Jackson: Expedition to Cuba catches more than fish
CAYO CRUZ, Cuba - I truly never understood what geopolitics meant to the average person.
Even with my two college degrees I am puzzled by what an economist does to justify a salary and why some politicians keep using the term "geopolitics" as a reason to spend taxpayer money traveling the world.
I never understood why we have agreements with Russia in a space program following years of spending haplessly for cold war rockets and bullets. I also don't have a clue why we allowed China to buy up our national debt while hackers rampage through U.S. proprietary, industrial secrets.
And yet 90-miles south of Florida's Key West sits Cuba, a tiny nation starving for attention and American goods and tourists. The Castro brothers still hold a firm grip on this pseudo-communist island that once played host to Russians and their missiles.
So I traveled to Cuba this year to fly fish and meet some kindhearted souls destined to survive on fish caught by nets as well as hook and line.
I never made it to Havana. I chose to spend my time in-country on a 100-foot motor yacht owned by a sports fishing company, Avalon Cuban Fishing Centers (visit cubanfishingceners.com).
Our group included five fly fishing writers and tackle mavens. Each day we zoomed off to predetermined locations to hunt for always-spooky permit and tarpon, with some bonefish tossed in for good measure.
If you have had the good fortune to experience the azure-like waters of the Caribbean under white puffy clouds and blue sky, that is what it's like to be in Cuban waters with locals always with outstretched arms and smiles. Is it because these gentle folks want us to sing that country's praises and come back soon with pockets stuffed with cash? Perhaps, but not likely.
It's the fishing that will bring many back to roam the endless flats of crystal-clear water. It's the directions, the teachings of a guide, pointing to our left or right when he spots a cruising fish.
Like many fishing guides, those Cuban pros spoke a little English, and they would call out in clock terms where they spotted a dorsal fin or dark shape lazily feeding yards away.
"Cast fast to one o'clock," Jorge shouted. And the fly line zipped its way toward a target I couldn't see.
"Strip, strip faster," he commanded, so as to pique the interest of a decent-sized permit in three feet of water.
No sale this time, but there would be others.
Some time later I hooked a small permit near a stand of mangrove trees. This fish was nowhere near the weight and size of that first one, but it had all the genetic makeup of a real toughie. It was so fast that much of my fly line and backing disappeared in to the shallows. I tightened the drag and finally boated a fish estimated at 6 pounds.
This column is not just about the spectacular fishing we encountered. After weeks of agonizing thought, I'm still bothered by the agony surrounding the political ramifications of trips like this one.
If you've been to places in the Caribbean and swam in the turquoise waters while white, puffy clouds above your head created fantasies shaped like cartoon characters, you'll have a good idea what I've been talking about.
And geopolitics? It's a word tossed at us in college but in reality it is devoid of any real meaning until our politicians finally decide it's OK to go to Cuba and spend some money.
If you're interested in expeditions to Cuba and Belize, contact Adam Marton at fieldworkersclub.com.
• Contact Mike Jackson at angler88@comcast.net, catch his radio show 7-9 a.m. Sundays on WGCO 1590-AM (live-streamed at www.1590WCGO.com) and get more content at www.mikejacksonoutdoors.com.