Top Tips: An Englishman Abroad - Mexico Flats Fly Fishing

Rodney Wevill and fellow PFFA member Jethro Binns headed to the Mexican flats for two weeks of do-it-yourself fishing on the west Caribbean coast of Mexico. Here what they came back with...

Firstly, I would like to say that if this all sounds daunting, it certainly can be. This was my first trip outside Europe, so I was faced with organising a hire car, a 13-hour flight, accommodation, and dealing with my total lack of knowledge of tropical saltwater fly fishing and the type of coastline we were about to target.

Stage one:

First, we booked flights with British Airways from Gatwick to Cancun, which was all very straightforward. Second, we hired a car from an international rental company in the UK, and that too was easily sorted.

The first part of our fishing adventure was to be at Boca Paila, on the long dirt road from Tulum to Punta Allen. We arranged a self-catering apartment in Tulum, which is about a 40-minute drive from Boca Paila, so everything was going well and without breaking the bank.

Stage two:

I arrived in Cancun at 22:30 on Thursday evening. Jethro had been there for a week already, so he had already collected the hire car and was at the airport to greet me. We drove straight to our accommodation in Tulum, roughly a one-and-a-half-hour drive. We agreed to set off at 6 a.m. the next morning to head over to Boca Paila, where Jethro had already fished for a few days and had enjoyed some success with bonefish and blue runners. So it was a case of unpacking the gear and setting the alarm.

Stage three: the fishing at Boca Paila.

We arrived at Boca Paila bridge at 7:30 and set up the gear, both choosing 9' 9# and 9' 6# outfits.

We walked up to the bridge, which spans the mouth of the river entering the sea. Jethro wanted to show me the 14-foot saltwater crocodile that lives just off the bridge. It was not at home that morning, so we began a 1,000-metre walk through the mangrove forest that led to the open sea. About 200 metres in, I started to wonder: if the croc is not at home, is he in the mangroves? Jethro, get a move on, I thought to myself.

We arrived at the mouth of the river and were greeted by the most wonderful blue ocean. The sun was rising, the temperature was already above 25 degrees, and the water felt beautifully warm as we waded out about 50 metres to reach a submerged sandbar.

First up was the 9# outfit with a 20 lb tapered leader on a floating tropical line. My fly choice was a tan, weighted shrimp pattern.

From the first few blind casts we were into blue runners and a couple of bonefish. Jethro cast his 6# at some bonefish he spotted and promptly connected.

Suddenly, I saw a shoal of tarpon ranging from 30 to 140 lb rolling on the surface, so I stopped and changed my leader to 50 lb straight through and tied on a black and red tarpon pattern. The fish were only about 50 metres to my right, and I was about to wade towards them when Jethro shouted, “Dorsal fin!” Hell yes—there was a 10-foot bull shark working around the shoal of tarpon. So we decided to stay put and hope either the tarpon would come to us or the bull shark would move away.

There was some red water caused by sargassum weed straight in front of me, making sight fishing impossible, so I decided to cover the water blind.

On the second cast, as I pulled the fly back at a quick pace, everything locked up and something had the rod bent double, heading out to sea very fast and very hard. It did not stop, and there were no furious leaps, so I knew it was not a tarpon. After the hardest-running fish I have ever encountered and a 20-minute battle, I finally got the fish in hand: a decent-sized jack crevalle.

Now on cloud nine and less than an hour into the session, I cast again and right away—boom. But this was boom-boom. The rod was pulled hard around before I could even strip-strike, and the fish was already clear out of the water. It was a tarpon of around 40 lb. The first sight of it made me shake. It tore off hard, then stopped, and I could feel it building up. Then came the head shake and, about 75 metres out, it launched straight back out of the water with a somersault—and off it came. The hook had been thrown.

I looked at Jethro, shaking and laughing, with all thoughts of sharks, stingrays and crocs gone from my over-excited head. We were in heaven, and it was the first time in my life I truly realised how lucky I was to be alive.

We fished Boca Paila for a few days and caught many bonefish, blue runners, jack crevalle and snook. We also sighted permit to 30 lb and snook of a similar size.

Stage four: Mahahual.

The next stage of our adventure was a four-hour drive down to Mahahual, where we were going to stay in Nick Denbow’s apartment. Nick is the man in Mahahual—a top guide and an all-round top bloke. We were going to fish this part of the coast for the next eight days, mainly DIY, but we had booked Nick for two days of guiding.

Well, I thought Boca was magical, but we were in for a very special few days.

Again, the setups were 9' 6#, 9# and 10# rods, good-capacity well-braked reels, and plenty of gel-spun backing—250 metres plus. We used tropical floating lines, with one 10# setup rigged with wire trace for barracuda.

Fly patterns ranged from small shrimp and crabs to baitfish, needlefish and tarpon specials.

The fishing was all about sight fishing across miles upon miles of crazy, fish-filled water.

For bonefish, it was a case of casting to the target, letting it sink, and then stripping it back quickly.

For permit, it was cast, let it sink, and fish it much the same as for bonefish—unless using a crab pattern. In that case, a slower, longer retrieve worked best, with a brief pause before starting again as the fish closed on the fly.

For barracuda, it was cast and strip back like lightning, very much like fishing for our pike. They either wanted it or they did not. If they did, they chased at speed and all hell broke loose once they were hooked—crazy leaps and blistering runs.

For tarpon, a medium retrieve was the key, and when they took, all I can say is—oh man, it was exciting. Hard pulls, head shakes, giant leaps and plenty of thrown hooks.

The list just goes on: we landed and lost horse-eye jacks, snook, barracuda, crevalle, snapper, blue runners, bonefish, triggers, permit, saltwater perch, and fish I had never seen before. We shared the coast with sharks, stingrays, crocodiles, exotic birds, jaguars, grey foxes, snakes, spiders and iguanas.

We fished all but two days on our own, true DIY style, with great success. But the two days with Nick Denbow were a real education, and I could not recommend him highly enough. He runs the Western Caribbean Fly Fishing School based in Mahahual.

A once-in-a-lifetime trip? No chance—we were booked up again for later in the year. Everything was easy to organise all the way through. The people we met were lovely and kind, the food was amazing, and the fishing was simply out of this world. We actually fished for three weeks, with seven days on a Paul Proctor-hosted Fly Odyssey trip at Punta Allen. Now that is another story for another day—big permit and loads of bonefish.

So if you fancy trying it and want to keep the cost down, I would really recommend giving DIY fishing off the beaches a go. It is superb value fishing. Mix it up with a couple of days with Nick and you will be hooked.