The Niles Star

Larry Lyons: The other Bahamas

Thanks to all of you passing on your concerns about the recent lack of this column. I was merely on my annual junket to the Bahamas to thaw out frozen blood and ensure the bonefish retain their fisherman avoidance skills.

Most people’s perception of the Bahamas is cruise ships, endless rows of small, neon-lit shops and towering, extravagant casinos all bustling with throngs of gringos in gaudy, pastel print shirts and white pants. True, that is Nassau and other such tourist hubs. But there is another Bahamas, the real Bahamas, generically termed the Out Islands. This is the Bahamas I’ve come to love and which beckons me back every year.

Life on the sparsely populated Out Islands is as laid back as it gets in today’s world. The few outsiders that do visit pretty much have one agenda: fishing for the silver ghost, the bonefish, for which the Bahamas are renowned. Bonefish aren’t big, averaging only a couple of pounds with a 10-pounder being a true trophy, but they strip an unbelievable amount of line from a fly rod faster than most any fish that swims.

You don’t really fish for bonefish, you hunt them, which is the whole attraction. They incessantly cruise shallow sand or marl flats in search of shrimp and crabs. You aren’t just blindly casting with hope.  Here, in gin clear water less than knee deep, you stalk the quarry using utmost stealth. At the slightest splash or thump the ultra spooky bonefish flees in sheer panic. After a fish is spotted and stalked within range, accurately casting a fly in the incessant, gale force Trade Winds borders on impossible. Bonefishing is one of the most challenging of all sports.

The Bahamas is a string of islands stretching 550 miles starting east of Florida extending south almost to Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Technically there are 29 islands, 661 smaller pieces of land called cays (pronounced “keys”) and a couple thousand lesser bumps protruding from the water simply termed rocks. Only 30 of the 690 islands and cays are inhabited. The total population of the Bahamas is a bit over 300,000 with over 200,000 of them residing in and around Nassau.

Obviously, overcrowding on the other 29 islands is a non issue. In fact, most of the populated Out Islands barely offer the basic necessities of life. My adopted island, despite being a spacious 320-square-miles, only has a smattering of tiny settlements, a few gas stations, a couple combination grocery-hardware stores, and the occasional basic restaurant or roadside jerk pork stand where you can also get a cold beer — Kalik, please.

Originally, most of the islands and cays were shaded by tropical hardwood forests. However, after Columbus and his gang moved in (he actually discovered the Bahamas, not North America) followed by the Spaniards, the forests were cleared for agriculture, lumber and charcoal. Today, the Out Island trees are entirely gone and the parched, dusty landscape is covered with vast expanses of impenetrable, head high scrub brush. Only very rarely do you see a taller coconut palm or Australian pine, both introduced much later.  It is not the pretty, tropical scenery one might expect.

Not only were the trees stripped from the Bahamas, so were the 30,000 native Lucayan residents. Within just 30 years after Columbus’ arrival in 1492, the Spaniards had enslaved every single Lucayan and took them to Hispaniola, now Haiti, and the Dominican Republic. For 130 years the Bahamas were completely uninhabited. Later, an English company in Bermuda repopulated the islands with “troublesome slaves, free negroes and Bermudan natives.”

The only remaining native mammals are bats and hutias, an uncommon, 1- to 2-foot-long rodent. The predominant animals today are feral cats and goats. There are, of course, land crabs and several lizard species. Pygmy boas, which look like garter snakes, are very common. There are a variety of birds but quite limited by our standards and only a few butterfly species.

The Bahamian Out Islands may not be a tropical paradise and few relish the remote, Spartan existence but for those of us infected by the bonefish bug they are pure heaven.

Carpe diem.

Larry Lyons writes a weekly outdoor column for Leader Publications. He can be reached at larry@lyonsgunworks.com