Kodachrome Moments in Panama
You can watch all of the National Geographic you want, binge on YouTube, and read every nature magazine in existence, but it’s never quite the same as being there. We’re fortunate in this era to be able to capture our trips with still and video photography like never before – we don’t need to worry about running out of film or things getting wet – but even then, the benefit of travel is imbibing those experiences with all five senses. Until you’ve watched a lion dissect a cape buffalo from close-up in the searing heat, or stood in front of the Coliseum in Rome, or had bears traipse past you while you’ve fished at Brooks Falls, you’ve only lived part of the experience.
That’s why Panama was so enlightening for me, even the second time around. The resources of the Gulf of Chiriquí were on full display and I drank them in. In particular, I remember four experiences that were so vibrant and so visceral that no picture or words can capture how they made me feel at the time. Oddly enough, all four of them had elements that I’d enjoyed before, but in this case they stood out
Sails Raised
Through two trips and a total of six days fishing at Casa Vieja Lodge, we’ve landed 81 sailfish and seen quite a few more. They come up in the spread before they bite and then they leap when hooked, so all in all it’s a very visual experience. To see one all lit up at boatside is amazing. Despite those experiences, though, we saw something in Panama that we hadn’t seen before – a sailfish, seemingly by itself, just wandering around on the surface, sail raised. We idled over to the sail and pitched baits at him, but he was skittish and would just scoot away. I thought that he’d dive down and we’d lose him, but we followed for a while and that never happened. Obviously, we would have liked to have caught the fish, but in many ways this was more enjoyable than a cookie-cutter sailfish bite.
Mahi Magnificence
On our last day of fishing we came across what appeared to be a pallet, but was actually a man-made Fish Aggregating Device (FAD) floating on the surface. It wasn’t particularly large, but it did its job, attracting an entire ecosystem below. Samantha Sukupcak pitched a bait to it and almost immediately hooked up with a big mahi. Meanwhile, Mike and I stood on the front deck casting poppers and swimbaits trying to replicate her success. We both lost fish that made sky-high jumps and spit our lure. Meanwhile we also landed a few sharks. Cooler than the fishing was just watching what was going on underneath – the multi-colored baitfish swimming around, the occasional predator coming into view, and particularly the occasional pair of mahi mahi. They’re a gorgeous fish when hooked, and briefly when they make it onto the deck, but these fish were all lit up. You could see glowing blues and greens and yellows, with their fins tipped in neon lights. Even though I’ve caught a bunch of mahi before, I desperately wanted to land one, and eventually did, but I’ll never forget those glowing mahi just circling the pallets, ready to strike.
Marine Mammal Mash-Up
We’ve seen dolphins and porpoises on the water before, even close to home. While fishing on the California Delta I also saw sea lions, but I’ve never been in a situation where the marine mammals were so integral to the fishing process. Whether it was finding a group of spinner dolphins that were corralling the yellowfin or simply watching them zigzagging in front of the boat as we jetted off to the next spot, they are remarkable. On this trip, a lot of the tuna were right behind the commercial fishing boats that we were also following. I don’t know how they get so close to them, or how they avoided our lures. The major sonar companies could take some lessons there.
Compact Car Parking Only
By now you may have seen pictures of the 205-pound yellowfin that Mike, Samantha and I triple teamed into submission. Actually, the fish wore our asses out and the only reason we beat him was quality equipment, help from the captain, and the fact that there were three of us. The fish is huge lying next to us, and tasted wonderful, but what I’ll always remember is the first glimpse of its entirety up by the side of the boat, looking like we were parked next to a floating Volkswagen Bug. I know that they catch 800+ bluefins up in places like Prince Edward Island, and I simply cannot imagine their mass.
Conclusion
When I was younger, I was so focused on catching fish that I ignored these types of special experiences. In fact, I might have made pejorative comments about people who counted birds or admired a sunset. In recent years, however, I’ve become better at noticing and appreciating them. Every time out is something different. That’s why we do it and if you love it like I do then your brain is full of similar memories – no photographic evidence necessary.
