Tarpon Tempest by Dave Vedder

Looking back, I suspect Caesar was more afraid of the 18-foot crocodile that lived near the inlet than he was of crashing breakers that guarded the mouth of the San Juan. Either way, the result was the same: there was no way he was going to pilot our samll skiff through the surf that blocked our route to the open Caribbean.

It was maddening. Less than 100 yards of foaming sea stood between me and huge schools of hungry tarpon. For three straight days we had hoped for a break in the weather, but each morning we were disappointed by the sight of angry, churning surf outside the river mouth. Another day of waiting. After months of planning the frustration was almost unbearable.

For nearly a year I had swapped telephone calls and e-mails with Dr. Alfredo López, owner of the Rain Goddess. Dr. López had informed me that his luxury houseboat-lodge was anchored in an unspoiled lagoon, where world-class fishing was just a short cast away in any direction. He even promised that I would catch a 100-pound tarpon. He said that almost everyone did! Of course, there was no way my genial host could have predicted the unusual winter storm that coincided with my arrival last January.

But every fishing trip is an adventure, and this one was no exception. In fact, just getting to the Rain Goddess was an adventure in itself. Guests have their choice of flying from San José, the capital of Costa Rica, to the airstrip in Barra Colorado. Alternatively, they can drive to the Sarapique River and travel by boat. Since I was eager to see as much of Costa Rica and Nicaragua as possible, I opted for the latter route.

Magic Journey

The highway to the Sarapique took us through Costa Rica's famous cloud forest, across fertile farmlands and finally to the river landing. A dozen long, narrow scows sat with their bows planted in the muddy bank, awaiting the constant stream of passengers who use the river as the area's only highway.
Curiously, I was the only fisherman in the group. The rest of our entourage consist- ed of intemationally acclaim- ed naturalists John Hall III and Chester Skotak, Skotak's two teenage boys, and several Rain Goddess employees.
John and Chester told me that the remote border region of Nicaragua and Costa Rica is one of the most biologically diverse areas in the world. They were returning to search for plant species never before identified. As we worked our way downstream, John kept up a running narrative, point- ing out dozens of rare plants and many animals, including a huge crocodile sunning itself on the bank.
At the junction of the San Juan we had our papers check- ed by the border guards and crossed into Nicaragua. It was late aftemoon by the time we arrived at the Rain Goddess. Since there wasn't enough daylight left to fish for tarpon, my guide Caesar suggested we try for fat snook, locally known as calba. After motor- ing upriver a short distance, we anchored at the mouth of a small feeder stream and began casting two-ounce, plastic- tailed jigs. The action was immediate, and we hooked a fish on almostevery cast. The calba averaged five pounds, and put up spirited battles that usually included several jumps and a few short runs. I counted them as a great warm-up to the epic duels with tarpon that surely awaited.

After a restless first night aboard the Rain Goddess, I awoke to find the waters outside the lodge lashed by strong winds and heavy rain. Unusual weather for January, I was told, but the winter of 2001 had been strange almost everywhere.

A brief look at the mouth of the San Juan confirmed our fears: There was no way anyone was going to make it out of the river. Instead, we walked along the beach, cast- ing one-ounce bucktail jigs into the surf. Caesar told me that many tarpon had been taken from shore, but he doubted the fish would be present in the heavy surf. He was right about thé tarpon, but an hour of casting did produce two jacks and several snook.

Lagoon Adventure

For the next two days our routine remained the same: check the river mouth at daybreak, do a bit of surfcasting, then head upriver to beat up on calba. It was great fun, but not what I had come here for.

On day four, John and Chester invited me to join them on ajourney through a seldom-traveled creek in search of rare plants. Knowing I wouldn't be able to fishfoúarpon in the ocean, Iagreed to come along on what proved to be a great adventute. We headed upriver iu two boats, looking for the hidden mouth of Spanish Creek. Once we found it. we ducked inside and found ourselves in a jungle paradise. The narrow creek meandered for many miles through otherwise impenetrable vegetation. Along the way we saw herons, igua- nas, monkeys and many species of tropical birds, and John and Chester stopped often to photograph orchids, bromeliads and other rare plants. At one spot we noticed fresh jaguar tracks mingling with those of wild pigs on the muddy bank.

The creek eventually led to a shal- low lagoon that stretched to the Carib- bean. Our guides asked if we would like to try a bit of fishing here, and everyone quickly agreed, In a matter of minutes, anglers in both boats were bat- tling snook. These were not the small calba, but much larger common snook. For the next hour we hooked one snook after another. Most were in the six- to ten-pound class, but Chester Jr. hooked a huge fish that promptly spooled him, then jumped a dozen times with the lure still embedded in' its lip.

