Fly-fishing is fly-fishing. We use a rod that uses a heavy line to propel our imitation, rather than rely on the weight of the lure to accomplish same. You would think that learning how to fly cast, and fly fish generally would be a skill that translates amongst most species, but that is not the case. A light 5wt lined with a floating line feels different in the hand than a 10 or 12 weight lined with an intermediate or sinking line. A rod with a very large arbor reel on its own seems to change the way an angler feels and fishes with that rod in their hand, in ways that are both physically explainable and in other respects purely mental for a freshwater angler.
There used to be little cross-over between fresh and salt. Anglers were either trout/freshwater fishermen, or they were salt guys. This was primarily determined by way of the immediate fishing opportunities that were available to them. However, with the growth of media and content in this sport over the last decade, many anglers became intrigued by fish that were outside their comfort zone, myself included.
My first intro to saltwater fly fishing was flats fishing. In a way, it subdued the true rough transition that a freshwater angler experiences when converting to salt because the conditions and approach share some common things with freshwater fishing. Floating lines, sight fishing to a target, relatively small flies, only slightly heavier tippet, and inshore shallow water conditions were common things the flats shared with freshwater trout fishing. Even with those overlaps, I immediately recognized that I was far worse of a caster, and fisherman generally on the salt when I first gave it a shot. And I’m not just talking about my knowledge gap when it came to the fish. I mean I literally fished worse. I had things happen to me on the salt that didn’t happen when I freshwater fished such as having my fly line get caught behind the reel on a regular basis after hooking a fish, my casting accuracy was maybe 50% of what it is when I’m throwing to a rise versus a tailing fish, and I just didn’t fish as well overall. Initially, I got frustrated, not realizing that this distinct difference between freshwater and saltwater fly-fishing was real and caused mistakes to happen that you thought you were well past in your fishing life.
Despite my initial frustrations and limited success, I decided I liked the salt, the challenges it posed, and started reading more up on it. I eventually came up on some articles about roosterfish. I had heard of the fish before, but honestly thought of it as a spin oriented fish that was found in deep rocky areas and envisioned something out of a Larry Dahlberg “ The Hunt for Big Fish” episode. It never occurred to me that these fish were a species you could sight fish for on the fly. As I read more, and watched some videos including the notorious “running down the man”, I became interested. And for the record, I’m not the angler that thinks every new trendy exotic fish species is suddenly an obsession I need to capture. I have no interest in ever catching an Arapaima, don’t care if I ever land or see a Taimen, and think Pacu are the ugliest fish I’ve ever seen. The Roosterfish peaked my interest though, as it was a beautiful fish that seemed to provide sight fishing opportunities inshore and even from the beach.
I took my first shot at going for a Roosterfish in 2017. I flew into Cabo and drove from there to where we were set to fish. I fished primarily from the beach on that trip, in what in hindsight was purely a learning experience and a situation where we had little chance of catching a fish. I spoke with a lot of anglers on the beach during that 4 day trip, hearing everything from use 15lb fluro, to use 40lb fluro these fish are insane. I started with 40 and got a few refusals from fish that gave my fly a casual look. I then had a roosterfish break my 15lb fluro like a cobb-web when I double guessed my 40lb fluro rig. I left with a little experience, more confusion on what the right set up and approach was than when I arrived, but got enough of a taste that I knew I wanted to keep trying. It didn’t hurt that the surroundings and community/culture of the place were incredible.
I came back for a second shot with my wife in June of 2019. She was my girlfriend then, and I played my cards smart in planning to and eventually proposing to her on that trip. I knew the fish was a bitch and I knew I needed every excuse in the world to be able to come back there to eventually get one, so I made it the place of our engagement to solidify that. As a final test before I bent the knee, I rode around on an ATV for 4 days while she stayed at the resort and occasionally came out on the beach to see what I was up to. She was cool with it, and I looked hard getting only a few shots over that 4 day span. I left once again empty handed roosterfish wise, but learned more as I again made sure to talk to guys on the beach and started to filter/absorb more information with the more informed opinions I got from the very dedicated and fishy scene of anglers there.
