Permit Redemption

When permit fishing starts to go wrong there is invariably only one conclusion... disappointment. That is part of the overall game but the wound feels that much deeper and the scars that much more prominent when permit fishing.  It's more than just soul crushing when losing a permit on fly because at the very first sign of you accepting your fate, regret rears its ugly head as if to somehow reinforce that disappointment. You contemplate, why did i not do that, I should have done this, I can't believe I went and did that! And so on.

Need images caption and credit.

Recently I was out with an apprentice guide who at the time was probably only 4 days into his training when i experienced permit emotions of the sort i will likely never experience again.

A fish had appeared on the edge of the flat while i was half way through a roast beef sandwich. ' Tarpon, Tarpon ' I heard so I jumped to my feet, quietly hopped onto the bow stripping line from my rigged ten weight only to look up and see two large permit heading directly at the boat. No time for a permit versus tarpon 101 ID talk so a quick switch of rigs to my trusty 9wt, merkin variation combo allowed me just enough time for one cast before they got too close. I was on the money and with a classic ' tilt a wiggle ' eat it gave me all the indication i needed to set the hook firmly.

I was now buttoned up to the biggest permit i had ever hooked. I shouted out to get the engine started and began chasing this fish now screaming line out towards deeper water. I'd probably lost a good 150 yds before we were underway. At about the same time the fish itself started to slow and with the boat now underway we started putting line back on the reel. After another 15 minutes of the usual back and forth, now you got me, now you don't games close to the boat that permit seem to love so much, I knew I was close to the capture. The intensity level was now ramping up as our expectations of success were growing by the second.

As I see the first signs of the fish really tiring i began dialogue as to the techniques of tailing a permit. This after all was his first tarpon, i mean permit, he had ever seen. I was nervous, very nervous but there was no way i wanted to attempt to tail this myself and now being in 8 feet of water away from the flat there was no option to get out of the boat and land this fish.

As the fight neared its conclusion we began discussing things in more detail. Emphasis was made on the need to immediately lift the fishes tail out of the water once the 'wrist' has been grabbed, explaining how permit are extremely powerful and that lifting the tail from the water negates that power so making it easier to get the fish under control. Many nods of understanding and acknowledgment were exchanged before the fish was finally being swept to the side of the boat.  The trainee guide was on his knees in the cockpit of the skiff waiting patiently for me to bring the fish to him on its side as we had discussed. There was no lunging for the fish and a text book grab of the permits tail wrist was executed flawlessly but noooooooooooo... in a split second there was an eruption of water boat side some droplets of which spraying me 12 feet away on the bow. In an instant the scene changed from what seemed a controlled environment into complete mayhem. Confusion and panic set it and the next thing I see are the soles of two bare feet as they entered the water. The unthinkable had happened.  All of a sudden he was gone. There was for just a moment absolutely nothing I could focus on to determine what had actually just happened. A second earlier there was a person and a fish. Now, in a blink of an eye there was no permit, no guide and no signs of life even !!  Just an empty scene of churned and foaming saltwater. A few more seconds of confusion passed and then the very first indicator of life began slowly to emerge. A solitary ball cap suddenly popped to the surface and moments later as the churned water began to clear there they were, 6 feet below the surface wrestling with each other. Arms and legs thrashing as was tail and head. There he was valiantly holding on and fighting hard. It was not until that moment that I realized this permit had literally pulled him out of the boat.

A few seconds more of underwater tango and the separation of Man and fish happened as the permit took the upper hand with both now in his environment.  The leader too parted ways and this magnificent fish was once again free and heading north at quite some speed.

The trainee guide surfaced gasping for breath with eyes the size of saucers. He retrieved his cap and swam back to the boat which gave me just enough time to grab my camera to take a few shots of the crime scene. I was not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point. What I did know was that I had just lost my carrier permit. I would be getting no photos of the biggest permit of my life.

Once he poured himself back into the boat I snapped a couple more images of him to help tell this story at the bar and as  I turned to put my camera away I caught sight of the permit on the surface about 100 yards away. It was still swimming away with its sickle fin out as if giving me the bird. I have no idea why I thought this was even possible but I instinctively fired up the engine, put it into full throttle and ran towards the fish. As i got within about 30 feet it dived for the bottom and made a hard right so i followed. It zigged, I zigged. It zagged and i zagged. As I followed it had not escaped my attention that the island we had hooked this fish on was now only about 300 or so yards away. It also occurred to me that there was once again some semblance of control I had on this fish. It would dart in different directions and swim as hard as it could but i was now herding this fish as the boat and engine allowed me the speed and maneuverability to cut off its escape. I continued doing so for the next several minutes and i ran this fish down cutting it off from swimming in any direction that was not towards the cay. The fish slowly started to weaken and the distance between it and the island was closing. I really started believing I could do this and a minute or so later I had herded this permit up into the shallows of the very same cay i had hooked it on. As we entered the shallower water the engine began hitting bottom so I shouted instructions to jump from the bow and cut it off from going left as i in turn jumped to starboard to cut any escape to its right. We both started thrashing the water and continued bottlenecking this fish further and further onto the flat until it arrived at a small clump of mangroves no bigger than 2 feet across. For some reason, i assume fatigue it just bumped into that tiny mangrove and stopped.  As the trainee was closest he found himself presented once again with the opportunity to grab this fish. This time I bellowed the instructions of the he instantly had the tail 3 feet in the air more reminiscent of a WWE move this time than his preferred tailing a permit being dragged from the boat move. We had it. It gave up there and then.  Redemption for Devon.

I worked my way back to the boat, secured it and grabbed the camera. i took one picture from far away just in case this all got ' weird ' again and then swapped camera for fish with Devon. We took some images of the fish, I retrieved my fly and let her go. She swam off strong which was so nice to see.

We went back to the boat and for some reason we were both very quiet. I can't speak for Devon but I just started playing back in my head what had just happened. Up until that point it was all just a jumble of hectic bursts of reality that made no sense. Now with the adrenaline dropping and the time to reflect on what happened it dawned on me what an amazing piece of team work we had just pulled off. Also what a baptism of fire for Devon as a potential saltwater fly fishing guide.

We giggled all the way back to the ramp and then onto the bar. I still can't believe it myself sometimes.