2:21 am: I awake in a start. Opening my eyes, I sit up and take in my surroundings. It’s the middle of the night and I’m in my bed at Soul Fly Lodge. What woke me, I wonder? Half-asleep, a vision reappears: the permit I casted at yesterday. I was reliving the shot in a dream and awoke just as my fly hit the water. I sigh and close my eyes.

5:50 am: My phone alarm goes off. Instinctively, I tap the snooze button and lie back down but I’m wide awake. I start my mental inventory of gear, most of which is already in my pack: tippet, fly boxes, pliers, sunscreen, a fresh Buff. I want to tie a few leaders and change my formula slightly from yesterday, so envision the lengths of leader material that I’ll knot together…

5:59 am: The phone alarm goes off again. I turn it off, get out of bed, and walk to the glass door of my room. I immediately look to the palm trees that surround the patio and I try to gauge how much breeze ruffles their leaves. They barely shimmer in the pre-dawn light, an indication of another calm morning on the water.

6:20 am: I walk out of my room, cross the deck next to the pool and step into the dining room, beelining for the fresh pot of coffee. As I’m filling up a cup, another guest approaches. We exchange good mornings and I hand one full cup of coffee to him, then start on the next for me. I add some cream then walk back toward the deck but before I make it there, I’m intersected by Annie, who greets me with a smile and the breakfast menu. Today, I elect for yogurt with granola, coconut shavings, and berries. And, a side of bacon, for good measure.

6:27 am: Hot coffee in hand, I start down the path to the beach to take in the sunrise. Softly crashing waves greet me and a sky painted with pinks, blues, yellows, and oranges stops me in my tracks. Unconsciously, I scan the water for a tail. The rod rack is only a quick jog away, after all.

6:49 am: Breakfast is served, along with another hot cup of coffee. Nervous, excited chatter fills the room as all guests and staff are now present. Everyone has their own pre-fishing preparations but the good food and conversation delays us all as we relish the morning together.

7:09 am: In my room, I sit on my bed and tie three new leaders, one for my 7-weight, 8-weight, and 9-weight. Knots are synched carefully and tested before I gingerly coil them. I head to the rod rack and replace yesterday’s leaders with today’s – each a symbol of renewed hope and the fish that will soon pull on them.

7:33 am: Savoring a final few sips of coffee, I watch as Kevin and Wanny gather all the rods and bring them to the truck, where four rod racks are filled to capacity.

7:43 am: Everyone loads into the bed of the truck and lines the benches on each side. We are sunscreened and giddy, each of us clutching waterproof fishing packs, wading booties, hats, and other necessaries. The truck starts and we are off to the marina.

7:52 am: As we pull into the marina, we hear the distinctive laughs of Travis and Freddie. Before seeing them, their infectious smiles are caught by us all and when we step out of the truck, we’re all smiling as well. We make our way to the waiting boats, hand over our rods to the guides, stash our gear, and step aboard. Meanwhile, our lunches and water bottles are tucked away in the boats’ coolers.

8:02 am: After confirmation that all rods, tackle, and layers are indeed stored, the guides fire up the outboards and ease us off the floating dock. One after another, we idle out of the marina and past the No Wake Zone marker. Buffs are pulled over heads and hats, and the engines open up.

8:18 am: Exiting the harbor, three boats turn south and mine, with Percy at the helm, heads northwest. A dizzying array of blues and aquamarines fly past as we cruise over shallow water on the way to our first flat of the day. Reflected light on the sand flats creates an imperfect but consistent tiling effect on the bottom. All my errant casts and missed shots from the day before are blown away by the breeze as we run.

8:44 am: Wordlessly, Percy slows, then cuts the engine. He grabs my 7-weight, inspects the fly, and hands it to me. My fishing partner and I have a brief debate over who will fish first, each of us trying to be as gentlemanly as possible by offering the other the first shots but the discussion ends when Percy climbs to the poling platform and tells us to get ready. I step on the bow and start stripping off line.

9:08 am: From behind me, Percy calls out our first bonefish of the day. I spot them myself and prepare to cast. At first it looks like two or three fish, but as they near, I see that there are many more than I realized – upwards of twenty. My cast lands softly on top of glass-flat water, five feet in front of the small school. “Wait,” Percy says. “Strip.” Two long, slow strips is all it takes and the fly is taken. Line slices the glassy water and soon the fish is safely on the reel. A few minutes later and it’s boatside, a quintessential Berry Islands bonefish, cradled gently by Percy. Then, in a splash, it disappears back into the warm waters.

9:32 am: My fishing partner is on the bow, now with a permit rod in hand. Silently we all scan as the boat inches forward. All of a sudden, Percy calls out two permit cruising quickly into range. There’s only time for one false cast, but the fly lands in their lane and the fish reach it within seconds. Moving the fly gently, it appears as if one fish leans in to take a look, but as soon as they appeared, they are gone. The three of us on the boat exchange glances, each of us ruminating the shot.

10:12 am: We’re now at our second flat of the day, my partner still holding the permit rod. Slowly we work our way around the northwest tip of a small island, where deeper water collides with a white sandy flat. A sting ray appears and all our eyes follow its course, trying to discern if it’s followed by a permit. Percy holds the boat in place for a few more minutes while we all try, with all our might, to make a permit appear.

