Beyond the Caye

Anglers descend on a Belizean paradise to try their luck at bonefish, tarpon and the legendary permit that grace its pristine salt waters

- Miles Malone

"I SAID 11 o'clock, not 10 o'clock" came the anguished admonishment from my guide, Carlos. My cast had struggled ineffectually against the warm onshore breeze and landed behind our targeted fish.

Carlos pushed tetchily on his pole as I drew the line impotently through the pristine water. The group of permit had disappeared now, passing shadows moving purposely from the clear water to the opaque, where the colour merged to sapphire, always fleeting, beyond range and out of reach. We hunted for them again along the sandy flats, the sun hot on my bare feet as I stood at the bow, the line pensively held in my left hand ready, the crab pattern dangling in the Caribbean breeze, an outstretched claw in mimicry as last defence - surely irresistible to these trophy fish. But we could not find them. The drift finished and we sat, at last, unspeaking as Carlos started the engine for home. Our success was his success and our failures shared; he was not ready to talk to us just yet. He turned up his reggaeton (a further defence from having to communicate with us) and soon the now-familiar smell of his cannabis wafted on the air. We skimmed the open, gleaming sea and Carlos worked the boat around sandspits and between storm-broken remnants, finally to an opening in the mangroves leading to a lagoon. Beyond, nestled between the palms, was our home for the week: pastel-coloured cabanas, in wondrous isolation, leeward of Ambergris Caye.