Island
Fever finally caught up with me a few months ago. This is a
pretty common affliction for most of the Gringos who live here
on Vieques. The symptoms vary from person to person, but they’re
typically characterized by a nagging desire to do some of the
ordinary things we took for granted as stateside Americans. For
example, my wife was desperate to go shopping at a grocery store
that stocked thirteen different kinds of fresh mushrooms, and I
wanted to go to a gigantic, air-conditioned theater and see the
new “Transformers” movie. Neither of these things will be coming
to Vieques anytime soon.
We decided a few months ago that after two solid years on the
island we could leave for the summer to catch up with our
northern family and friends. Since my charter business slows way
down around this time, I threw a cover over my boat and rented
our house to a contractor working on the old Navy range. Our dog
Maggie got to go on her first plane ride and in late June we
were heading to my parent’s place on Florida’s gulf coast. By
the end of the month Amanda was making her daily pilgrimages to
the local Publix, shopping for mushrooms, and I got to watch my
giant transforming robots beat the crap out of each other for
two hours on a thirty foot screen. Island Fever is cured.
Of course, a real priority for me while we’re up here is to go
fishing. Fortunately, my parent’s home in Matlacha is right on
some of the best shallow waters in the entire state. With a
canal for a backyard, they’re minutes away from year round snook,
trout, and redfish. We’ve even caught tarpon off their back
dock. Fishing up here is always a treat but coming from a season
chasing bonefish in Vieques, you have to make adjustments for
southwest Florida. For starters, fly rods are the exception, not
the rule. The way you catch fish in Matlacha Pass is with a lot
of live bait or red and white Mirrolures. The best tackle is
medium weight spinning rods and the reels hold 30# test Power
Pro line. Nothing gets the chance to run under the mangroves and
get away. If the hooks hold, the fish is in the boat in less
than a minute. Every once in a while I’ll start tossing a fly
when the sea trout are hitting and usually score quite a few,
but I’m the oddball on the Pass when I do that.
The folks up here in west Florida actually have a lot in common
with the local fishermen down in Vieques. If they’re going
fishing, they’re out to catch something and bring it home. Snook
are often at the top of both group’s lists. They even use the
same live bait, the common pilchard. My dad calls them
“greenies” and my Vieques neighbors call them “sardinias.” They
have to be caught by the hundreds in the morning and once the
live wells are full, the fishing can begin. And since snook
didn’t evolve eating hunks of feathers and yarn, score one for
the bait guys.
The boats they use up here are a different matter altogether.
Shallow water fishing in this area is all about horsepower. My
bonefish skiff in Vieques has a 90 horse outboard, a big motor
for the island where most of the locals run with a lot less. My
dad’s redfish rig blasts along with a 200 horse Mariner and a
lot of the local guides hang 250’s on their skiffs. Getting
there first is a real priority up here, where absolutely
everyone is on the water each weekend. Drag racing dozens of
other guides is something I definitely don’t miss about fishing
in Florida.
But with all the good fishing and conveniences of south Florida,
there are still a lot of things about Vieques that simply can’t
be beat. The beaches, the bonefish, the lack of
traffic
and traffic lights, and the giant chunks of unpaved and
undeveloped countryside start pulling on me after a few months.
We’ll be heading back next week and I’m looking forward to the
island’s busiest season yet. Vieques in the winter is probably
the most pleasant place on earth so if you haven’t been here
yet, make your plans now. The island loves tourists and despite
all the attention we’ve received in the press recently, we’re
still one of the most laid back places in the Caribbean. If we
could just do something about importing more fresh mushrooms,
we’d be perfect.
Capt. Gregg McKee,
WildFly Charters
