Cuba has long held a mysterious allure for anglers seeking untouched waters and world-class flats fishing. My recent trip to Cayo Cruz delivered on every expectation; wild landscapes, thrilling catches, and a cultural experience that made it all the more special. Also, I may have embarrassed myself a few times, but hey, that’s part of the fun, right?
The Journey Begins: A Travel Day That Felt Like a Lifetime Movie
On February 21st, I departed from Denver International Airport, bound for Miami. The overnight stay at the Marriott Courtyard was uneventful. No wild bar brawls, no espionage, just a guy immediately straying from his usually regimented diet to “prepare my body for what is to come”, or so I told myself. A juicy bacon cheeseburger and a couple of pints later it was off to bed and trying to sleep with the thoughts of what was to come streaming through my mind like binging Netflix on overload. The next morning, I grabbed the hotel shuttle and met up with the others in our group at the gate. After some light socialization and introductions, we hopped on an American Airlines flight to Camaguey, Cuba. From there, our group took a 2.5 hour bus ride to Cayo Cruz, which gave me just enough time to question all my life choices before being reminded that I was, in fact, about to fly fish in one of the most incredible places on earth.
Day 1: Barracudas, Bonefish, and Doug’s Magic Whiskey
The first day on the water was one for the books. I had a solo day with Captain Raffa and a skiff all to myself. Within hours, I caught my first-ever bonefish, followed by a second while skirting the mangrove edges of a massive flat. If you’ve never caught a bonefish before, imagine trying to hook a greased-up bullet with commitment issues. It’s pure chaos and pure magic. We went way up north to “region 1” so the ride to get there was almost 45 minutes. Not long after, we hit a few of Captain Raffa’s favorite snapper holes and landed several (“yellow”/lane snapper, “red”/mutton snapper, and “black”/Cubera snapper). The little snappers put up an excellent fight for their size. There I was, only hours into my second ever saltwater fly fishing trip and I am 4 new species richer. The day wasn’t over though. On the long ride back while travelling at maximum speed Captain Raffa dumps the throttle and I nearly fall face first to the floor of the skiff as he starts excitedly saying “big tarpon” over and over. He whips the skiff around 180 degrees and motors slowly back in the direction we came from for about 30-40 yards while telling me to get on the bow and get ready. I now have my brand new 11wt Scott Sector with Ross Evolution Salt reel in hand thinking, how do you even catch a tarpon? Turns out to be a massive barracuda, not a tarpon but the same question remains for me. I cast once and strip, not even an indication the fish cares but it isn’t going away either. I cast again and Captain Raffa keeps yelling “strip faster, strip faster”! This time there is at least a short charge towards the needlefish fly, but again it loses interest and continues slowly cruising. One more cast and it’s perfectly placed. This time I use both hands to strip as fast as I possibly can and the reaction is immediate and violent! It takes the fly, I strip set and hold on as it proceeds to take me into my backing with a long initial run. I then proceed to work it closer and closer over the next 10 minutes or so. The fish doesn’t fight, it just resists, and I realize there will be a bruise on my belly where the rod butt is resting. I get it close to the boat and it sees us and begins a series of short runs and jumps. Seeing 5 feet of barracuda jumping is an amazing sight. Finally, I landed the 50-pound barracuda fish that looked like it had been bench-pressing tuna in the offseason. It was both long and thick! I celebrate my amazing victory with a crisp, cold Cristal cervesa and immediately lose myself in the possibilities to come in the week ahead on the ride back.
Back at the hotel, the stories started flowing, along with Doug’s bottle of Green Spot whiskey. There is something special about a person who thinks ahead and appreciates swapping fish stories over a nice glass of whiskey that isn’t even available in the country. Dinner at the local “hibachi steakhouse” featured Cuban lobster, fried rice, giant calamari rings, and fresh vegetables. An indulgent end to an epic day. I was still buzzing from the barracuda battle, or maybe it was the whiskey. Either way, I went to bed feeling like Hemingway (minus the typewriter and the bullfighting).
Day 2: The Long Walk and the Triggerfish That Laughed at Me
Fishing with Vince (aka Junior Boy or JB) and Captain Eddy, we had a slower fishing day, but the scenery and adventure didn’t disappoint. We were on “region 4” which is a great expanse of a flat when the tide is right. We each caught a jack and some snappers, but the highlight was wading a 1.5-mile flat in search of bonefish. Along the way, we spotted some massive Niger triggerfish, which, as it turns out, are as selective as a hipster ordering coffee. No matter what I threw at them, they gave me the aquatic version of an eye-roll and swam away. Classic. I got one cast at a group of three bonefish but fell short and didn’t get another chance. No complaints, today was a day to absorb the epic beauty of Cayo Romano and the incredible flats.
Day 3: Rain, Wind, and an Absurd Amount of Snapper
Mother Nature was in a mood, and she took it out on us. Wind and rain all day. Most boats returned early, but Michael and I, along with Captain Raffa, laughed in the face of terrible conditions (while secretly wondering if we had lost our minds). We each caught around 19 snapper, proving that sometimes, sheer stubbornness is the best fishing tactic. Despite the weather Captain Raffa managed to find relatively calm and quiet locations on the lee side of hills and mangroves. Sure, we got soaked a few times as did the items I put into my rain jacket pockets to keep them dry…note to self, my light-weight Colorado rain shell doesn’t cut it in a tropical downpour. Fortunately, it was warm so no harm done. We returned to the hotel around 3pm to discover we were the last boat to come back and that all of the others had been back for hours due to the weather.
