|Evening shades of gold.|
The uttering of that name sends shivers down the necks of any serious saltwater flyfisherman and a trophy specimen is on the top 3 bucket list of the same group. I’ve been lucky enough to catch several fair sized specimens over the years but have been chasing my trophy for a long time now. And, well, I am still waiting. He will come though!
But to prevent this post from becoming convoluted, let me get back to point. This evening I grabbed the #3 and few
experimental Muggle flies and heading down the road to see if I could convince one of them eat my latest guesswork of fur and feather. In the pocket I had a couple of blood worm imitations, a small shrimpish looking fly, a minuscule crab and, as always, a few Crazy Charlies (one should never leave home without at least a couple of Charlies in the box). Mom and Dad, who are visiting at the moment, came for the short and where heading down the beach for a swim.
As things go, I had barely told them to enjoy their swim when Dad shouted that there was a permit swimming toward me. I asked him if he was sure. He told to stop being ridiculous and catch the damn thing!
“Our” Permit, by-the-way, is actually called a Pompano (Trachinotus blochii) and is the Indian Ocean’s version (and close cousin) of Trachinotus Falcatus – the famous Permit of the Western Atlantic.
Getting ahead of the fish was made easy by the sea wall that I was fishing from and a flick of the old 3 weight put the Charlie just far enough ahead of the Permit for him see it sink but that close that he got spooked by the big plop.