Beyond Belief in Belize: The Wild True Tale of a Bucket-list Tropical Adventure

At the Rip

Saltwater fishing often follows a fiendishly addictive pattern psychologists call “intermittent reinforcement.” It’s like playing a slot machine, where a taste of success keeps you going in hopes of a big payout. After several days of intermittent rewards, we got our payout at “the rip”—a gap between two islands, where the outgoing tide created a brisk current.

Pedro anchored the panga and for an hour, Phil and I lobbed flies into the clear, sluicing water, catching a fish on almost every cast: horse-eye jacks (above), ‘cudas (below), blue runners and more.

They weren’t big, but they were strong enough put a bend in my saltwater rod. It was pure fun, like catching a mess of rock bass as a kid. While pulling in one especially frisky jack, I was thinking about taking a break to dangle my feet in the water, when the struggling fish was engulfed by a massive barracuda, easily four feet long. The beast stayed on the line for 15 or 20 seconds, then sliced through my 40-pound wire leader. And I kept my feet in the boat.