When it’s time for a vacation, my wife and I are usually thinking tropics—places like the Bahamas, Belize, or Mexico—where she can enjoy the beach and I can go fishing. It’s a system that works well for us. That said, with two young kids now in the mix, we can’t be as adventurous as we once were. For this trip, the kids would stay with their grandparents, and we agreed on a destination that offered short and easy travel, a great non-angling experience for her, and (most importantly) fantastic saltwater fishing for me.
There are plenty of places that check all those boxes, but with my birthday coming up, I was set on permit fishing to celebrate another year around the sun. I might have been asking for too much, but as it turns out, the perfect destination was ready and waiting.
Isla Blanca
Disclaimer: I’ve never been one for the all-inclusive Cancun vacation. I prefer quieter retreats far from the bustle of mega-tourist cities. But I was willing to take a gamble—and I’m glad I did. Anglers more frequently associate destinations like Ascension Bay or Chetumal Bay for legitimate permit fishing, but after talking with our Mexico Program Director, I knew that there were opportunities to be had with less travel legs.
Isla Blanca is just a 30-minute ride north of the Cancun airport—about as easy as saltwater travel gets after a two-hour flight from Atlanta. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort, which I initially had serious reservations about, but I wanted my wife to be comfortable and relaxed for the week. We settled in, explored the extensive property, and I got organized for my first day fishing with Fin Chasers.
Miguel Encalada, owner of Fin Chasers, picked me up bright and early outside the resort. Miguel is a longtime friend of Yellow Dog, having managed lodge operations in Ascension Bay before moving to Isla Blanca and establishing his own operation. He’s as knowledgeable as anyone when it comes to fly fishing the Yucatán, and now shares that expertise with his son Rafa. A short ten minute ride later we were in the lagoon where guides Danny and Martin waited, the moon still bright above. Rods were rigged, introductions made, and we were off.
Miguel waved from the beach: “Danny doesn’t like permit,” he said, laughing. I turned to Danny and he smiled. “I am crazy about permit," he said--as good an omen as any.
Thirty minutes later, we were scanning for tails and pushing wakes. Within the hour, we found them, hopped out, and stalked on foot. By the time we got a shot, the fish had vanished, but we were energized by the sight of them. Back in the panga, we soon found a massive school working the flat. As a permit tipped up on my fly—a telltale sign of an eat—a blue runner swooped in and grabbed the Pato’s Crab. If you haven’t felt the heartbreak of bycatch stealing your fly seconds before a permit eats, you haven’t known true sorrow.
We kept at it and moved to a white sand beach nearby, hopping out to search for them on foot. If you haven't permit or bonefished on foot, I'd argue there is nothing more thrilling than the primal stalk and hunt of searching for them without the added benefit of a boat. Fifteen minutes in, Danny spotted a few small permit swimming fast and frantic along the edge of the flat. I laid out a roll cast, hoping to intercept them. One fish peeled off, pirouetted, and pinned the fly. Soon Danny was clutching its tail and we were celebrating with high-fives and huge smiles. We chased permit the rest of the day, had a few limited shots, and ended the afternoon by jumping a nice tarpon. As a storm rolled in, we threw on raincoats and headed back to the landing.
Day Two, Danny had a plan. We’d get a tarpon, then a permit, then a bonefish—just like that. Easy, right? Isla Blanca isn’t known for its bonefish, and when you’re chasing a slam, finding one can be tricky. We started the morning casting to rolling tarpon along and within the mangroves. While they were abundant and I hooked several, I couldn’t keep them buttoned. Frustrated, I looked up at clear blue skies.
“Danny, let’s go permit fishing.” The forecast called for clouds and rain the rest of the week—now was the time to make it happen.
As soon as we arrived at the flat, we started getting shots. Danny spotted a wake 150 feet out that was two, maybe three fish, heading straight toward us. I led them by six feet, made one slow strip, and watched two nice permit charge the fly. A few seconds later, we were into backing. Two permit in two days—it felt like a dream.
