Don’t you love a good story? I do. I come from a long line of storytellers. This story is as true as it gets, and it’s one of the best stories I can remember.

First, I need to tell you about this good pal of mine. His name is Rodney Jones, and he comes from Owensboro, Kentucky. As of August 2020, he had not caught many bonefish, but Rodney is one hell of a versatile sportsman as well as a natural poet. You can read an incredible poem he wrote about our maritime camp up in Canada on our website, Deepwoodlodge.com. This poem was featured in the Ruffed Grouse Society magazine back in 2016.

So, I’m the old dude with the expertise with the bonefish, and my pal Rod had recently moved to West Palm Beach with his sweetheart. West Palm Beach is only about 200 miles from our retreat at Bone Ami. I suggested Rod (who had caught only one bonefish at this time) join me in Abaco when the conditions were perfect, and we would go wading!

I had gotten to Bone Ami near the end of May, staying there for almost three months.

Here’s how the story unfolds. I had been studying the tide charts for weeks as we talked about an ideal time for Rod to come. I picked the weekend of August 7, 8, and 9 because we had a low tide around four or five o’clock in the afternoon on those dates. This timing looked perfect! Catching bonefish is no accident and requires a lot of tactical planning.

Rod arrived, and we struck out on the eighth to one of my favorite flats, just at the entryway to the community called Cherokee Sound. We had borrowed a 14-foot aluminum boat with its little Mercury 12 HP motor from my good pal down the beach, Chad Effinger. I affectionately referred to him as “Middle Finger.” Our plan was to catch the “bones” as they came across the shallow flat, showing their tails. I had figured everything as best I could, utilizing my 35 years of experience in chasing these glorious fish!

I knew exactly when the tide would start to flow over that flat, and we were in a perfect place around 4:30 PM. Within minutes, I saw tailing fish, and within an hour Rodney had caught bonefish numbers two, three, and four.

Shortly thereafter, I caught a flash of sunlight reflecting off a bonefish tail at about what I estimated to be 200 yards. I told Rod to look. He couldn’t see it. Then again, it flashed, and he still didn’t see it. He didn’t believe me that I could see anything at that distance.

It may have been 10 or 15 minutes before that little flash became much bigger. Then there they were: three big bones. One of them, the largest (I didn’t know that at the time), was almost on me before he took the “Bonefish Bitters” fly into his big mouth. My fly tippet was literally inside the tip of my rod as he took.

Miraculously, his initial hard run did not break me off as the leader came screaming out of the guides, taking me into my backing in a few seconds. It was a wonderful fight lasting more than 30 minutes with several fast runs. I knew the fish was big, but I didn’t know how big until I had him at my side. He was 34 inches long and, in my estimate, about 14 pounds. He was my largest catch in the last 20 years. My largest ever was on a June morning around six o’clock in 1999. That fish was also 14 pounds and was caught within about a half mile of our Abaco waterfront retreat, Bone Ami.

Rod and I had a great time, and it was one of my most gratifying experiences as an angler because we were completely self-guided. We went to the place we thought there would be fish, and we were right! Now my pal Rodney thinks I’m the Bonefish Whisperer, and my eyesight is something akin to Superman’s. That’s not true, but it’s amazing what a man can do when he has passion!