This year, I was introduced to long time roosterfish angler and owner of Beulah Rods James Shaughnessy by a friend who told me about a trip he runs down there. After speaking with him, I took the shot booking in the heart of winter with cabin fever at its peak. Little did I, or anyone know that a month later, the Covid pandemic would occur and caused my flight to be cancelled. When the flight was cancelled, I reached out to James and asked if pushing my May trip back to June would make the trip possible and he thought it would be doable based on stated timelines from the Mexico government. I knew this was a quality chance to get a Roosterfish and did not want time to cause me to pass on an otherwise great opportunity that if put off til “next year”, may never happen. I rebooked my trip for June hoping the flight and trip would go forward. And fortunately it did.
The trip down was smooth and in arriving at the lodge the fishy vision I had for this trip was already showing signs of being real. The place was nice, but had clear indicia of fish bros inhabiting the place with tying vices, feathers, rods, reels, lines, and beer scattered all over what would otherwise be described as a luxurious backdrop. That first night, I spoke with the guys staying there that were an interesting mix of people that had fished there several times on average, and indicated the fishing was good. I was excited.
The first morning, James was cool enough to join me in the boat with the guide to show me how the game is played. We rolled out to one of the more consistent spots near where we were staying first thing in the morning, and within 5 minutes of arriving a creature that looked like a legitimate horse came rushing to the surface as it blew up on some bait, scaring the hell out of me. Going back to the freshwater to salt conversion, I could barely cast, let alone make a good cast as I was so taken back by the power of the fish. I then followed that act by missing two “grandes” within a 30 minute span, exposing me as a freshwater brah trying to act like this was the same game. I fumbled my way through the morning and landed a couple of smaller roosters in the afternoon to technically break the skunk and get on the board, but did not feel like I fished well at all. (Thank you Rich Strolis for the flies btw).
The next day, the fishing was not as good to begin, but in the late afternoon we started seeing some big fish breaking the surface in a back bay/cove on our way back to the lodge. I made casts to them that were pretty decent, but which were ignored in a similar fashion to how stale podded up tarpon don’t react to your fly despite having it right in front of their face. I thought it was a lost cause until I saw a fish break in the corner of my eye and made a long backhand cast that landed right on the money right in front of the fish. He blew up on it immediately like a dry fly (perhaps why I did something right in this moment) and was instantly hooked. I fought the fish for over an hour, and landed my first “Grande” roosterfish. After 3 years it had happened.
After that fish, the trip was made. Despite being content, I inevitably became re-disappointed and frustrated with myself as I continued to fumble my way through the trip as only an out of place freshwater angler could. I blew far more shots than I converted on, but picked away and did enough things right to put together a decent trip in terms of fish landed- with a mix of medium and a few large roosters throughout the remaining 5 days. The knowledge gained was invaluable and with each day I felt I had learned a trip’s worth of angling knowledge. Mid day and evening conversations with James and others that had done this far more than me helped bring to light some nuances that were not only relevant to this fish, but what I came to chalk up to being just salt-water oriented details a trout guy doesn’t think of. Putting the fly on the fish wasn’t the key, but rather putting the fly on the fish at that peak point of frenzy behavior when the water was stirred and the fish was, for a moment, vulnerable and capable of making a mistake was the key. Rigging was essential, as a fish of that size and power exposes any weak link in your tippet, even the slightest nick from a rock or needlefish that gnawed the leader (which regularly happened). If you weren’t sure, you had to re rig. And going against that principle cost me a few fish I’d love to have back.
In heading home, there was great relief and a sense of accomplishment that I had finally gotten the roosterfish I was looking for over the last 3 years. But I didn’t leave feeling like I figured it out. I left feeling like my 25 years of fly fishing generally, the help of quality guiding, and being repeatedly put in great situations allowed me to do just enough to get the Grande I came for, and that I have so much to learn with this game. The flies, the gear, the presentation and approach. At the end of the day that’s why any angler expands their horizons beyond the fish they normally pursue. A roosterfish they probably see every week had me shaking and unable to cast that first day. For me it was new, exciting, that thing every experienced angler chases after they’ve caught and released enough of their regular fish of choice. As my friend said 12 beers deep the other night after feeling Shakespearian “ What’s won is done, the thrill is in the doing.”
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