The trip of a lifetime at Tropic Star Lodge!
It was a cold mid-December night when I got the call from Mike Caruso at The Fisherman letting me know that I had won second place in the Dream Boat Challenge and would be going to Panama for a six-day fishing vacation at Tropic Star Lodge. At first I thought it sounded too far and that maybe I couldn’t make the trip. Mike reassured me, “This is marlin fishing, big game fishing and the trip isn’t until March, you’ve got time.”
Come March, I found myself on a plane to Miami where I would board a plane headed to Panama City. As I walked into the airport in Panama a friendly face greeted me, holding a sign that read, “Tropic Star Lodge”. “I’m here to escort you through customs and take you to your hotel where you’ll await your flight to Pinas Bay,” the man said.
From Albrook Marcos Airport, we take off in a small plane over the Panama Canal and head south to Tropic Star. The lodge is nestled in the Darien Jungle that lines Pinas Bay, within close proximity to Zane Gray Reef. The 55-minute flight takes us over miles of rainforest and many tropical islands and then we buzz over Tropic Star Lodge and position to land on their private airstrip. The next step is to board the pangas that will ferry us across to Tropic Star.
An Incredible Start
At 6:30 a.m. we were among the fleet of Bertrams racing 6 miles out to the reef to catch bonito for bait. Bridled bonito on three Shimano 50’s paired to custom rods are quickly trolling on the reef and before 8 a.m., I’m hooked up to my first black marlin, what followed was an acrobatic show from a 350-pound billfish, that was unforgettable. This was the first encounter with these powerful speedsters that would repeat on my four days fishing aboard the Miss Australia.
After a long, drawn out battle, with Capt. Condello expertly maneuvering the boat, we finally leadered the fish. It was at this point we were asked by a sister boat, which was nearby filming the fight, to pass the rod with the fish to them. On this boat were Guy Harvey and Bill Boyce, as well as members of a Scientific Research Team. Guy dove in for photos and placed a SAT TAG in the fish, one of only two implanted in a black marlin which would track its movement for up to a year.
After handing it back, we resumed fishing 8 to 10 miles west of the Zane Gray Reef in another marlin hotspot. This time, high-speed trolling plastics looking for fish to come into the spread. I was comfy in the air conditioned cabin, having a drink recouping from the long fight when two rods went off! I grabbed one of the rods getting spooled down to the backing, and strap into the fighting chair while the mate holding the other rod is yelling “El Azul”, signifying that we were hooked up to blue marlin!
Capt. Condello began backing down hard while I reeled, trying to gain line. About 10 or 15 minutes later, I stopped hearing the mates drag and realize he lost it. We were down to one fish; mine took to the air, showing its real strength and agility. The fish jumped and violently slammed its whole body sideways, slashing back and forth with its bill. The line went slack several times during these tenuous moments, and then the fish dove deep on a long, hard run. The captain and I were doing all we could to stay tight to the fish, but the fish finally spit the hook!
Next, the center line went off. The second fish to come to leader was a 100-pound class Pacific sailfish. After a hard fight, some aerial acrobatics and photos we released the fish – green – to fight another day. Same plan, same place… we were back on the troll. I took advantage of the break in the action to hand out some sandwiches and have a drink. Then, the center line went off again, tossing my food to the side, I strapped in for the battle, the fish was peeling line and leaping violently. The captain backed down hard as we attempted to collect the line, the large blue marlin leaped in signature fashion, this marlin would cement my first billfish grand slam, a true fishing accomplishment.
A Change Of Plans
The day one success was undeniable, so on day two we went out with the same game plan, headed for Zane Grey Reef. Then it was lines in, trolling the reef, looking for El Negro. Suddenly the captain yelled, “Reel! We’re not fast enough!” The bait came back cut in half! Pacific porpoises were on the reef; these mammals have learned to steal hooked baits by cutting them off behind the hook. Fishing would be impossible with the porpoises in the area, so we made a move, first to the Ten Mile Grounds, then inshore to try for bottom species, we were struggling.
The previous day the captain mentioned a reef 32 miles south on the Columbian border. With waves building and no marlin bites, I ask Condello to go to Columbia. After a few looks from him and some hype from me and a confused stare from the mate, we were off. South wind up, waves building in a head sea, the Bertram would show its chops. In the cool cabin I would enjoy a long ride dreaming about roosterfish, grouper and cubera all to myself. All the while looking out the window staring at the peaks of the jungle mountain skyline through the sea-spray.
When we arrived, I dropped a jig on the reef while the mate dropped cut bait. Condello kept us locked on the right spot, but after an hour, we still had zero bites. This would cement the fact that inshore fishing had not yet materialized and any more attempts would be futile. Over the radio we were hearing reports that boats were catching marlin on the grounds. Wind to our backs, we steamed all the way back to Zane Grey. Upon arrival, we saw a Bertram hooked up to a large black marlin, we deployed baits and began to troll. Unable to raise a marlin of our own we made another move back to the Ten Mile Grounds and 20 minutes later, we hooked and landed a large Pacific sail.
As the seas began to build and become confused under a stiff south wind, I asked the captain to make a deep offshore run, to look for yellowfin, and to my surprise, he agreed. The ambient temperature was well above 90 degrees, even 15 miles further offshore. We set bonito out to troll and about an hour later we got the bite that, I believed, we were looking for. I yelled to El Jaffa, “Tuna! Tuna! We got them!” I was certain this fish was not a marlin from the speed and the steady depth the fish was running at, the line was absolutely smoking off the reel. Jaffa expertly spun the boat and pointed the bow toward the fish attempting to catch up.
