Love and marriage,

Love and marriage .

Go together like a horse and carriage

This I’ll tell you brother,

You can’t have one without the other

– Frank Sinatra

Notice how the song doesn’t say, “fly fishing and marriage.” No, unless you are one of the few fisherman that married your fishing equal (we will now and in the future refer to these folks as assholes), it’s not very likely your spouse is too thrilled when you inform her that the tarpon are in, some guy you met on the Internet but you know really well is picking you up, and you’ll be back in a week. I have not once received a smile nor a pat on the back when I have told my lovely wife that a guide buddy had a cancellation on some far flung piece of water that holds one of my life’s goals and all I have to do is pay gas and be gone for a few days. No, my friends, I generally (like the rest of you poor married saps) am told that the mere idea of leaving would result in the natural transition to the idea of staying gone. So what is a fisherman with a thirst for travel and a wife that has no desire to travel to another in a long line of truck stops on the way to the water to do? The Bahamas, mon…the Bahamas.

The Bahamas. White sands, wadeable flats, endless conch joke material, and fish that pull. Life for a married fisherman is good in the Bahamas. A quick hop from anywhere in the South means you can get in and out quick so the kids don’t forget who you are. A million different islands to choose from (you may want to check my math here, I was absent a lot for both math class and geography) that the grey ghost calls home. There’s stuff for the old ball and fish-hating chain to do while you’re on the water. And the best part of all is you get to go fish all day, come back and have a civilized meal with your loved one and get credit for taking her on vacation. “Winner, winner, conch dinner” as far as I’m concerned.

We chose Bimini for our little “marital bliss” fishing trip mainly because we got offered a ride on a floatplane. There’s nothing like hurtling towards the water at breakneck speeds in a plane the size of a mid-sized SUV and walking away from the whole affair. Bone fishing in Bimini is kind of like that really hot step-sister your folks kept locked away for fear of rampant impregnating.

The blue water scene around the island is on a much bigger scale than most shallow water devotees can understand let alone tolerate for extended periods. But while the diesel and machismo crowd is catching fish off the sweat of the deckhands, Bimini’s world record-producing bonefish flats wait empty and unmolested…much like that step-sister. The key to any good wife-along trip is making sure Wifey is well taken care of at the resort, so you don’t have to harsh your bonefish mellow with a lot of complaining. In Bimini, this means hanging out by the pool of the Big Game Club, then moving to the bar of the Big Game Club, then moving to the hammock of the Big Game Club, and repeat for three days. Once this has been accomplished you are free like a newborn lion on the Serengeti to stalk your prey.

Whether it’s Bimini, Nassau, Freeport, or if you can somehow talk her into Andros, there is no better place in the world to take your non-fishing spouse on a fishing trip than the islands of the Bahamas. Take your wife somewhere—she deserves it. Plus, it buys you marriage credit for a solo trip in the future.

We would like to thank Tropic Ocean Airways, The Bimini Big Game Club, and Capt. Skipper Gentry for accomplishing the impossible: making our wives happy on a fishing trip.

 

 

 

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