by Mike Sabine
Strictly speaking, this is a fishing trip story, but it does not stay in the memory that way. Rather, it was a remarkable journey through natural, ecological, and cultural diversity. Chasing Tarpon, the mighty “silver king,” was a great reason to go.
The voyage goes from Bluefields Lagoon and up through Pearl Lagoon to Top Lock, a smaller water body fed by the Rio Grande de Matagalpa. On land, it would cross the same latitudes as a road trip between Masaya and Matagalpa. No roads here though and so it is faster by boat.
It was also a journey across an amazing variety of aquatic systems: from miles- wide shallow lagoons that stretch across the horizon to broad mountain-fed rivers, to narrow snaking jungle-lined creeks. There are small lagoons off the large ones and dredged canals connect them all.
Study detailed topographic maps of the South Atlantic Autonomous Region and you will see it is spider web of rivers, lagoons, and swamps. Some stretches of river deep into the interior may have never seen a vessel other than a dugout canoe paddled by a resident of one of the few primitive homesteads scattered along the banks.
The ecosystems lining the waterways are diverse as well. In places, the water’s edge is lined by swamps and marshes filled with palms, tall grasses, and broadleaf shrubs. Forests of towering white-barked hardwoods dominate in places: at times distinctly different flora systems flourish on opposite banks of the same narrow course. These are notable in that they can be as deep as they are wide, rare among rivers.
The accompanying water color is ever changing as well, from clear blue or green to murky to tea-like tannin stained. Often there are distinct break lines between colors and currents that mark the transition to a new waterway.
Above one shore, a troop of Spider Monkeys strolled leisurely through the treetops, hands, tails and feet grasping branches, swinging along in easy rhythm. Farther ahead, a White-Faced Monkey stared at our passing with casual indifference. White egrets take wing here and there; an osprey circled overhead, fishing as well.
My wilderness companions were two Managua professionals, Pepe and Polo. These animated gentlemen had extensive resumés as outdoorsmen and Pepe especially has a genuine Hemingway-esque zest for living life to the extreme. He even looks like the famous writer.
Our guide was Allan Brooks who keenly steered his way through this complex aquatic maze. Standing at the helm, eyes fixed on the horizon, Allan zigzagged around obstacles and turns, gliding along at 45 knots. For crossing the broad expanses of the lagoon getting out on the water with the sunrise is vital. When the wind whips up midmorning it would be a jarring, wave pounding ride. The mirror like water surface of early morning makes for a smooth pleasure cruise.
This is, to borrow a phrase, big sky country. The horizon is amazingly expansive here. Billowing clouds, stacked high, drift across the deep blue sky in constantly shifting formations. After enjoying the three-hour high speed run through it all, we arrived at our first fishing ground, a mini-lagoon of some twenty acres.
It is always a thrill to land (and release) a marquee game fish of over 100 pounds. Usually, this is done on the open sea. While that is still exciting, it is true exhilaration and a test of angling skill to capture one in the confines of a small body of water in a small craft. Like taming a tiger in a cage.
With tropical forest overhanging the nearby shore, the quarry literally has a chance to make a counter move. There are fallen logs to wrap around, bottom cover to find. Most often the Tarpon does escape, usually with a rocketing leap into the air immediately on hook up, followed by an arrogant snap of the head that sends the lure flying right back at you. Action is fast.
After three “silver kings” had made good their escape in this manner, Pepe managed to boat the first one after a 40-minute fight that left the angler as exhausted as the prey.
After four head-shaking leaps followed by a series of dogged runs away from the boat failed to secure its release, the Tarpon took a different tack and dove for the bottom.
Repeatedly, Pepe fought to work the fish to the surface, only to watch it flip its tail and then rip line off the spool in a headlong plunge back to the bottom. Finally, it surrendered to be slid up on deck, photographed, revived boat side, and freed.
Polo got on the scoreboard as well with a slightly less epic 20-minute struggle that boated the other Tarpon of the trip, leaving the dynamic duo with two captures out of about a dozen hookups. As we fished along other river systems, the intrepid outdoorsmen succeeded in bagging the “Nicaraguan Triple Crown.” Besides Tarpon, this includes Jack Crevelle and Snook. Our fishing day complete, we then headed to our lodging in the riverside village of Karawala.
A land apart
On the Atlantic Coast, you also pass among different cultures, from Afro-Caribbean to Miskito Indian and Mestizo. Our departure point of Bluefields is a mix of the three, Pearl Lagoon, a stop along the way, is distinctly Afro-Caribbean and our end point, Karawala, is indigenous.
Our stay in there was as memorable a part of the trip as the fishing. This scattering of some five dozen homes and a couple of Moravian churches on the banks of the Rio Grande de Matagalpa is said to be the last intact Ulwa Indian village.
Take a stroll through town in the evening and you will hear Spanish and some English, especially from radios, but the conversation on the stoop of most houses is in the vowel-laden halting cadence of the Indian tongue.
These houses range from jerrybuilt shanties with oil lamps hanging on the porch to a couple of rather elegant cement homes with wide verandas and wrought iron railings. Most common are simple but neatly kept wood plank cabins on stilts, painted pastel shades of yellow, green, and blue.
It is a lifestyle that many people do not know still exists in this high-tech age, a visit to the land time forgot. There is electricity: a cheer went up when the diesel generator chugged to life and the lights came on. Said Polo heaving a wistful sigh, “I feel so Nicaraguan here.”
The only other evidence of the 21st century is a single plastic Pepsi sign. Cooking is done by firewood, suppertime smoke hanging thick in the evening air. Bathroom facilities are a pair of outhouses out back, one with a water bucket and bowl for bathing, another with a wooden seat and a pit below. Bring a flashlight: if nature calls at night, you don’t want to risk bumping into any roving livestock. Squealing swine raise a startling ruckus in the pitch dark when you step on them.
We departed in the early morning to catch the sunrise where the river meets the Atlantic Ocean. The sun made a long, slow, brilliant-orange entrance, its cloud-split rays shooting across the sky. After a brief morning fishing session, we took the aquatic highway home.
If you would like to live this experience yourself, contact Randy Poteet at Casa Rosa (832-4269) in Bluefields. He speaks fluent Hillbilly; his lovely wife Rosa handles the Spanish.
The Fishing Facts
For angling aficionados, these are the procedural details. We trolled with seven-foot medium-heavy action rods and open-faced reels. Almost exclusively, we used 1 to 1½-ounce Rattle Traps. A red and white pattern was most successful, but chartreuse worked as well. A metallic-blue Rapala casting minnow also drew strikes while trolled. Slow trolling against the current at about three knots with the bait at near contact with the bottom drew the most strikes.
In this manner, we boated an assortment of Snook and Jacks in the 8-to-16 pound range. Our boat an 18.5-foot Wide V fiberglass Proline with a walk around fishing deck. It is powered with a 115 HP Suzuki outboard. Water temperature remained a constant 81 degrees through out. The best months for Tarpon are February through April, though tarpon migrations occur before and after that.
