Our first day of fishing was Monday, so all five boats left the friendly confines of Boca Chica’s giant estuary and headed offshore at 7:00 AM. While we headed for the Hannibal Bank in search of yellowfin tuna boils, barge captain Jaime started making his long 10-hr commute bringing the 78′ mothership out to Coiba Island where we would spend the rest of our week. This is of course one of the major perks of staying on the mothership as opposed to a traditional fishing lodge in Panama: instead of having to make the long 50-mile runs each day we’d be just a short 10-15 mile run from the fishing grounds. This gives us an extra 1.5-2 hrs of fishing each day, which anyone would prefer over running to and from the fishing spots.

Shea, Ryan and I headed out with Pesca Panama mainstays, Tomas and ChiChi. We were hoping that the yellowfin tuna and dorado action would be a fraction as good as what we saw in 2019 with multiple boils every single day of the week, but unfortunately we were dealt a different hand of cards this trip. While it was sunny and warm in the coastal town of Boca Chica where we started our day, as soon as we were 40 miles offshore the sky turned steel gray. Fresh off the heels of the season’s first tropical storm the week before, the normally calm Pacific was agitated with 5-6 ft seas and a steady 10 mph west wind. We started fishing just a few miles west of Coiba Island, but the storm system was so intense we couldn’t even see it at times. “Oh boy.” I thought. “Maybe we picked the wrong week…“

It didn’t take long for us to find a pod of dolphins and birds, but you could tell that we missed the best action because the dolphins were swimming leisurely and the birds were sitting on the water as if they all just overindulged at the breakfast buffet. Captain Tomas could mark a giant school of tuna at about 100 ft, but after about an hour of waiting for them to come up we decided to investigate the various current lines in the area. Full of garbage and branches from the storms a week earlier, it looked like prime conditions for dorado or even wahoo. That never materialized either, so we decided to head over to Coiba Island, find a nice protected cove and have our lunch.

After our first night at Coiba Island, everyone woke up on Tuesday ready to get after it and see if this place really lived up to the hype. I woke up at 5 AM with the crew, but I stayed in bed until 6:30 AM because I knew no one was going to head out fishing in the middle of the giant thunderstorm that was sitting right on top of us.  It was gray for as far as you could see, and the rain was constant. Eventually we all made it to breakfast and began to stare at the horizon as if trying to will a break from the storm. That never happened, but by 8:00 AM we had all gotten too squirrely sitting around and decided to brave the elements and do what we came to do – FISH. “It’s tropical rain, who cares?“, “I brought rain gear for a reason.” and  “I fish in the rain all the time, doesn’t bother me.” – were all comments I heard. Meanwhile I thought again to myself, “Oh boy…Maybe we picked the wrong week…“

With the conditions the way they were, there was no way we could fish the west side of the island like we normally do. Shea, Ryan and I headed off to make bait at a few high points on the north side, and fortunately the baitfish were all over our sabiki rigs to take our mind off the incessant rain. We quickly filled the livewell when Tomas told us to start fishing jigs because he was marking good fish on these rock piles. Ryan was the first to get bit as he released a good sized jack crevalle. The next fish woke us all up as Shea got hit hard and had his rod in a full arch. Fifteen minutes later he boated a nice 30 lb amberjack, another PB for him. A few more jacks and we were off to the next spot, one I had been looking forward to for a long time.

Coiba Island is the largest island in Central America at over 194 sq miles. It has numerous rivers on it, which I’ve always been intrigued to explore as I know that the fish in there have rarely, if ever, seen humans. High tide was at 11 AM that day so it was perfect timing for Captain Tomas to expertly navigate our 27′ Ocean Master up into the river and lay eyes on primary rainforest and a mangrove system that perhaps only the islands’ former prisoners have ever seen. We switched to light tackle and started casting Yo Zuri crystal minnows, and on my fourth cast to the edge of the mangroves my lure was hammered. Whatever it was, most likely a big snapper, straightened one of the treble hooks and got away. It was still raining on us, but we didn’t care as we were blown away by the crystal clear water, incredible rainforest, and seemingly endless pockets and coves to cast into. We finally dialed in the right lures to catch a few small mangrove snapper, which in reality was our main target here. Ryan also managed to surprise everyone by catching a nice African pompano slow trolling a rapala on our way out of the mangroves.

We left the mangroves before the outgoing tide trapped us, and Tomas took us to yet another reef that he knew. We chucked poppers and Mag Darters for an hour, then finally decided to stop for lunch and a well earned beer. As we did that, the mate Chichi seized the opportunity of an open bow and started casting a popper. On his second cast a massive roosterfish left a big hole right behind his popper but missed the hooks, then a second time, before finally hitting the mark on the third bite. We could see a second roosterfish swimming with it so I jumped up and cast my Mag Darter, and almost instantly it crushed the lure. This one was just as big as the first one, but unfortunately the leader broke as it took me and my screaming drag over the rock pile. Shea meanwhile battled his trophy rooster to the boat, revived and released it. So much for a lunch break.

