Los Roques 2025

I’m back from Los Roques and I’m looking at a blank screen and not feeling in the least bit annoying, interesting or provocative, so have decided to write an essay on what I did on my holidays.

Being a predominantly trout bothering small stream/Chalkstream angler, I wanted to do something completely different to mark my retirement from work and decided that I needed to catch a bonefish. I’ve dabbled with saltwater fishing but only as an add-on to a family holiday and have never taken a dedicated saltwater fishing trip.  A dear friend recommended Los Roques to me and organising the event was straightforward through Steffan Jones, another good friend that I trusted to give me good advice.  However, sorting the  flights and insurance was another matter with the BA/One World Alliance continually changing the dates of the return flights and only one company in the U.K. providing travel insurance.

Keeping a long story short, I arrived at Los Roques in time for a leisurely breakfast and a chat with the Felipe the fishing manager, explaining that I would be content if I caught a bonefish and a tarpon on the trip.  Having booked 3 days guided fishing and 4 days DiY, he suggested that I didn’t use a guided day but make a leisurely start so that I could unpack and get my bearings.  After a short discussion about the options, he arranged a water taxi for me to a nearby island and I went fishing.

Arriving at the island, an umbrella and chair was set up alongside a cooler with a generous amount of food, water and beer.  The beach was populated by some really poor ladies that could only afford bikinis made out of string.  Not wanting to fish around other people, I made my way around the back of the island that was populated by mangroves along the shoreline.  The bottom being a mix of white sand, coral and weed beds.  Within minutes of starting to fish, I saw 3 bones and cast to them, the cast falling short.  A quick pick up, slipping line into the back cast, I stuffed the fly into the mangrove behind me.  The fish were long gone before I untangled myself but I was fairly chuffed at seeing any.  Stumbling around the coral, I later saw a streak of blue that I found out was something called a blue runner which I think is a sort of jack.

Making my way around towards the beach to where I had been dropped off, the bottom was changing from coral to weed interspersed with sand before reaching a long sand spit.  Watching a circle of sand within the weed, I saw a bone dash really fast through the clear area into the weed, again too quick for me to take a shot.  About 15 seconds later I saw baitfish clear the water at the edge of the sand circle, so I put my fly right in amongst them, 2 strips later everything locked up solid.  Avoiding the trout strike, I set the fly and then my backing appeared a fraction later as my line headed for the mainland.  I’d read books and watched videos all winter and knew that I had to get the rod tip high, wait for the fish to stop and reel in like a lunatic, then rinse and repeat twice before tea and medals. After the 4th run, I realised that the fish hadn’t read the same books but I eventually landed and unhooked the fish before safely releasing it.

Having achieved 50% of my trip targets in the first couple of hours, I did what any gentleman of a certain age would do - dance an ungainly jig on the beach and go for a beer or two, thinking this saltwater fishing is a doddle.  With the next day being my first guided day, I was confident that I would soon be emptying the sea of fish.

The next chapter of my Los Roques 25 holiday story is currently entitled  “The day the wheels fell off”, I may change it to “Instructors also F’k up”.

PS (Provocative Sidenote) How do anglers watch the rod bend if they can’t take their eyes off the bonefish”