Bahamas Out Island News

Once upon a time, my father used to take me trout fishing. This involved sitting on a muddy river bank, watching a pole in the water, yawning with boredom. And rain-lots of cold, wet rain, which the fish were supposed to love.

So it came as no surprise that I was apprehensive when my husband, Lawrence, proposed a bonefishing trip to the Bahamas. I had moved to New York City and married a New Yorker-a man who listens to NPR. The closest relationship I have with fish now is eating laxon a bagel for breakfast. Who knew that, all these years, my husband had been harboring a secret yearning to hunt and gather?

I did a little research and found that, luckily, bonefish, a relative of tarpon, enjoy the same things as couples looking for a romantic getaway. We're talking stretches of iridescent blue water, deserted beaches, and enough sun to give a dirty blond natural highlights in under an hour. The more I read, the more I was sold on the Bahamas' South Andros island and I was willing to give fishing another chance.

Our first day on Andros kicked off with a high-speed boat ride across smooth water, on a quest for the elusive bonefish.

“Are you surprised about Andros?” asked our guide, Ornald Greene, as he took the boat into a mangrove-rimmed estuary. Who wouldn't be? This long, undeveloped island southwest of Nassau is so pristine, it looks like it belongs in the South Pacific, not 200 miles off the coast of Miami. There wasn't another person or boat anywhere on the horizon-it was our own private, sunny paradise.

We hopped out of the boat, our toes in the white sand, the shallows as warm as bath water. And that's where the real fun started. Step one was picking out a bonefish. Yes, there are so many fish and the water is so clear that you actually get to point to the one you want to catch.

Step two, the tricky part, is getting your fly to the fishin other words, casting. I'm not going to lie to you. Did I get tangled up in fishing line? Yes. When I tried to cast from the boat, did I actually fall off? Yes. (Fortunately, the water \vas only two feet deep, and getting wet was worth the laugh.) After an hour of practicing, I managed to land the fly near an incoming bonefish. Bam. My line sizzled through the water; the fish went streaking off. I started screaming, while Ornald and Lawrence hushed me: "They can hear you!" The fish was miles away. I jerked my rod up (not hearing Ornald yell "Don't jerk your rod up!") and the fish broke off. But me? I was hooked. Bonefishing is like a video game-no boredom, all excitement.

After a full day-including stingray and barracuda sightings-we headed back to our hotel, the Tiamo Resort. We were hoarse, tanned, and ready for rum punch. There, at the bar, sat two other bonefish-loving couples, one of which was getting married the next morning: We toasted to fish. We toasted to love. And then, with the adrenaline zapped from our systems, we toddled back to our bungalow for a pre-dinner nap and a private view of the sunset-a ball of fire at the end of the world.

DO IT YOURSELF: The all-bungalow Tiamo retreat on South Andros Island bills itself as an eco-resort. And though it is admirably green (solar power, recycling) the place feels more like a private-island hotel than an environmental enclave. It's also a fine place to snorkel and hide from the world. Full-day fishing trips cost $400 per couple. Doubles from $570 (low season), including all meals and some activities; 800-504-1794; tiamoresorts.com