Van-was on the phone with a
trip update: "The fishing has been super, and
I promise a good shot at getting a Jungle Slam,
which means catching a snook, tarpon and cubera
snapper on the same day."
Although boat slams occur now and then when two or
more anglers in a boat contribute to the tally,
Van said that the same angler catching all three
is extremely rare. Given the knack of tarpon and
cuberas to throw or pull hooks, I could understand
why.
Capt. Van was our good-humored host. Rousted out
of bed by Van the first morning at 4 a.m., Van's
son Rick and I were too groggy to visualize the
excitement that lay ahead. We shoved off in two
22-foot wooden boats at Haulover Creek after being
greeted at the dock by captains Martin Merrit and
Sommers .
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Fish
in the air! A snook goes airborne, while at left,
Rick Van Every holds on after an eruption. |
Haulover
Creek bisects Belize City and was dug by the
British in 1928 to drain the eastern end of the
city, which is below sea level. Belize, formerly
known as British Honduras, is a Central American
country that is short on territory but long in
natural resources. Sandwiched by Mexico to the
north and Guatemala to the west, the Caribbean Sea
borders the entire eastern coastline. Belize is
dotted with Mayan ruins, cascading waterfalls,
deep caves and mountains that support an amazing
variety of animal and plant life and the fishing
is usually sensational.
A series of three atolls lies offshore, and the
brisk Honduran current flows along both sides of
the 185-mile barrier reef-the second largest in
the world. |
The
off-shore fishing for wahoo as well as blue and
white marlin is excellent, and it's also supreme
for snapper and grouper-especially senior-size
black grouper weighing 50 pounds and more.
The flats around Turneffe Islands and the numerous
cays -- all nourished by the sealife-enriched
currents-are great poling grounds for bonefish,
permit and tarpon. The bonefishing can be
stupendous, with schools often containing hundreds
of fish in the 2- to 7-pound range. Years ago I
stood in a small, wooden skiff near a Turneffe
flat with Rick Berry and Robert Knecht of Key
Largo, all of us transfixed at the startling sight
of at least 300 tails twitching and glistening in
the setting sun.
Now we were headed for an entirely different
setting. Just as the dawn's light
began sculpting distinct images out of the fuzzy
gloom, we came upon a huge tree that had fallen
across the river. Sommers and Martin hacked away
with machetes until the boats could slip under the
main trunk, much as explorers probably maneuvered
through this wilderness for centuries. We soon
broke out of the shaded hammock of the creek and
joined the Belize River.
The Belize and Sibun rivers meet the sea north and
south of Belize City, respectively, with the
Belize River bordering the northern end of the
capital city and the Sibun about seven miles
south. They cut westward, deep into the forests
and jungles where the water turns brackish and
then fresh after several miles. As we crossed
under the Haulover Bridge that connects the only
north-south highway in Belize, Van shouted over
the engine noise to tell us the game plan.
"First we'll go after cuberas," he said.
"The water is still cool at daybreak and
offers the best shot at them. We'll be trolling
deep-running plugs a little ways beyond the bridge
and around the first series of bends in the
river."
The prospect was quite bewildering. I had always
fished for cubera snapper at night, with full moon
phases in late summer usually being prime. South
Florida anglers normally target the big ones by
dropping a rigged lobster to the bottom while
anchored or drifting near deep markers or reef
hotspots. Going after cuberas during the day --
with trolled lures -- seemed unconventional, but
intriguing.
Minutes later, two 9 1/2 inch Cisco Kid lures --
one blue with a silver belly and the other fire
tiger -- were dropped back about 150 feet on
20-pound spin and conventional outfits. The lipped
plugs soon dug toward the bottom as we trolled the
middle of the river, not near the edges. |
| Noting
my knotted brow, Van filled me in. "We've
charted the river bottom with our depthfinder over
the years, and found several deep holes in the
middle. The bottom averages about 20 feet in
depth, but these holes are around 70 feet deep and
are 40 or so feet across. The cuberas sit in the
holes facing the current, waiting for something to
sweep by. When one of our plugs starts dancing
over its head, they grab it quickly. Since the
fight is out in the open rather than near the
mangroves, you have a better chance of landing it.