On Wednesday we awoke to something we hadn’t seen all week – clear skies and sunshine. After an 80 fish day and now sunshine on Wednesday morning, it looked like things were finally starting to align for us. This morning we headed north to fish Islas Canales, which was a new spot for me. In all my time spent at Coiba Island, I’ve never fished in a spot where you could actually see the mainland. Granted it was still 20+ miles away, but it still somehow felt a little less exotic knowing that the mainland was actually in sight from the very northern region of the national park. Tomas wanted to try for cuberas in a new spot that the other boats didn’t fish the day before, so we spent the first hour of the day speed trolling Yo Zuri crystal minnows to hook up eight bonitos. Since Shea already caught a nice cubera on Monday, he let Ryan and I take the main spots at the stern and slow troll some very fresh and feisty live bonitos. We were in about 95 ft of water trolling over a rock pile, and Tomas was marking fish, so I felt good about our chances. A few moments later I got a big bite, let it take my bait for five seconds, then set the drag. “Missed it!” – I yelled. “Drop it back again! Leave it!” – yelled Tomas. My bait was alive but clearly not in good shape, so I could only hope whatever it was would come back to finish the job. It did, and I didn’t miss it a second time as my rod bent and the real screamed. Both Tomas and ChiChi let out some whoops, so they knew it was a good fish. I could too as my arms quickly started to burn as it was a battle for position as this fish swam down to get back to the rocks and I pulled up trying to keep him out of there. I started winning the battle, and in this rare patch of perfect blue water it wasn’t long before we saw that classic burnt orange color – Cubera, and a good one!  I got it close to the boat and Chichi was ready with the net, which barely fit the head and dorsal fins of this beast. Back in 2019 I caught my personal best cubera with Shea & Ryan, but this one had that one beat by ten pounds easy. Tomas guessed it was 60-65 pounds, so it was a clear personal best for me and a heckuva way to start our day.

Safely released, I needed a breather (and a celebratory beer) so Shea & Ryan dropped down fresh live baits. Shortly after that we just missed a BIG bite from another monster cubera. It T-boned our live bonito and nearly bit it in half, but sadly it missed the hook. I’ve never seen anything do that to a 4 lb bonito, so that was a heckuva fish that we just missed. Moments later Shea hooked into another nice cubera in the 20-25 lb range, photographed and released it. Ho hum. In 2019 his goal of the trip was to catch ONE cubera snapper, which he did, but now apparently he has grown accustomed to catching so many of them in Panama they don’t excite him like they used to… After catching two more white tip sharks, it was 10 AM so we decided to change spots and go fish the west side of the island, which is where we fish the majority of the time when the weather cooperates.

Thursday was our day to head back to the giant mangrove of Boca Chica where we would spend our final night on the mothership. Most weeks this is used as an offshore day to target billfish, dorado, and tuna. Apart from a few hours in bad conditions on Monday, no one really spent any time chasing tuna this week due to the west wind and waves. It was sunny again today and the seas were slightly calmer, but not by much. Tomas said that the commercial boats were catching tuna about six miles west of Isla Montuosa the day before, so Shea, Ryan and I decided to head offshore and look for them because that was the one thing we didn’t really have for his show yet. Unfortunately that meant a plodding, 25-mile run west – right into the strong wind & waves that had battered us all week. About halfway there Ryan started to lose his breakfast and Shea was asking what other options we had, but halfway between Isla Coiba and Isla Montousa, some 55 miles offshore, the only option really was to keep going. Close to Isla Montuosa we found a FAD set up by the long liners, and that served as a much needed break from the waves as we caught 20+ blue runners there on sabiki rigs to fill our livewell. Captain Navas met us there, but we left him and ran the final eight miles to where the commercial boats and Captain Hebert were saying the magic word – “lavadora”.

‘Lavadora’ in Spanish means ‘washing machine’, but in this setting it means a frenzied ball of yellowfin tuna feeding at the surface. It was the beautiful chaos that we were waiting for all week – diving birds, hundreds of spinner dolphins, and yellowfin tuna leaping out of the water. I made one cast with a giant 8″ popper, and on my second cast it was destroyed by what looked like an 80+ lb tuna. I was fishing on a Shimano Stella with 60lb braid and it ran nonstop for about 45 seconds. Shea was next to me with the camera, letting me know in this chaotic moment that if it didn’t stop I was going to get spooled. He wasn’t joking, I was running out of line fast and had no way of stopping this thing, then POOF – nothing. The tuna on the other end of my line had ran so far it crossed the long line set out by the commercial fishermen and snapped the leader. I lost a heckuva fish, but if I’m honest I was only 50/50 mad about that because it for sure would have taken me at least 45 minutes to get that monster to the boat.