10:55 am: After a run south, we’re on another permit flat, this one massive as a long channel of deep water abuts an endless bank of white sand dispersed with turtle grass. Sea life is everywhere – lemon sharks pass us by as do sea turtles of all sizes. Sting rays appear in the distance and Percy moves the boat to intersect their paths but none carry permit on them. We know that a chilly day in January has the potential to push permit off the flat to deeper water and edges but nonetheless our ambitions fog our judgement.

12:37 pm: We’re all hungry by now, so we open the cooler to reveal our lunches, chosen back at the lodge the evening before. Our conversation drifts between the present, the past, and the future as we recount fishing tales, learn about Percy’s life growing up on Little Harbour Cay, and where we’ll fish next. Rejuvenated for the afternoon’s fishing and a quickly-falling tide, we finish lunch and make our way to the next flat.

1:16 pm: As we motor, Percy spots a conch and spins the boat around. A quick text alerts Kevin, back at the lodge, that we’ll have enough fresh conch back for everyone to enjoy as an appetizer. Within 15 minutes, we’ve collected eight giant conch and are back on our way to the bonefish flat where we’ll spend the rest of our day.

1:28 pm: Arriving at the flat, Percy cuts the motor. Checking the time, we still have a few minutes before the tide drops to his liking, so we prepare our gear together, in anticipation of stalking bonefish on foot for the next few hours. We change our flies to smaller, unweighted patterns and discuss our approach, Percy pointing out landmarks for us.

1:43 pm: We slide out of the boat onto the solid, sandy bottom. We’re each equipped with a 7-weight, small fishing pack, pliers, and nippers. Before we start our wade, Percy hands us a radio. We strip off line, and start walking.

1:55 pm: My partner and I are 50 feet apart, moving at the same speed. The first school of bonefish comes into view 200 yards away, at first appearing as a small shadow on the water. Within seconds I’m seeing tails and backs and, thanks to Percy’s guidance, we’re perfectly positioned to intercept the school. “You go!” I say and watch as my partner prepares his line to take the shot. The first school comes and goes without a hookup and we discuss a change in presentation for the next, which is now in sight.

2:09 pm: I’m hooked up to a speeding bonefish and as quickly as it took my fly, I’m in my backing. All I can do is laugh and marvel and its velocity as I turn to follow its run. Meanwhile, my partner is silent and crouching in preparation for the next school that’s heading our way.

3:48 pm: Where the past 90-or-so minutes have gone, I have no idea. It’d be tough to put a number on the amount of bonefish we’ve just seen, coming at us as solos, small schools, and other schools that defy logic in their magnitude. We’ve each changed flies several times and have finally settled on a pattern and presentation that seems to match the preferences of the bonefish we’ve encountered. I’ve reminded myself to take a picture every now and then but many are rushed because of incoming fish.

3:55 pm: Percy radios us that it’s time to make our way back to the boat for the run back to the lodge. ‘One more cast’ has never been harder because the longer we’ve been on this flat, the better I’ve become at this game - spotting fish, making the right cast, moving the fly just right. Easing the pain of leaving the flat is the fact that I still have two more days here.

4:04 pm: We’re on our way back to the marina, cold Kaliks in hand and perma-grins on our faces.

4:41 pm: At the marina, we’re greeted by Kevin and Wanny, who help us unload all our gear, and hand us another cold Kalik. There are even cool washcloths for us to rinse off the day’s sunscreen and salt. I watch as Percy cleans and picks the conch we collected earlier.

5:25 pm: The distinctive chatter from post-fishing anglers, guides, and lodge staff is heard around the lodge as everyone shares stories from their days on the water. Kara then brings out several bowls of conch salad, made using those collected by Percy. It’s the first time I’ve tasted it, and the salty, citrusy flavors complement the evening as well as my Dark and Stormy. Travis and a few guests are on the casting platform on the lawn, taking turns casting; Chester is holding court at a small table outside with a few others; Percy is inside chatting with a few more. The apres-fishing at Soul Fly is almost as good as the fishing itself, I think to myself.

6:38 pm: After a shower, I’m back in the dining room with the others and our meals are being brought out to us by Kara. Tonight we’re having grilled spiny lobster tails, served next to rice and sweet potatoes. I have to remind myself that there’s dessert too, but nevertheless, my plate is clean by the time it’s collected. Dessert is an unthinkably light and fluffy souffle, an approachable offering that I, decide, I have just enough room for.

7:40 pm: Everyone sits in a semi-circle, drink-in-hand, and the stories are coming and going as quickly as the schools of bonefish did on our final flat of the day. A Ring Game challenge ensues and half the crowd files that way, while the balance decides that a round of draught Kaliks are in order.

9:24 pm: As before, the last few hours have disappeared at an astonishing rate and the day finally catches up to me. I reluctantly turn down the offer of a night cap, deciding that a good night’s sleep will do me more good. Back in my room, I stage gear and in doing so, come across a well-chewed bonefish fly. I stash it away for safe passage back home then climb into bed.

9:48 pm: Lights out, my head hits the pillow and I’m revisiting those schools of bonefish that just kept coming. Just before I fall asleep, a final image appears: that pesky permit from two days ago comes. Tomorrow, maybe we’ll meet in person once again.