Trouble is, the catch-to-hookup ratio is low with
cuberas, because the big ones are bulls and the
hooks usually pull." |
Trolling
for snook is most productive by keeping the lure
close to the edge of the river. |
Lines
went into the water at 6:15 a.m. Less than 15
minutes later, the first hit arrived with all the
subtlety of a bazooka. One of the rods twanged
like a tuning fork and bent nearly to the point of
breaking. I grabbed it and went to work, pumping
and winding, bobbing and weaving, grunting and
groaning. My prize seemed to have the upper hand
more often than not, but finally the cubera threw
in the towel. Seconds later, Sommers lip-gaffed a
chunky 30-pounder and it was in the boat. Part one
of the slam was in the bag.
"That was the toughest one-getting the cubera,"
beamed Van. "Next we'll try for a tarpon and
leave the snook for last, because they're almost a
sure thing.'
As we headed toward another stretch of the river,
Sommers provided more details about cubera fishing
in the Belize River. The new and full moon phases
are best, he related, and the cooler the water,
the longer the cubera seem to remain in the middle
of the river; as the tropical sun warms the water,
the cubera move to the shade and protection of the
red mangrove trees at the edges of the river. The
best cubera fishing is from October to about
March.
Sommers and Martin shut down in an area where the
current was still brisk and the tide rising.
"1 like a high tide for tarpon," advised
Van, "particularly around the strong tides of
the new and full moons."
While Rick started casting a shadtail lure, Van
suggested I serve up a small, live snapper, fished
under a popping cork near the bottom. We had
anchored near a bend in the river, and Van said to
toss the wriggling snapper into the eddy:
"It's a deep pocket, and sometimes the tarpon
like to float there, twitching their tails just
enough to remain motionless and keep their heads
into the current."
It wasn't long before I felt my snapper getting
antsy. "He's awful scared," I said
excitedly. Just as I was silently paying homage to
the value of local knowledge, my line tightened.
Van saw it too. "Count to five to let him
take it, then set the hook," he yelled.
Who was I to argue? I did as told, driving the
hook home on Van's cue and then feeling the force
of the fleeing tarpon as the rod almost pulled
from my hands. Each time the tarpon made a run for
the mangroves, I pulled from the direction of the
mangroves-not away from them.
It worked. The tarpon, about a 65- to 70-pounder,
stayed in playable range like a good boy, then ran
out the mouth of the river into open water. After
a considerable loss of body moisture as I toiled
in the glaring sun, the silver king soon tilted on
its side and let Sommers carefully raise him by
the edge of a gill with the gaff. We wanted to
release the tarpon without lip-gaffing or injuring
it, and happily, it regained its guns and blasted
away after a short revival period.
It was still only 8:20 a.m., and Van was ready to
celebrate. "We're gonna do it," he
chanted, "we're gonna do it."
Ever the pessimist, and feeling the sudden
pressure of being within sight of the coveted
slam,
I doused the elation when I warned, "Hold the
phone, guys. We haven't caught the snook
yet." |
Capt.
Sommers studies a healthy snook -- one of many
he's helped catch for anglers in his 27 years on
the rivers. |
We
upped anchor and slid through the Burden Canal to
the Sibun River to search for snook. Although
snook can be caught in the Belize River, they're
even thicker in the Sibun, and Van didn't want to
blow our chances at the slam.
I plunked down in the bow seat and enjoyed the
ride, relishing the breeze in my face. At one
point as I ogled a gigantic termite nest that was
bunched in a tree along the waterway, out of the
corner of my eye I saw what appeared to be a
crocodile submerging next to some branches, and I
pointed frantically.
No one else saw it, but Van confirmed that they
are sometimes seen in the river. Nonetheless, I
removed my sunglasses and gave them a thorough
cleaning as Van exclaimed, "See, this is our
lucky day." |
A
huge smile brightened his wind-blown face as
Sommers and Martin idled the skiffs as we entered
the Sibun River. The mouth of the Sibun is much
deeper than the Belize River, I was told, and can
be spectacular during the spring when tarpon are
entering the river to spawn.
I asked about the best conditions for snook
fishing, and Sommers, normally reserved and quiet,
sprang to life like a windup toy-I had obviously
touched
upon his favorite subject. "The last hour or
two of the outgoing tide during the last-quarter
moon is v-e-r-y good, especially if the water is
dirty," he said eagerly.
"Water clarity is definitely critical,' added
Van. "Brown, dirty water is good because the
snook can't see the boat as easily and the fish
has to make an instant strike decision when the
lure suddenly appears."
