50 years of experience, one bonefish
Percy Darville’s low-key voice pushed through the breeze and through the layers of my sun hoodie and my Buff. The fish were coming at me, he explained as he turned the flats boat to accommodate my right-handed cast.
“See ‘em?” he asked calmly. “They’re about 200 feet away, but they’re moving.”
I looked out over the blonde sand flat as it edged into a mangrove creek. I have a pretty solid fish-eye for a land-locked flats angler, but it took me a few seconds to dial in what Percy was seeing. And when I did, the fish — a school of about a dozen — were within range for a cast.
“Put it about 10 feet in front of them,” Percy said, as if he were instructing the office intern to make a stack of collated copies. I loaded my rod and made the cast. The Gotcha plopped down in the path of the cruising fish, and within seconds, my line was tight.
That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? And with a guide like Percy, that’s how it generally goes. But what I and most visiting flats anglers fail to realize is that we’re just experiencing a little slice of what makes an encounter with a bonefish so special under the tutelage of a guide like Percy in a place like the Berry Islands in the Bahamas.
I really love to fish the flats. It’s become a low-grade obsession — an itch I have to scratch more and more frequently. And I was late to the game. I didn’t chase my first bonefish until I was in my early 40s. I didn’t catch a permit until I was in my mid-40s. Same with tarpon. But at every turn, even when I’ve gone the “DIY route,” I’ve depended on the knowledge shared with me by others. As much fun as it is to fish the flats, I’d never have developed a passion for it if it weren't for good people like Percy.
The Berry Islands are the best-kept secret in the Bahamas, both for the massive schools of bonefish that wander the flats, but even more so for the numbers of permit being reported cruising the flats, following rays and sharks and generally turning up when they’re least expected. And how many fishing lodges are on the Berrys? One — Soul Fly Lodge. And, yes, lodge operators Kyle and Kitri Schaefer were smart enough to make Percy their first call when they started getting the lodge ready for its first season welcoming guests.
And if the islands are still a secret honey-hole for flats fishing, then Percy Darville is guardian of those secrets. He’s been guiding out of Great Harbor Cay for 50 years. It’s his knowledge and experience on that little spit of sand that made it possible for me to connect with that perfect 5-pound bonefish that day on the flats. My encounter took maybe 10 minutes from when Percy spotted the fish to the release. But it’s Percy’s understanding of everything from the tides on his home island to how the weather might play into the day’s fishing to how the flats might have changed just a bit in the wake of the last named storm. It’s his wisdom that led to my catch.
Imagine that. Fifty years. For Percy, it’s his life’s work. Another day at the office. We are the interns. And learning from someone like Percy … that’s just priceless.
Want to fish with Percy?
Berry Islands
Soul Fly Lodge
Every flats angler knows about the bonefish of the Bahamas that cruise the white sand flats from Abaco and Andros to the far-flung family islands of Exuma and Mayaguana. But permit fishing can be a hit-and-miss proposition in the Bahamas — certainly, some cays and islands are home to bigger populations than others. But, the little-known stretch of reefs and cays known as the Berry Islands — home to one single fly fishing lodge — is emerging as the permit destination in the Caribbean.