Day 4: Bonefish, Snapper, and a Masterclass in Cigars
Paul and I teamed up with Captain Raffa for an incredible bone fishing session. I managed to upgrade my personal best, but Paul landed some absolute tanks. We also tried blind-casting into deeper channels for jacks, but they were apparently on vacation. On the way back, we stopped for snapper fishing, bringing in 12 that later became the best meal of the trip (see photo at end of blog). That night, Boris, a Cuban cigar expert, gave us a presentation on the art of cigar pairing—because nothing says ‘fancy’ like pretending to know how to properly smoke a fine Cuban cigar. I nodded along like I was an expert, but inside, I was just hoping I didn’t set my eyebrows on fire with the long cedar sticks used to light the cigars. We paired the traditional Cohiba corona (a full bodied cigar) with Cuban rum, chocolate covered almonds, and coffee. Boris was an excellent entertainer and historian. He dubbed Vince “Junior Boy” because he looks like he could be 14 and the nickname appears to be sticking.
Day 5: Permit or Bust
This was the day. The Holy Grail. The day I had dreamed about. Jin and I set out with Captain Nelson to “region 4″ and immediately saw stingrays with permit trailing behind them. I couldn’t actually see the permit myself, mind you. I could only see what looked like digital noise behind the stingrays…hard to describe it. Black lines that twitch and flicker on a background of aquamarine. My first two shots? Absolute disasters but not terrible casts. My first chance I cast too far right on a pretty long cast and spooked the permit off. My second chance, I dropped the fly 3 feet in front of the ray thinking I nailed it, only to again spook the permit off as I strip it in and re-cast. I decide we need a change of karma and ask Jin to take a turn on the bow. It takes another 15-20 minutes or so but we again find a stingray with permit in tow. Jin watches patiently and as the stingray/permit combo cross the 12’oclock position at around 40 feet he casts. He hooks the permit on his first cast. Naturally. I mean, he is the instructor for St. Peter’s Guide School. My turn again. It again takes a bit of time before we spot another opportunity. I take a deep breath, plant my feet, and exhale a long slow breath. I channel all my fly fishing energy, and with only 1 false cast delicately drop my crab pattern right on top of the slow moving stingray’s back and BOOM! I see the digital noise morph into a permit moving at warp 9 as it arcs over the top of the ray and eats the fly! I strip set the hook into a beautiful permit and it makes a run for the horizon. The fight was everything I imagined, and when I finally landed it, I half-expected a marching band to appear. Truly an epic moment for my fly fishing. Later, we walked the same flat but the tide had been going out and the now 6-8” deep water was teeming with tailing bonefish. We catch a few before calling it a day. I also got a lesson on casting directly into the wind from Captain Nelson. I was admittedly struggling with the 15-20 mph wind on this flat and it cost me a massive tally of bonefish because the opportunities were all but endless this day. That night, I spent two hours trying (and failing) to land a tarpon from the marina docks. I could see and hear them jumping and rolling in the darkness. Their massive bodies shining in the moonlight. I even put my flies right in front of them several times, but they weren’t interested. I could practically hear them laughing at me as my willpower to bag the Slam dwindled into the night breeze. The Slam here is a bonefish, permit, and a tarpon all on the same day. 2 out of 3 isn’t bad amigos.
Day 6: Bonefish, Cuban Bands, and Saying Goodbye
For the last day, Paul and I fished with Captain Papine, who had a very different approach. Sticking to the middle of the flats with his skiff rather than hugging the mangroves. It was an interesting change of pace, and while we lost more bonefish than we landed, I learned a ton about spotting them at a distance. On one opportunity my line was completely FUBAR and knotted behind when a bonefish took my fly. It shot towards the mangroves like a missle until the bird’s nest of line was yanked through my first 3 guides stopping violently on the fourth causing the loop on the fly to break. It could have been much worse on my gear and I consider myself fortunate even though that was likely the biggest bonefish of the trip for me. Easy come, easy go. Back at the hotel, a 7-piece Cuban band played while I attempted to determine the size of the beer taps keg in glass sized increments and swapped fish stories. As people loosened up dancing ensued with the hotel staff and it became an actual party. It was the perfect farewell to an unforgettable week.
Final Thoughts: Cuba, You Have My Heart (And My Permit Obsession)
As we packed up and made our way back to Camaguey for the flight home, I couldn’t help but reflect. Cayo Cruz had delivered some of the best fly fishing of my life, so far. I caught my first bonefish, a monster barracuda, and a permit that will live rent-free in my memory forever. The camaraderie, the culture, some of the food, it was next-level.
This trip wasn’t just about fishing, it was about adventure, the people (like Chef “Hot Dog”), and the ridiculous moments that made it one for the books. Cuba, I’ll be back. And next time, I’m bringing extra chartreuse Clouser flies, a more refined ability to cast into the wind, and maybe,just maybe, a little more luck with those tarpon.
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