by Dan Simmons
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(Above: Carlos, Costa Rica Tarpon)
Enough of the Christmas clothes, ties and sock, I’m thinking of gifting a fishing trip south, away from the cold, and catching big fish in Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua or Guatemala. It’s the perfect gift for someone special. I’ll be glad to join them.
My friend Carlos Logamasino had a had a remarkable experience on the Caribbean side of Central America. During a snowstorm in Alaska Carlos thought of fishing for Tarpon and within the week he had booked a trip to Costa Rica. He was excited to leave the cold and head for the warmer climate. He packed and headed south.
After several flights, he landed in San Jose and spent the night at a beautiful hotel where a van picked him up for the transport to the lodge. His native born guide Manolo was raised in the area and boy could he fish. He took him out to the mouth of the river into the ocean with an open skiff and outboard, then instructed him how to fish for Tarpon and soon maneuvered the boat to where the Frigate birds were circling high above, then as they descended to feed, he would say “get ready.” At that moment the surface would explode with bait fish and tarpon jumping out of the water on all sides of the boat. You could not miss; every cast hooked a 50 to 80 pound tarpon, one after the other, he unhooked and they had another one on. This went on for hours with little rest until he was hungry, dehydrated and exhausted, it was time to go in for an excellent lodge supper, an appropriate drink and stories of the day.
His recalling this trip brought back memories of one of my favorite fishing adventures. It all began in the small fishing village of San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, an easy four-hour flight from Atlanta, Georgia. I was there to visit friends, get caught up on some writing, and of course relax a little bit with a rod in my hand while dragging some metal and rubber through warm, blue Pacific, waters.
I was fishing with my good friend, Jorge Aguilar, out of the Gran Oceano Hotel and we were picking up some nice Dorado (Mahi Mahi), rooster fish, and jacks, as was our usual routine. Also, as usual we were dragging a couple of heavier lines hoping for a nice sailfish or marlin.
As happens occasionally while fishing, fortune smiles. The outside line was hit, took off like we had hooked a freight train, causing us all to “jump to,” grab the rod and frantically bring in the other lines. It ran for what seemed forever, pulling the 80-pound test line from the reel. Then Jorge told me quietly “Hit him. Hit him.” I could feel the solid connection to the train and I set the hook again, and again. At this point we knew it was a big marlin as it headed for the depths, unlike a sailfish which will stay closer to the surface and fly.
From this point and for the next two and a half hours it was a matter of holding on. I would gain some line as the skipper said “Reel, reel, he’s coming up.” or “He’s coming around.” My arms were aching, numb, and heavy all at the same time; they felt as if they were just mechanical rope-like extensions of my body attached to the rod, and to the beast who was clearly getting the best part of the fight.
He would take line at such speed and duration that the reel would get hot to the touch and Jorge would douse it with buckets of sea water, cool it down and keep the line from melting. This was a first for me, as were the impromptu dousing I received.
For the next hours the sun beat down, slowly cooking all on board. The dousings of fresh seawater mixed with the pouring of sweat from my reddening forehead, but it all seemed to dry quickly as if poured on a hot stone.
Jorge assured me the fish was tiring and we were gaining on him, but I was not entirely convinced as my arms alternately screamed and went numb. All I could do was hold on and reel frantically when told to do so, letting the rod and reel’s drag system do their job. My thoughts went to Hemingway’s “Old Man and the Sea” and the movie version where Spencer Tracy is talking to the fish, striking it when it seemed immovable lying in the deep. “Take that, and that,” I said as if inventing the words. I found myself thinking of whole passages from the novel and uttering some as if they were my own, realizing once again, Hemmingway got it right.
I’m not sure if it was the marlin’s getting tired or its curiosity, but twice it came to the surface and circled toward us. It would then dive deep, putting the line straight over the side and make a long run, stealing the line I had so painfully gained. I waited, reeled, ached and sweated some more as Jorge poured more seawater on the reel, and on me.
After two and a half hours, which seemed a very long time (I was told to expect a four hour fight) the fish came up and around; it seemed I could now gain on him and bring him closer. As he came on the surface all hands prepared to bring him aboard as he came closer and closer and we could see his size and mass, and then he made one more dive for the bottom and we heard the unmistakable, “snap” and the line went slack as the rod straightened. I sat back and didn’t move. All was silent as I heard myself saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay, we had him.” He was released, but not as I had planned.
The old timers on board then began recounting the fight and getting excited at this largest marlin of the season. Measuring his length, compared to the length of the boat, they estimated he was 17 ½ feet long and weighed 450 pounds. Not Hemingway’s 1,000 pounder, but the biggest fish I’ve ever caught and the beginnings of a new passion for marlin and sail fishing. So, in this case, the fish and I were both lucky.
This story is still being told around the Hotel Gran Oceano, along with many others, The story continues this New Year with plans to return to those warm winter days with rod and reel in hand and friends. May you also enjoy new adventures and a prosperous New Year.
For more information on fishing with Gran Oceano, go to https://www.hotelgranoceano.com/
“A New Year’s Gift and New Adventures” first appeared in the Las Vegas Review Journal’s Pahrump Valley Times