I was reeling as fast as I could to gain line, and after some maneuvering we had the fish where we wanted it, or perhaps where he wanted us. Line off the stern in the corner with the fish deep; it was in this position that I felt those telltale head shakes of a very large tuna. Well over an hour into the fight, the massive yellowfin comes to the surface, only to dive deep again where the line was severed by a school of rays.
It was late night in my villa quarters when I reflected on my day. Stepping out through the sliding doors onto the large porch in the heat of the jungle, I will never forget the first time I heard the growl of the howler monkey. In my villa – perched high in the treetops – I would unwind and take in the view of the ocean with the fleet of boats moored under the moonlight, listening to the jungle bats flash by. It’s a wonder, six nights and not one mosquito bite a truly mind-numbing experience.
Redemption
Day three, a day of redemption. I’m committed to get back what I lost. I‘ve become accustomed to this ritual. We left the dock 6:30 a.m., making bait fast and shortly after we’re trolling the reef. Fast forward a few minutes and we have a black marlin hooked up and the line is screaming! With a few days’ experience, I knew the dance and grabbed the rod. High leaps off the stern, angry fish… I knew I had to follow the line. I was more patient, I knew it wasn’t the time to let the line come tight, as it could break. After a series of leaps toward and away from boat, the large marlin changed tactics and dove deep. Now it was time to increase the pressure.
With the rod pressed against the gunnel, I tried to pull up, but the fish was smoking line and I couldn’t safely add drag. I held on and let it dive, the fish swam effortlessly, as if it wasn’t even hooked. Finally, a stop and a shift… the fish swam straight at me and Condello immediately recognized the angle and spun the boat 180 degrees. Following the fish we backed down hard, gaining line. I was reeling fast, trying to catch up, we were gaining on her now and the fish was coming up.
Suddenly, she stopped, followed by an immediate deep dive; this meant we had to do it all over again! Frustrated, I settled in and calmed myself down by reminding myself that this is what I was here for: the tough fights! Inch by inch I reeled, and Jaffa maneuvered the boat perfectly under the backdrop the jungle. Finally, the 400-pound-class black marlin was leadered and released.
El Azul
I can only imagine the number of fish below the surface, slashing like a horror flick, in this Pacifico abyss. El Jaffa entices the fish by turning starboard, stalling and skipping the baits sideways, a move I would see him execute to perfection many times, even in a crowd of boats. This time we were alone, all eyes on us. Then, the Amarillo boat gets jolted by a violent strike which creates immediate chaos on deck. A bite with reckless abandon, almost like the fish is daring us, but now the players know the positions on the board and the chess match begins. In the fighting chair, the line is peeling so fast I feel heat radiating off the reel. Only a handful of fish can do this to a 50 Shimano.
I’m confident that none of the knots will part. It’s now I appreciate the crew I wave to every morning in a well-lit room near the dock; re-spooling reels, testing drags, servicing gear. As the Dacron backing starts to show, the line runs port, Condello points the bow at the fish and pins the throttle. The marlin performs a series of leaps as I reel to gain line, Jaffa stops and spins the boat. The fish goes into a deep dive and the spool screams again but Condello reverses hard to control the line. With the rod to the gunnel and the line straight up and down I asked the captain to bump forward and turn.
Stuck in a stalemate I increase the drag well past strike, Condello moves the boat to angle the line away from the stern and turns, the marlin began to ascend, gaining line, El Azul broke the surface with an explosive series of leaps. Condello makes aggressive boat maneuvers to manage the slack, without correct boat handling most of these fish would be lost! Finally, the massive blue marlin is leadered and released. Hours go by with many Pacific sails released, after which we decide to make a crucial move 15 miles further offshore.
Super Slam!
It isn’t long before the rod goes off, with the line melting off the spool at a torrid pace, typically a marlin would have shown itself with an aerial assault by now. The steady, hard pressure could only mean one thing: big tuna. Capt. Condello backed down on the fish, trying to help me put some line back on the reel. I strap in and do my best to cover the backing that is beginning to show on the spool.
El Jaffa punched the throttle in an attempt to get on top of the fish. The line angle changes and we begin to make slow progress… with every lift of the rod, I gain an extra turn. On this 90-plus degree day with the sun beating down, it becomes apparent I’m at a disadvantage as the fish only gets stronger and faster as it dives deeper into the oxygen-rich water. It was smart to gain line when we had the chance, because we were quickly back into the Dacron! In this position it’s easy to make the foolish mistake of increasing drag, but I just hold on and hope the pressure of the decreasing diameter of the spool and the captain bumping the boat in and out of gear will be enough.
Condello circled the fish hoping to disorient it and raise it to the surface. As if a prayer was answered, the fish charged to the surface, reeling as fast I could, we finally got a look at the giant Allison tuna in big wave. And after some maneuvering, we had her gaffed at the stern.
This tuna was the fourth and final piece to complete my super Grand Slam. The last fishing day would be a very productive with many sailfish released, a 500-plus pound blue marlin lost after an aerial show and others leadered. No black marlin, but still an amazing day as the sun sets in the Jungle.
Tropic Star Lodge has been operating for 62 years and in that time they have perfected the game and created a seamless experience, from the time you book your trip the crew makes it easy, your only task is booking a plane to Panama City everything else is handled. Hotel accommodations and VIP pick up service to everything in between is handle by Tropic Star and it’s an amazing angling experience.
