Sport Fishing Magazine - Hot Spots
Outstanding Osa
Jason Cannon
"I’ll bet you’ve never fished water 600 feet deep from a flats skiff,” Capt. Todd Staley said as we cruised the Golfo Dulce (“Sweet Gulf”), a 30-by-14-mile bay located in the southwest corner of Costa Rica.
As we planed alongside the peninsula, we gazed in awe at the surrounding mountains and rain forests that seemed to drop into the bay like candle wax melting onto a table. Moments later we arrived at Rio Esquinas (famous for filming of the movie, Congo) near the innermost corner of the gulf, where Staley positioned the 17-foot skiff in just 4 feet of water. We idled along an edge that plummeted to about 100 feet in only 20 horizontal yards. Staley stuck in my hands a 14-pound baitcasting outfit, baited with a live blue runner. “Feed out about 100 yards of line. Leave the reel in free-spool and hold the spool with your thumb,” he said. “When you get a hit, let it take line for a few seconds, then set the hook.”
As we trolled the drop-off, I wondered what monster fish lay at the bottom of the drop, waiting for a baitfish to move into range. Could it be a prized snook? Locals are rumored to have pulled in 60-pound robalo on handlines while wading these river mouths. What about the dagger-toothed cubera snapper (pargo)? Cuberas sit at the bottom, waiting to suck down unlucky baits and drag them mercilessly into the rocks. Or the black-and-silver-barred roosterfish?
It didn’t take long to find out before something slammed my blue runner within minutes. I counted to five, engaged the reel and set the hook. The fish nearly yanked me out of the boat as I stumbled around the console to the transom.
As I watched the line leave the reel slowly and steadily, I had my doubts that the fish, which hadn’t jumped, would turn out to be a snook. It didn’t take me into the rocks or hang on the bottom, so the pargo was out. That left either a monster Pacific jack crevalle or roosterfish.
It surged 50 or 100 yards, then rested at the surface as I gained back line. After about 10 minutes, we finally spotted the fish about 50 yards from the boat.
The long streamers of its dorsal spines and the huge striped shoulders gave away its identity. “That’s a big fish!” Staley said. Commonly found along the surf and outside beaches of Central America, large roosters like this also frequent the Golfo Dulce river mouths.
After nearly an hour, I coaxed the nice rooster boat-side. I posed for a few pictures, and as we released it, I realized why roosterfish fight like seasoned warriors. Their long, wide bodies with broad backs combined with a wide, forked tail allow them the ultimate leverage when push comes to shove.phing sailfish, I would also like to see if my wife can score a women's world record cubera snapper on a fly rod.
Roosters, Cuberas and Snook — Oh My!
Ten minutes after releasing the big rooster, we spotted a reef on the depth sounder paralleling a yellow-sand beach. As soon as the machine located fish, we broke out the tackle. Staley’s preferred gear: Shimano Calcutta 250s with 10-pound Triple Fish mono and 400s with 14-pound on medium-action Calcutta rods.
Nothing turns on a rooster like live bait. Greenbacks prove effective, but hungry roosters find a hand-size blue runner irresistible. Staley prefers short-shank 2/0 or 3/0 bronze live-bait hooks for this catch-and-release fishery. Circle hooks would also work well.
“I used to watch larger fish inhale the bait, and the bigger hooks went down with those baits,” says Staley. “A small hook will catch the corner of the mouth almost every time.”
Pargo present another common nearshore target. Residing along reefs and rocky outcroppings, their fire-truck-red bodies and jagged-toothed smirk seem to complement a flare for picking (and winning) fights. At a particular volcanic-rock upwelling a few hundred yards offshore from Matapalo (the southwestern tip of the Osa Peninsula), cuberas hide out like an army lying in ambush. These fish range from 20 to 80-plus pounds, according to a few guides who’ve dived the spot. Anglers fishing with Staley have yet to win the tug-of-war with any fish more than 53 pounds before getting broken off in the rocks. If you wanted to break the 78-pound, 12-ounce all-tackle record, this is the spot to try.
To have a ghost of a chance at pulling one up, you’ve got to start with stout gear. Staley prefers Shimano TLD50s spooled with 80-pound mono and extra-heavy TLD rods. A live blue runner will entice cuberas out of their holes. But the rest is up to the angler. I quickly learned how menacing these beasts can be. Staley and a Costa Rican native guide, Luis Rodriguez, tried to demonstrate as Staley explained proper technique.
“Reel, reel, don’t stop!” Staley said as he watched Rodriguez get taken once again into the rocks. “When you feel the line tighten, reel like crazy or you’ll end up like that (hung on the rocks). Don’t worry about setting the hook because by the time the line stretches, that fish will beat you.”
I would have never tried after that display had I not seen photos of previous successful outings. So I decided to go for it. Time and time again, I felt the line tighten, then reeled and got nothing but rocks and spit hooks. Believe it or not, four different anglers combined to go 0-for-20 on snapper that day. The only hopeful moment came as my wife, Lori, pulled a nice fish to the top, and after congratulating her, we saw the striped body of a 35-pound roosterfish. Bruised and battered from the combination of 6- to 8-foot swells and tough fishing, I wished we had 100-pound superbraid to help tame the larger cuberas.
Guides from our host resort, the Crocodile Bay Lodge, have just begun exploring the nearshore and estuary fishing around the Osa Peninsula. The mangrove-lined river mouths look particularly inviting for snook, one of the world’s most glamorous inshore species. Locals have caught record-size fish for years on hand lines in the mouths of several rivers here, according to Staley, but for the most part these fish have not shown themselves in great numbers. One explanation could be that the snook bite depends on a particular season, and the guides haven’t fished that time of year yet (they’ve fished here only since last summer).
I decided to endure Costa Rica’s rainy season to explore a new fishery last August, although we’d been forewarned of the soggy conditions. The opportunity to reel in a smorgasbord of prized inshore, nearshore and offshore species couldn’t wait. Fortunately, my gamble paid off.