by Mike Sabine

If there is one word to describe the experience of the Rio San Juan, it would be life. There is so much life, in so many forms, in, on and around this river that connects Lake Nicaragua to the Atlantic Ocean that it beggars description where to start. Dense jungle forest rises like twin green palisades along its banks, vine wrapped trees and tangled ground foliage crowd the river’s edge. Egrets, cranes and storks wade the shallows feeding on small fish. Flocks of waterfowl leap frog down the river. Troops of monkeys call from the trees and alligators sunning themselves on rocks slide into the water as your boat glides by. And fish, most apparently the huge silver tarpon, jump and roll on the river’s surface.

Life below the surface is as varied as above; snook, rainbow bass, machaca and a host of other fish species make the San Juan one of the regions’, if not the continent’s, most exciting sport fishing destinations.

I joined David and Lydia Dell, who were working on another article in this edition, at Managua Airport. We flew across Lake Nicaragua to the mouth of the Rio San Juan at San Carlos where we met Alfonso Llanes, owner of Montecristo Resort and our host for the trip.

Located where both the Rio San Juan and Rio Frio join Lake Nicaragua, San Carlos offers sweeping views of beautiful sunsets over both the lake and river. There is also a new nature museum and the remains of an 18th century fort. It is a dreary and dusty little town, however, with a long way to go before becoming a destination in itself. It’s also where we first saw our first silver king leap into the air.

The silver king is the most common nickname given to the tarpon by anglers, describing the bright flash that reflects from its large silver scales when it jumps, which it does with maddening frequency. The tarpon has a swim bladder containing lung-like tissue and a duct leading to the esophagus that is filled directly with air gulped from the surface. This feature allows the tarpon to take oxygen directly from the air and increases its tolerance of oxygen-poor waters; it explains why you see tarpon all day, but catching one on hook and line is another story. Tarpon, an ancient species whose family originated in the Jurassic period, grow to 200 pounds in the Rio San Juan.

The bronze/silver pike-shaped snook is the Rio San Juan’s second marquee game fish, growing to over 40 lbs. Some reports say fish larger than that have been taken by net and consumed before being weighed. Snook are renowned for their sporting value, fighting hard and jumping often after hitting a variety of flies and lures, widely sought from the American South through South America. They are also one of the best tasting fish on the menu at fine seafood restaurants around the country.  

The first morning was slow, but there was constant action in the afternoon. First we fished live minnows at the mouth of a small river where it joined the San Juan, catching a variety of bottom feeding species. Since the fish were active, we switched to artificial lures and began trolling at about four knots with deep diving Rapala lures, bouncing along the river bottom in 15-20 feet of water. Nearly immediately we hooked a four-pound snook, which made its escape by taking to the air as we tried to net it. But we landed another soon, then a machaca, a silver drum and some turbot looking thing; I don’t know what it was. It continued on like this for several hours, four different hard-fighting species hitting the same lures all on the same stretch of river. For the sport fisherman this is a rare freshwater experience and shows what a diverse ecosystem the Rio San Juan is, above water and below. And all while sitting on a cooler of cold beer cruising through a jungle paradise. What a grand moment in life.  

Unfortunately, the action was cut short. One of these leaping fish resulted in the catch of the day, a 180 lbs. editor. A snook jumped and spit the lure, which shot back like a boomerang and smacked resoundingly against my jaw. A treble hook lodged in the skin well past the barb. Visitors to the San Juan will be reassured to know there is a modern clinic in the pleasant little logging village of Boca de Sabalos. Boy you get a lot of attention walking through town with a shiny blue lure hanging from your jaw. Small children hold their own jaws and just stare in wonder. We had picked up Dr. Rommel Mendieta, a plastic surgeon from Managua who has a cabin on the river, and he painlessly removed the hook without a trace of a scar.

Back at the resort we had grilled snook and machaca ceveche for dinner that evening on the porch overlooking the moonlit river at the Montecristo, professionally prepared and well presented. A seafood lover’s treat fresh from the water.

Our attempts to hook a tarpon proved less successful. They were rolling on the surface in pairs, beginning to spawn. Having love on their minds, they weren’t interested in chasing our plastic imitations. We cast lures and trolled them to no avail, all afternoon and the next day. I was awoken at sunrise the morning we were leaving by a resort employee, “Come down to the dock!.” I got there in time to reel in a tarpon they had hooked, nearly exhausted after a long fight. I guess the secret to tarpon fishing is to get up before the sun rises.