Spirits were very high on the boat and we joked how it was easier to catch permit than juvenile tarpon. "Palometa? Muy facil. Sabalito? Muy dificil," I said in a distinct gringo dialect. We pushed on and only fifteen minutes later I spotted something. “Is that a big barracuda?” I asked, and both Danny and I realized at the same time: “Permit! Make a cast!” The fish was swimming away from us at quite a distance, so instead of throwing a hail mary, I waited. Sure enough, the permit turned and came back around, swimming freely in two feet of water over white sand: a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one. I laid the same fly out a few feet in front it, stripped twice, and the fish showed immediate interest. “Stop!” Danny said. I killed the fly and it was like flipping a switch in the permit's brain--it tailed up, engulfed the fly, and headed for open water. I could do nothing but bust out laughing as the fish peeled off half of my backing, saying over and over, "That is as good as it gets. That is as good as it gets."
The permit made several runs well into the backing before the moment of truth. Having guided many anglers to many permit over the years, Danny expertly grabbed the permit's tail and we celebrated like we had won the pennant. Two permit in an hour, and three in two days—we laughed, hollered, and I gave Danny a big hug.
Heavy clouds rolled in for the next few days. On Day Three, I fished with Rafa and Ulises. Rafa, Miguel’s son, is a young, hungry guide, and he is most definitely following in his father's footsteps as a passionate and knowledgeable guide/angler. We started on tarpon, quickly finding rollers in a lagoon. In short order, we had three fish to hand, and the bite kept going. By mid-morning, we had landed eight, losing several more. Most shots were between 30–50 feet, with a few pushing 75. While there are areas where newer anglers can catch fish with shorter casts, being able to cast accurately at distance goes a long way in this fishery. We tried for permit later, but a fast-approaching storm sent us racing back in the rain.
For Day Four, we focused on topwater tarpon with gurglers. If you’ve never seen a juvie tarpon blow up on a surface fly before cartwheeling through the air, you need to rearrange your priorities. Rafa mentioned the tarpon don’t always eat gurglers—but they were all in that day. Several times I would cast into the ripples where a fish rolled, make one strip, and the tarpon would annihilate the fly. I only had one gurgler in my box and soon regretted not tying more! I We chased permit that afternoon, had plenty of shots in wind-blown conditions at tailing fish, and while I didn’t connect, I had no complaints with three permit already to hand.
With a rest day planned for Day Five, Miguel, Rafa, and Danny invited me to fish the morning with them. How could I say no? I tried hard to get one of them to take the bow, but they insisted I fish. We hooked a tarpon first thing and Miguel and I snapped a quick photo, "Our first tarpon together!" he exclaimed. Miguel has an infectious personality and good fishing stories for days, so sharing time with him on the boat is a real treat. With a tarpon in hand, Miguel was eager to chase permit. We had a few half-chances but no A+ shots despite banner conditions and a good rising tide. Fishing with them was a great experience, but the highlight was hearing Miguel’s stories of Isla Blanca and tales from his days in Ascension Bay. Danny, it turns out, guided Rafa to his first bonefish in Ascension Bay when he was just seven years old. Now they guide side by side--a current legend and another in the making! Between the three of them, there was a lot of experience and knowledge in the boat, and it was simply a joy to share it with them.
Back at the landing, we hugged it out. Five days on the water including several permit, countless tarpon, and a lot of laughs forges a type of bond that can only be found on the water amongst fellow fisherman. Huge thanks to Miguel, Rafa, Danny, Ulises, and Martin for an unforgettable experience. Until we meet again, hermanos.
Tips for Success & Important Notes
- The team favored variations of rag head crabs for permit tied with yellow and red dumbbell eyes. However, its a good idea to have some other lightly weighted crabs that were useful in shallow conditions.
- Weedguards aren’t required, but they help. Fishing over seagrass or near floating sargassum meant snagging on occasion.
- Yes—I’m going to say it: Practice your cast. You can get away with 30–40 feet, but the longer and more accurate your cast, the more success you'll find, especially with wary tarpon.
- Isla Blanca is a year-round fishery, but timing matters. Juvenile tarpon are always around, though cold fronts can slow them down. Permit generally show up in March and stick around through summer. Late spring and summer are peak for permit, but they’ve been caught as late as November.
- I brought an 8, 9, and 10-weight. Next time, I will bring a 7-weight for the tarpon or stick with the 8-weight. For permit, we rotated between 8 and 9-weights, though the 9 was my go-to.
- In addition to tarpon and permit, I cast to juvenile snook, angelfish, sheepshead, pompano, jacks, and barracuda. Its always good to be ready for anything on the flats!
