Crocodile
Bay Captains:
Secrets of the Pros
Bob
Newman
Among the better captains in Central America are those of
the newest lodge in Costa Rica, Crocodile
Bay Lodge on the Golfo Dulce ("Sweet Gulf"),
which is located on the Pacific coast just north of Panama.
I've had the good fortune to fish with and be taught by dozens
of captains and guides around the world, so I can recognize
a professional when I see one. In the spring of 2000 I had
the opportunity to fish with two of Crocodile Bay Lodge's
top inshore guides, Capt. Bill Joliker and Capt. Jon West.
It didn't take but a few minutes with each captain to realize
I was dealing with pros.
Fanaticism Is A Good Thing
Bill Joliker had a thriving business and had it all going
for him. That's when he realized he wasn't getting enough
fishing time, so he sold the business and all the equipment
that went with it and moved to Costa Rica to become a full-time
charter captain. Some call him a kook, others a nut, but I
call him a fanatic, which is a term wrongfully disdained in
my book. After all, many people call Marines fanatics, but
I was a Marine for 20 years and loved it. Anyone who would
chuck the whole thing just to go fishing more often is all
right in my book.
Fanaticism tends to enable one to focus more clearly and thoroughly
on the task at hand, which explains why Bill knows so much
about fishing. When he arrived at Crocodile
Bay Lodge, he already knew a lot about fish and fishing
in general, but he knew that he had to spend a lot of time
on the water of the Golfo Dulce and pay very close attention
to what was happening on and in that water if he wanted to
be known as a good captain. So he did it.
Bill began by learning the entire Gulf and its many intricacies,
which are governed by tide, barometric pressure, water temperature,
season, wind, rain, sun, lunar cycles, forage availability,
habitat and structure, the habits of species and about 467
other factors. Soon he was able to accurately judge where
certain game fish would be at a certain time and what they
would likely feed upon. He experimented with assorted tackle
and learned what worked and what didn't. By the time I showed
up on the scene, Bill was ready and waiting.
The first thing I noticed was the condition of his flats
boat (it was spotless and everything had its place). He
stowed my rods and other tackle and then asked me what I wanted
to catch. I replied that I was interested in trevally, roosterfish,
jacks, snook and the like (inshore fish). He nodded, spun
the boat around, smoothly pushed the throttle forward, and
five minutes later I was tied into a 5-pound snapper on my
fly rod. The next 45 minutes brought me several more fish,
including bigeye trevally, jacks, a mackerel and a small grouper.
I blew the snook that hit.
We decided to head across the gulf to check a spot where Bill
had seen some African pompano a few days before. We caught
a few roosters and jacks, but the pompano were nowhere to
be seen. At 11:00AM we noticed a large, nasty black cloud
moving in very quickly from the highlands across the gulf.
The water beneath it was being whipped into a white frenzy.
The shoreline behind us was all rock with nowhere to get the
boat ashore, so Bill made the right call and pointed the boat
into the fracas. We put our life jackets on, battened down
the hatches, and approached the beast head on.
Thirty minutes later we stepped onto the lodge's dock, soaked
but no worse for where. Bill's boat-handling skills, years
on the water and good judgment brought that flats boat and
its occupants home safe and sound.
After the squall passed, we went back out and caught a bunch
of fish. I fished with Bill three more times in the next 10
days and each time we found a variety of gamefish under varying
conditions, primarily because Bill worked with the conditions
rather than against them. He adapted, which is the mark of
any master angler.
Big Jon
"Big Jon" West is a well-known captain and fishing
writer along Florida's southwest coast, where he is respected
for his tarpon, snook, spotted seatrout and redfish knowledge.
But Jon isn't one to rest on his laurels, so a couple of years
ago he decided to transplant himself for part of the year
into Costa Rica. With his reputation, he quickly landed at
Crocodile Bay Lodge.
The first thing Big Jon and I decided to look for were some
big snapper. I figured Jon would know a thing or two about
snapper because he is from Florida, where snapper are a very
popular game fish, and I wasn't to be disappointed.
