You’ve all heard of it. Now get a good look at why Los Suenos ranks supreme in Central American billfishing

It was easy committing to a trip to Costa Rica back in November, but now that the time had come and our imminent departure was approaching, we all felt a bit of guilt and apprehension about leaving our busy lives. However, we quickly got over it….

West End, beyond comparison!

Maybe I should kick this thing off by describing the breathtaking view from the hammock overlooking the vast expanse of the Little Bahama Bank. Or maybe I should just talk about the hypnotic turquoise water and coral sandy beaches. Then again, I could just describe the elegant charm that filled our eyes everywhere we glanced.

Where Prehistoric Silver Kings Reign Supreme

My brother, Drew, ducked under my fly rod as we passed each other down the side of the painted gunwale. We were both drenched by the spray from his 100 pound tarpon as it somersaulted beside the boat for the fourth time. While Drew expertly manhandled his fish on a conventional rig- I on the other hand was armed with nothing more than a 12-weight and still had at least 250 yards of backing between me and my triple-digit trophy.

Every now and again I get a request to photograph a unique location or an exotic adventure. The call I received in September 2006 was one such opportunity. A friend of a friend was interested in hiring me to travel to the other side of the globe to shoot an advertising campaign. As with most such requests, I anxiously took the phone while noticing the stern look on my wife’s face who was obviously listening to the conversation. It was the same look that any husband and father know all too well. A look that says, “Don’t even think about leaving me with this house and kids for two weeks!” But traveling is part of my job, so travel I did.

Varied, plentiful, pleasing fishing that’s close at hand.

As we poled around the corner of a creek, we came upon a triangular sand flat bordered by two channels that ran out to sea. The skiff eased along, and Art Blank spotted tailing bonefish 50 feet away in the “three o’clock� position. Simultaneously, I spotted a pair of huge bar jacks slowly swimming away from us dead ahead. After checking with the guide about the hardness of the flat, Art slipped overboard into two feet of water to stalk the bones. I repositioned to the bow of the skiff as the guide poled hard in pursuit of the hefty jacks.

It was deep in the middle of a star-studded night. The only sounds that could be heard were the collective whooshing rattles of coconut palm leaves in the Caribbean sea breeze.