Day 1: Exploration of the new turf. Our barn-house sat 200 yards up from the beach. We took the day to hike and scout. J got on the fish first, a sly little barracuda that he managed to keep despite his lack of wire. A true magician with the rod. The stoke was reel. The five of us kept moving down the coast. The Big One got another cuda next. I was fishing my own ties, thinking it was time to switch when the fish gods blessed me with my first saltwater fish on the fly. Little reef snapper.


J got this epic shot of the release.

Then the reel sounds, back arches and the boys holler. J on a big jack. Good fight, possibly the fish of the trip on the first day. After the fight we took the fish to the beach. The big One prepared sashimi for the boys. We were hungry.


The only way to cap off one of the best days ever is to party the only way we know how. Rogue as fuck. People got word of the Gringos around and when me and The Big One came back from town we saw commotion around our dock. J is teaching little kids to cast, smiles all around. Young mothers looking at the boys with googely eyes. We are all pretty damn handsome, can’t blame them. Billy, a Honduraian local said they’d be back later to hangout, the ladies had to put their kids to sleep. We cook dinner, bought the islands stock of beer, and began the ritual. The newly acquired acquaintances did show up, and we had a great international party. We taught them how to play Queens, they taught us some Spanish. Mad Hewy already knew a lot, probably why he got some. The night wrapped up, maybe some incidents to explicit for public blogs…


2015James MugeleGuanaja