Snapper Surprise!
As we were about to leave, Caesar sug- gested that we try trolling near the in- land end of the lagoon. He hinted that tarpon might be a possibility. That was all the encouragement I needed. Soon after I put out my plug, something yanked the rod tip down. I set the hook and met with solid resistance. I didn't know what I had, but it was a heckof a lot stronger than the snook we had been catching. After a long, dogged battle, I finally brought the fish alongside. It turned out to be a fine rnangrove snap- per, which made a mouth-watering meal that night back at the lodge.

Tarpon ...at Last
With only one day left and still no tar- pon, Dr. Lopez decided to break out the big guns. He contacted Eddy Brown, a guide from a village about 20 miles away who fishes from a 26-foot center console equipped with twin lOO-hp outboards. Lopez said that Eddy was the best tarpon fisherman around, and that his large boat could get over the bar when others couldn't. Eddy and I chatted over breakfast as tropical rain pelted the lagoon. He told me he had taken a look at the ocean on his way over from his vil- lage, and was certain we could get out. He also said there were tons of tarpon to be had. We headed to the river mouth in a downpour with winds gusting to 20 knots. Eddy carefully picked his way through the breakers, rushing forward between waves and hesitating or back- ing up whenever alarge wave broke in front of us. In less than five minutes we were outside the breakers. Tarpon land at last!

We motored through steep seas until we found a seam where the brown water of the San Juan met the clear Caribbean. On the way out I saw several tarpon roll. I wanted to castto these fish, but Eddy said, "Be patient. We will have you a tarpon soon."

Eddy positioned us at the edge of the color change and rigged two rods with 3/4-OUnce curly-tail jigs. We had been jigging for 15 minutes when Eddy hollered, "There he is!" and set the hook hard. However, by the time I had reeled in my line and grabbed my camera the fish was off.

While checking my leader before recasting, I noticed a small nick that Eddy said had been caused by a tar- pon. "Sometimes they bite so soft you never feel a thing," he said. "But their sharp gill plate will nick your leader every time."
Now I was totally stoked. Wehad made contact with two tarpon within

l5 minutes. Even so, Eddy said he didn't like the present spot, so he moved the boat about two miles to the southem edge of the brown water that was spewing from the San Juan. Once we had stopped, Eddy said, "Get ready. Everything is perfect. We will have a tarpon soon." As we sat and jigged, I asked Eddy if he had ever had a double-header. "Heck, yes," he said. "l have had qua- druple-headers. My best day ever is 128 fish jumped and 12 landed." He explained that due to the tarpon's ex- traordinarily hard mouth, his guests land only about one fish for every ten jumped.

As if to prove Eddy's point, a tar- pon slammed my jig.l reared back on the rod three times and the fish exploded from the water. "Bow to the king! Bow to the king!" Eddy shout- ed, but his advice came too late. The fish had thrown the hook.
"Not to worry, man," Eddy smiled. "There are plenty of tarpon here. We will have another soon."
In the next hour we jumped six tarpon, including one that slammed Eddy's jig within ten feet of the boat. This was as good as it gets, but the winds were steadily increasing and the waves were now threatening to crest. I wondered if we would be able to stay until we finally founda soft spot in the tarpon's armor.
Then ithappened.
I felt the tiniest bump and instinc- tively set the hook. There was nothing there. As I looked at Eddy to see if he had noticed my mistake, something nearly ripped the rod out of my hands. Iswung the rod back and this time felt solid resistance. Following Eddy's instructions, I set the hook two more times and watched in awe as my tar- pon leaped repeatedly while peeling off line at an amazing rate. I asked Eddy if we should give chase, but he shook his head. "No, he'll come back. You're gonna get this one."
I wasn't nearly as calm as Eddy, but I knew the fish was solidly hooked. Tarpon are never easy, but addhigh
seas and strong winds to the equation and you've got a real challenge. After a

series of spectacular leaps and sizzling runs, the fish settled in for a toe-to-toe slugfest. As I purnped it to the surface, the tarpon suddenly leaped high in the air before sounding again. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than 30 rninutes, Eddy slipped the lip gaff into the lower jaw of my first tarpon. r tried to take a few photos before the fish was released, but the pitching boat made the task nearly impossible.

As I put away the camera gear, Eddy said, "I hate to tell you this, but we
gotta go. This just isn 't safe." I knew he was right, but it was tough to leave a place with so many willing tatpon. Entering the river was a breeze.

Eddy rode the waves as effortlessly as a surfer, and rninutes later we were back at the Rain Goddess. My trip was over. I had achieved my goal of land- ing my first large tatpon, but like any fisherman I wanted more. I guess the only solution is to come back another day -hopefully when the weather is a little more cooperative.