Puerto Rico is an island steeped in mystery. Home to the only tropical rainforest in the United States, it was here in 1531 that Ponce De Leon began his search for the legendary Fountain of Youth. It’s believed that he was intrigued by stories told by the native Taino Indians concerning the Mina Falls, which flow down the slopes of El Yunque, a 3,500-foot extinct volcano and the source of the rainforest itself. In more recent times, El Yunque has attracted the attention of UFO-seekers who report seeing strange lights hovering over the misty mountaintop.

  Another more-sinister mystery  involves the Chupa Cabra, or :goat sucker,” a strange, man-like creature thought to be responsible for a rash of livestock mutilations. In each case, the animals were said to be left without a trace of blood in their bodies. According to legend, the Chupa Cabra has roamed the rainforest for centuries, living out a peaceful, solitary existence until man encroached upon its habitat. Only recently has it begun to feast on unsuspecting farm animals.

UFOs? Goat suckers? Tall tales? perhaps, but what about the huge schools of tarpon that are rumored to inhabit the lagoons and mangrove channels within the city limits of San Juan? I first heard about the San Juan tarpon while attending the 1995 Miami Boat Show where I met a young Puerto Rican captain named Omar Orraca who showed me a videotape of 30- to 60-pound fish churning the water into a froth as they fed on schools of bait.  The footage was enough to get any fisherman’s blood boiling, and Omar assured me that this action took place right in the shadow of the San Juan highrises. He was eager to show others this exciting and somewhat secret fishery, so he invited me to fish the lagoons with with.

It took two years, but last February I found myself on a flight to Puerto Rico, on my way to solve the mystery of the urban tarpon. After landing in San Juan, I grabbed a cab to the Holiday Inn, where I met up with fishing partner Tom Richardson, Managing Editor of SWS. We chatted about the next day’s prospects over dinner, then turned in, since Omar likes to get an early start.

Our ebullient host picked us up at 4:00 a.m. and drove us to the Cangrejos Marina, a mere five minutes down the road. We quickly loaded out gear onto Omar’s flats boat and headed out of the marina as the first rays of sun began to brighten the horizon.

While most people would assume that the logical place to find tarpon is along the ocean beaches, Omar heads the other way, deep into the mangroves, past the airport runway, condo complexes and residential neighborhoods of San Juan. The area was reminiscent of South Florida’s home-lines canals, until we entered a narrow channel that flowed under a busy highway. Traffic zoomed past overhead while local fishermen threw cast nets and hand lines from the bottle-strewn embankment. It was hard to imagine that we would be catching tarpon so close to this urban setting.

On the other side of the bridge the creek suddenly broadened into a wide mangrove channel, similar to what you would expect to find in the Everglades. It was as if we had been transported into another world. Mullet flipped on the slick, black surface and herons perched like sentries amid the thick mangrove branches. As we skimmed along, Omar told us that a tarpon weighing over 200 pounds –– the largest ever caught in Puerto Rico ––– was taken in this same channel back in the 1970s. He pointed out a small side channel that snaked back through the mangroves, explaining that these creeks provide a light-tackle alternative to fishing the large, open lagoons. In the channels, one can expect to find small tarpon, snook, jacks and barracuda, all of which will take a fly, lure or live bait.

Channel Action

Rising above the mangroves on the far side of the expansive lagoon stood the tall buildings of downtown San Juan, while El Yunque loomed to the left, its summit shrouded in perpetual clouds. Even though we could see cars streaming across the long bridge dividing the lagoon, the surrounding mangroves had an insulating effect, making it strangely silent. Odder still, there wasn’t another boat in sight.

Omar told us that the average depth of the lagoon was only about four feet, but clay mining during the ‘50s and ‘60s had left deep holes where the bottom suddenly dropped off to 30 or 40 feet. Later in the week he took us to a spot where the bottom plunged 47 feet–– only two feet from the edge of the mangroves! Omar believes that these holes provide the tarpon and baitfish with the cooler temperatures they require when the shallows get too hot (in summer, the water temperature can reach 95 degrees), allowing them to live in the lagoons year ‘round. Just how the tarpon reach the nearly landlocked lagoons is not clear. Some locals believe the fish travel through subterranean channels that lead to the open ocean, or that they navigate the shallow side creeks in times of high water.