"And don't forget just after a rain on an
outgoing tide,' said Sommers. "The rain
drains off the jungle and flows into the river and
then out the mouth. Small fish and little brown
shrimp, known locally as river lobster, are in the
mix. The river lobsters are about four inches long
and have pinchers, sort of like a crawdad but with
smaller pinchers-the snook go absolutely nuts over
them.
"I once took out a customer who caught and
released 41 snook between two and four in the
afternoon when the water was draining from the
jungle,' added Sommers, who has been fishing and
guiding for 27 years.
"I remember that," laughed Van.
"The guy actually kept count of the snook he
was releasing and finally cried out 'I've had
enough,' so we brought him in.'
"What a problem," exclaimed Rick,
shaking his head. "Too many snook! Can you
imagine that?'
Even so, my prophecy was starting to become
worrisome. After nearly an hour of trolling the
mangrove edges in the snake-like Sibun River, nary
a snook had been caught. Van and Sommers weren't a
bit discouraged.
"If we keep at it, we'll catch some snook
sooner or later," said Van. "The
resident fish find a home on one side of the river
or the other, despite where the sun or shade might
be during the day." |
It's
easy to see the exotic appeal and natural beauty
that makes jungle fishing so popular. |
We
were now trolling fire-tiger 8AFT Bomber Striper A
lures with molded-in lips. They wiggled
tantalizingly, and the BBs could be rattled by
pumping the rod a bit. The technique was to hold
the rod that was closest to the mangroves so the
rodtip would troll just above the surface and as
close to the edge as possible, while dodging
branches. |
| The
other rod was left in the rod holder. Although
there were no barracuda or catfish to worry about
in the river, schools of big jacks would sometimes
arrive on the scene and blast the plugs.
It was going on
lunchtime when Martin's boat scored a snook. Van
had since transferred to it and we watched him
busily work a small linesider away from the
mangroves. Minutes later, Rick had a tarpon in the
air before losing it, then caught a small one. Had
the bite turned on?
Absolutely. Though my arms were weary from
pulling, shaking and manipulating the rod as we
trolled the mangrove edges, a hard hit got my
blood rushing anew. Although the snook made a
couple of frisky jumps and runs, it was
surprisingly tame, coming to the net in less than
five minutes. The scale showed it weighed 18
pounds.
Now we could celebrate for real. After some
backslaps, fishy handshakes and high-fives, we
decided to go in. A nice shower, cool drink and a
nap sure sounded enticing, especially since we had
another day of fishing ahead of us.
Indeed, day two was a photocopy of the first in
terms of weather. We caught some cuberas early in
the morning, but lost many more. "If you have
a big fish on, don't pump and wind too
furiously," advised Van. "The trebles on
all but the biggest plugs usually pull out if you
do. Pull up gently on the rod with a steady,
smooth stroke, not fast and jerky. Also, don't use
too much drag or a big one will straighten out the
trebles."
We also did the trick on snook, although several
made it into the roots. We put slack in the line
or moved in to try and untangle it, but most of
the time it was futile. No tarpon were caught, but
we ended up tallying 17 snook and four cuberas,
along with a couple of jacks.
Although there are no fishing regulations in
Belize, Van and many other sportsmen keep no more
than three snook and cubera daily per person.
Tarpon, bonefish and permit are all released.
Actually," says Van, "a lot of our
anglers release all of the fish they catch. There
are huge numbers of snook still in our waters, and
we don't want to wipe them out."
That night at the Biltmore Hotel where we were
staying in Belize City, the cook prepared a
mixture of fried snook and cubera, along with
French fries and other accompaniments. It was a
memorable feast, and I must say that cubera--which
I'd never eaten before--is especially flavorful.
Belize City is becoming modernized, and some of
the newer technologies are starting to take hold.
Several months before our trip, Van had given
Sommers a fax machine as a present.
"How's your fax working? asked Van as we
idled to the dock after the first day.
"Don't know,' replied Sommers, "no one's
ever sent me a fax.'
More and more anglers are discovering the
outstanding offshore, reef and flats fishing of
Belize. Even so, the upriver prospects for snook,
tarpon and cubera snapper are still lesser known
than many other Latin American retreats, but if a
Jungle Slam sounds like your cup of tea, Belize
can provide it.
Florida
Sportsman Magazine -- January 1996
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