Thursday morn, and go figure, but there is a very brisk breeze a-blowin'! Wind in Cuba... an enduring theme :-) I gather that a typical pattern is windy in the mornings, calmer in the afternoons, and in fact that is the way things unfold today. Once again, despite the zephyr, the sun is shining bright. We do a bit of walkin' and wadin' on a Bonefish beach, along with Hugh and his guide Yonger, as well as Larry and Scott and their guide Bemba. As per expectations, we see plenty 'o Bones, and catch our fair share. As Hugh says over Cuba Libres at day's end: "I kinda lost count after one" :-). Then it's time to put on the rain gear, and head west to Boca Grande to see what the Sabalo are up to. Once again, Pedrito stakes out a position, and we watch and wait. Just as Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" pops up on the Ipod (shuffle mode), a pair of Tarpon hove in to view. My somewhat feeble cast lands a bit shorter than I had intended, but the Tarpon see the fly... I swear that the lead fish is only about two rod lengths from the boat when he inhales the black and blue concoction, and the predictable mayhem beaks loose. Pedrito later estimates this particular fish at seventy pounds; it looks to me to be about five and a half feet long. There are the usual spectacular thrashing leaps, and an initial run that takes me way deep into the backing. After fifteen minutes or so, I am getting the fish somewhat close to the boat, although it still generally is going where it wants, when the fish inexplicably comes undone, and it swims seemingly calmly away. Ah well... such is Tarpon fishing. There are some nice fish landed today --- Hugh gets a couple, estimating the larger at one hundred pounds, and Tony lands an eighty pounder after an hour long battle. Jimmie gets herself a nice thirty five pounder. Shaun breaks TWO Orvis Zero gravity rods (an eight weight and a ten weight) on Tarpon at the Lobster Hole! (Shaun, Brett, and Tony go out for some night fishing last evening... sounds kind of intriguing... basically trolling bait, to good effect, apparently). Pedrito and I move back closer to camp for the late afternoon, and I get one more shot at a pair of Tarpon, but they don't eat my offering. It's lobster for supper tonite (done up a couple of different ways), with some kind of fish as well. The meals have generally been pretty darned good, and Suly and Amarylis are attentive hosts. The Ironside boys head out for some more night fishing tonight. I have about enough energy only to have a nightcap rum and coke, and book it. The consensus among those who have fished here before is that the weather has been about the worst that they've seen. John comments that their best day this trip was not as good as their worst day last trip (in April). From my perspective, all I've got to compare to is my previous expedition on the north coast, and quite frankly my worst day here was better than my best day there. Everything is relative, no? "I shall return!"

Postscript: The return trip was a long one. We leave the Tortuga at 12:30 p.m. for the three hour boat ride back to Jucaro, through some fairly rough seas. Then it's a two hour bus ride to the airport at Cayo Coco, followed by a three and a half hour wait, and a three hour flight to Toronto, where we eventually arrive at 1:00 a.m.. Get to the Sheraton at the Toronto airport only to find that they've lost my reservation. Mike, Hugh, Larry and Scott have all decided to just hang out at the Airport (if they had reservations, they had cancelled, and the hotel had already used the rooms); some of them are on the 6:50 a.m. Calgary flight, and the rest of us are able to change from our scheduled 8:00 a.m. flight to the earlier one; we hang out at the coffee shop most of the night and shoot the shit. The flight to Calgary is quite bumpy due to turbulence, but all's well that ends well and I'm home in Red Deer by 11:30 a.m. local time on March 24, 2007.