The live well was already full of victims, so we headed over
toward the Pavones Break, which is one of the largest surf
breaks in the world. About a mile before the break, Jon pulled
back on the throttle of the Champion bay boat and began studying
his sonar, which quickly showed a hump on the bottom in about
80 feet of water. We maneuvered up current from it and dropped
two lively baits down to see if anyone was home.
I had just hit bottom and reeled up a few turns when I felt
my line go suddenly slack. Thirty-some-odd years of snapper
and other bottom fishing told me that something had come up
from beneath my sardine and grabbed it, causing the slack
line. I cranked the reel handle as I pointed the tip of the
rod at the water and tightened up on the fish.
Knowing that the snapper at the other end could be a big cubera,
I aggressively worked the fish for the first minute and got
it away from the hump, where I was sure plenty of rocks waited
to cut the line. I had gotten back about 40 feet of line when
everything changed for the worse.
I figured I had the fish beat and had become overconfident,
which resulted in my becoming less aggressive after I got
that 40 feet of line back. Whatever it was down there (and
it was surely some sort of big snapper) it sensed this and
took advantage of my momentary lapse, which Jon had caught
at the same moment.
"Keep reeling, Bob! Crank! Crank!" he commanded,
but it was too late. The fish ripped 50 feet of line from
the reel in about five seconds and was gone. I reeled up a
cut line.
"Yeah, Bob, these fish have got to be treated with respect
all the time," Jon said as he fired up the motor. "You
can't give them a break, ever."
"Are we moving to another spot?" I asked.
"Yeah. Once a big snapper breaks off on a spot, he goes
back into his hole and makes a lot of noise, which scares
all the other fish around there. We'll hit another spot down
a ways."
Disgusted with myself, I took note of how Jon handled my blowing
that fish. He didn't get mad or yell or scowl. He just told
me what the deal was. He knew that I knew that he knew I had
blown that fish, and there was nothing to be gained by whining.
Live and learn.
Since we were so close to the surf at Pavones, Jon thought
we should try some roosters before we hit the next snapper
hole. A huge awash rock looked promising, and I watched as
Jon rigged two goggle-eyes and sent them back into the wake.
No sooner had we set the rods in the holders and begun to
slow troll our offerings when massive boils appeared behind
each bait, announcing the arrival of two big roosters. Jon
could see that each fish had missed its mark, as roosters
so often do the first time they attack a fish, so he kept
the boat moving at the same speed. A few seconds later, both
fish had circled around and were again on the attack, this
time finding their respective marks.
I lifted one rod from the holder as Jon lifted the other.
We each free-spooled our reel so that the roosters could get
the baits well into their mouths. Without talking, we waited
until we thought the time was right, put our reels in gear,
and tightened up (we were using circle hooks, which don't
require you to "set" the hook).
Both reels screamed in protest. I had been watching Jon out
of the corner of my eye as he hooked his rooster. He had done
it all without looking astern; he had hooked the fish by feel
and experience. Now how was he going to maneuver the boat
in a surf zone filled with rocks while fighting a fish and
making sure I was always in position to best fight my fish?
I am not really sure how, but he did. In fact, he got his
25-pound rooster into the boat and had released it before
mine was anywhere near the boat. A couple of minutes later
mine was aboard, pictures were taken, and the 30-pound fish
released.
The remainder of the day was spent catching several very nice
yellow snapper, which we kept for dinner, and 10 gorgeous
roosters. (Crocodile Bay's master chef did the snapper in
garlic butter. They were superb.)
Good captains are cut from a special piece of cloth, and Crocodile
Bay Lodge's are among the very best. I'm heading back down
in April for some more lessons. One can never know enough
about fishing, and learning from the experts is one way to
become a better angler.
Crocodile
Bay Captains: Secrets of the Pros
Crocodile Rock - Trophy Costa
Rican Sailfish Tactics
Boaters.com: Raving Roosterfish
in Costa Rica
Boaters.com Magazine: Dueling
with Dorado
Boaters.com Magazine:
Coo-Coo for Crevalle Jacks
Boaters.com Magazine: Working
surface structure to find more fish
Sport Fishing Magazine: Costa Rica
Sport Fishing Magazine:
Costa Rica Revisited
Sport Fishing Magazine: Outstanding
Osa
Orvis Travel: Costa Rica's Crocodile
Bay Lodge