Winter Fishery

How the fish get into the lagoons may bea mystery, but how to catch them isn’t, at least not for Captain Omar. As Tom and I scanned the glassy lagoon for rolling tarpon, Omar prepared the lines. Since we were fishing in early March, he didn’t expect us to witness any of the “frenzies” of smaller fish I had seen on the video. These occur most often from October to December. According to Omar, during a frenzy you can expect 15 to 25 strikes and to release from four to six fish ranging from 30 to 50 pounds–– all in just three hours of fishing! The bigger fish become more active during January, February and March, when you can expect to release one to three fish per day in the 50-110-pound range.

When he’s targeting these larger tarpon, Omar uses 16- or 20-pound spinning gear and a 100-pound shock leader tied to a 4/0 hook. He also prefers big baits. His favorite big-fish baits are large “lisa” mullet, which he catches in  the channels, but ladyfish and sand perch (mojarra)also work well.

As we drifted over one of Omar’s hot spots we saw tarpon rolling all around us, and every once in a while a school of resident snook would pop up over a shallow bank near the middle of the lagoon. A strike seemed imminent, but the fish didn’t seem to be feeding.

Later in the morning we heard some commotion coming from a skiff that had staked out near us. The occupants turned out to be friends of Omar, and they had hooked a big tarpon. Anxious to get some photos, we approached cautiously, cameras clicking away as the fish made jump after jump and the led the skiff on a chase around the lagoon. After a spectacular fight, the captain leadered the estimated 80-pound fish and slid it aboard for measuring. As he stretched the tape along the fish’s body, the tarpon suddenly convulsed and its rock-hard head struck him under the eye, nearly knocking him senseless. After shaking off the blow, Omar’s friend was able to measure and release the fish successfully, although the next day he had several stitches and a nice shiner to show for his trouble.

While Tom and I never caught a really big tarpon during our visit, we did see hundreds of them rolling and jumping in the lagoon. Omar was apologetic that the fishing had was so slow, and surmised that the moon phase may have caused the lockjaw we were experiencing. Still, we always managed to catch a few small tarpon or snook each day.

One of the things that amazed me about the area was the amount of bait available in the lagoons and channels. A throw of the cast net could yield everything from pilchards and anchovies to sand perch, mullet and ladyfish, all of which make outstanding tarpon baits. Snook are probably on the tarpon’s menu as well. Omar recalled a 158-pound tarpon caught in March, 1996, by local angler Franky Haen while fishing aboard Captain Juan Torruella’s boat Tight Loop. The fish was the largest in the area to be caught on rod and reel, and when it was brought back to the dock it coughed up an eight-pound snook! Incidentally, Omar’s biggest fish is a 130-pound brute he hooked on a threadfin herring.

Other Options

While tarpon are unquestionably the main attraction, you can also tangle with snook up to 20 pounds and jacks in the 12- to 25-pound range. The larger jacks and snook are occasionally caught from February through March, but there is no way to predict when, or even if they’ll show.

One of the great things about the tarpon fishery in Puerto Rico is that it’s primarily a winter affair, with action starting to heat up in October and running through  the end of March. It’s a perfect option for vacationers who want to get in some inshore fishing while visiting the island. You can even enjoy a half-day of tarpon fishing and be on the beach or at poolside by noon!

As for natural beauty, Puerto Rico boasts lots of bird life, great diving and snorkeling, and of course there’s the “secret” mangrove backcountry with its twisting channels. Also, you should definitely plan on visiting the spectacular El Yunque rainforest park, which is just a short drive from downtown San Juan. After spending some time on the mountaintop, you can easily see how it has inspired thoughts of alien visitors and shadowy, blood-sucking beasts. Although we never did meet up with the elusive Chupa Cabra, the large iguanas that sun themselves in the mangrove branches along the channels kept our heads turning as they scrabbled through the leaves and splashed around noisily in the water. At least I think they were iguanas.

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