Fly FIshing in Costa Rica: Tractor Fishing

*"lookin for adventure, and whatever comes our way" was what today was all about. There turned out to be 3 of us today, as I added Joey from Kayak Fishing Magazine to the troupe of would be adventurers. With fly rods and beer in the cooler, I left our house at 5:30 this morning and picked up Joey, continuing on for Russ. We then back tracked to the local bakery, with the intention of picking up some coffee, pastry, and a sandwich for lunch. Well, sometimes the best laid plans don't materialize, as in today. Nothing was ready at the bakery, so we had coffee and waited. 20 minutes later we finally got on the road.

Right away I knew things could get sticky when I missed the turn off the highway, but I recouped in enough time to only go a few minutes out of our way. For the next hour and a half, we climbed into the mountains and passed through very rural and agricultural pueblos, as we asked along the way for "Flaco's house"! And everyone seemed to know who we were taking about, and they all agreed on one other thing; we needed to make a right at the cemetery. Hmmm, if we could just find that cemetery!

We did go the "round about"way, having to turn around a few times and retrace our tracks, but in the end of course, we did find it, and not too long after, we found "the house of Flaco", he in his rocker outside, smiling and waiting for us. After a few minutes of pleasantries, our talk turned to the subject of the day, fishing. Flaco explained that my car would not be able to make it to the river, and right away I am thinking this day is going to be a bummer. I think Flaco sensed my apprehension, because he started smiling and explained that he planned on taking us to the river; in his tractor. Pura Vida! His big ol Massey Ferguson was parked next to his house with an attached trailer, and he proceeded to fire it up!

Flaco was the "captain"

And so Joey. Russ, and I threw all our gear into the cart and hopped in. It was quite a scene, as Flaco took us across the river, then down stream. We zig zagged through the water, jungle vegetation, and back to the river. There were of course no seats; just a few old slippery plantain skins from a previous harvest. We had to hold on to the sides, as we bounced along the river bank. For the next 4 hours we fished, moved on, and fished some more. We traveled many kilometers down river, and each time we moved , we hopped into the trailer and were "driven" to our next location. Sure, you've heard of float fishing a river, well, how could you call this anything else but "tractor fishing!".

And it was an awesome day on the river. Toucans laughed and sang to us while we fished . They seemed to know more than they were giving up. A few times we encountered colorful scarlet macaws and blue morph butterflies also came by to see what we were up to. We were fishing light tackle 5wt rods, and small streamers, trying to imitate small silver-like minnows, which the locals used for bait.

We met friends of Flaco along the way; fishermen friends. They studied our flies and made suggestions. They kept telling us that there were snook, but we did not spot any They also showed us their catch, 3 smaller fish of unknown name, not snook, but respectable by any fisherman's standards.

Flaco with friends, talking "fish"

movin' up stream

No, we didn't catch anything. Joey reported a few "hits", but no fish. Of course every fisherman had the same advice; we needed to fish at first light and last light of the day, not mid day. So now I am thinking a camping trip. We'd go to the river and set up camp; an easy concept since Flaco could haul it all in for us. Then we could fish the late afternoon, sleep over, fish the morning and then return home; unless of course the fishing was so good we needed to stay a second night. Sounds like a plan