One of the many things I love about the sport of big-game fishing is that just when you think there is no other new place to fish, you discover some hidden gem. While chatting with the crew of Gear Up, a 66-foot Sculley, over several rum drinks at a tournament in Costa Rica, we started to talk about the places we'd fished and the ones we wanted to visit. Panama - where the Pacific fishery is the lore of legends - kept coming up. Then Capt. Jon Hopkins asked me about the Caribbean side of the country. Having worked extensively in and out of Panama for nine years with the Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission, I was embarrassed to admit that I didn't know jack about the Caribbean coast. I had always heard that the San Blas Islands were stunningly beautiful, but that's about all I knew. The owner of Gear Up, Ralph Senner, chimed in that he would be taking the boat through the Panama Canal to fish the Caribbean circuit the following spring, and he wanted to put together a family vacation for a little R & R prior to undergoing the rigors of tournament fishing. Just like that, the decision was made to cruise through the San Blas Islands, check out the fishery and set aside time to relax before taking off on the long, arduous journey that lay ahead.
I mentioned that I knew a local who could possibly open a few doors and potentially point out some fishy spots. That's all it took to secure my invitation to join the family and crew for the exploratory fishing trip to this little-known island group just a few hours from the Caribbean entrance to the Panama Canal. My connection, Jim Wiese, is a Canal Zone American who knows Panamanian waters extremely well, and not just the ones near his Cebaco Bay mothership operation in the Pacific Coiba Island region. Having known Wiese for more than 15 years, I can say that he always shoots me straight when it comes to fishing recognizance.
According to Wiese, the San Blas Islands can be hit or miss, but he also called the area his "secret spot," where he goes when he wants a change of pace and venue. You can find blue and white marlin in good numbers when the tuna are abundant, and anglers can catch Atlantic sailfish just about any time of year. Wiese loves to target wahoo, and he was quick to mention that these speed demons are more plentiful and consistent in the San Blas Islands than in the Pacific. He also targets yellowfin and blackfin along the drop-offs, and crews can hunt down dolphin and huge barracuda almost everywhere. With such a full range of game fish to choose from, the Gear Up crew started putting a plan into action.
We left the docks near the port of Colón and within three hours, we were dropping the hook in a surreal island environment; a hush fell over the crew as we came tight to the anchor. Someone finally broke the silence, and we unanimously agreed that none of us had ever seen such an island paradise.
The San Blas Islands consist of nearly 400 tropical islands, and only 49 are inhabited. Each island we cruised by resembled a set from Gilligan's Island - an oasis hardly touched by human hands. We saw hundreds of spots that would make perfect backdrops for a Corona commercial.
On the horizon sat dozens of low-lying islands cast in a mysterious layer of a late afternoon haze that made them seem both inviting and unreachable at the same time. Our enthusiasm was further enhanced with a visit from some locals in their dugout wooden canoes. As they approached, I started to wonder if they had come to harass us or tell us to move. Not at all - they came with canoes full of fresh lobster for sale and baskets of colorful local garb called "molas," hand-sewn by the Kuna Indian women.
That night we pored over the navigation charts, plotting the data we got from Wiese and formulating a fishing plan for the morning. The group of islands provided a textbook study in how to find offshore-fishing spots. The islands are adjacent to steep underwater walls, which are covered with pinnacles and sheer drops that scream "fish here!"
With a flip of the coin, we decided to make our first run to an area called Holandes Cay. Wiese had mentioned the area, but also informed us that May was really not the peak season. The trip was an experiment to begin with, so we had nothing to lose. We found wahoo and barracuda everywhere, as one would expect when fishing near such a profound offshore site. Then a few dolphins came in and rang the dinner bell.
