Following an unforgettable hosted week in Cayo Cruz—filled with spectacular fishing and happy anglers—CFFC host Rosie and I hit the road. We crossed the country from Camagüey to the Zapata Peninsula, eager to explore a lesser-known Cuban fishing destination.
We arrived in Playa Larga just after sunset, driving onto the sandy beach that hugged the shoreline. Our clean, modest hotel sat nestled by the sea, offering a warm and unassuming welcome. Weary from the long journey, we turned in early, excited for the adventure and exploration that awaited us the next day.
We rose in the pre-dawn darkness, ready for our first day on the water. With daylight savings time in effect, the sun still hid below the horizon as we dug into breakfast. The fresh guava and passionfruit juice was a refreshing wake-up call, while the strong Cuban coffee revived us. We savored the moment, as the dark, starry sky gave way to the rising sun.
Our morning began with a shuttle ride into Ciénaga de Zapata National Park. Along the way, our driver shared how deeply cherished and protected the park is by the Cuban people. With strict conservation efforts in place, minimal human disturbance is allowed to preserve its beauty.
The rustic road led us through 45 minutes of pristine wetlands, where we were surrounded by vibrant flamingos, soaring birds of prey, and an array of songbirds.
Ciénaga de Zapata is truly a birdwatcher’s paradise. We frequently stopped the car, captivated by the sight of countless flamingos gracefully dipping their long necks into the shallow, mirror-like waters. The park is home to hundreds of bird species, including six endemics found only in Cuba, making it a dream destination for nature enthusiasts. As we pressed on, the park’s untouched, natural richness left us in awe, right up until we reached the fishing marina at the end of the road.
At the dock, we were greeted by our guide, Bryan—a young, ambitious, and highly knowledgeable angler who had grown up on these waters with a fly rod practically in hand. Bryan was a standout student at Felipe Rodríguez Alonso’s guide school, where local kids and young adults are trained to be fishing guides.
After years of exploring these waters, training as a guide, and passionately fishing on his own, Bryan was more than qualified. His deep-rooted connection to the region and genuine enthusiasm made it clear we were in expert hands. Rosie and I were glad to have him lead us over the next three days, eager to discover what this place had in store.
After a short boat ride from the dock, Bryan cut the motor and pushed us into a crystal clear mangrove lagoon. Speaking excellent English, he gave us clear instructions on what to look for and how to target the fish we might see.
It didn’t take long before we spotted schools of baby tarpon rolling close to the mangroves. After a few chances, we were hooked up and landed our first tarpon of the day. As we worked through the lagoon, we jumped several more tarpon and spotted a few snook lurking in the shadows.
Later, Bryan took us to a beachfront flat with small channels and patches of turtlegrass leading into shallow, white sand flats.
After observing a biblical amount of boxfish (also known by Cubans as “cowfish”), Rosie made her first casts at a trio of bonefish cruising close to shore. After an initial refusal and a quick fly change, she was hooked up with a “ghost of the flat”, landing her first bonefish of the trip.
Bryan then pushed the boat into deeper water, and I took my place on the bow, this time on the lookout for permit. Knowing their elusive nature, I stayed sharp but kept my expectations in check. After about 20 minutes of scanning, a school of six permit suddenly appeared within casting range, swimming through a channel away from the boat.
With no time to spare, I laid out a cast in their direction, but it was too late. The school vanished into the depths before we had a chance. We paused for a moment in awe. It had been less than 90 minutes since we launched the boat, and we already had real chances of achieving a “Grand Slam.”
We spent the rest of the day following Bryan’s lead, switching targets as we poled along the beach, through mangrove tunnels, and into secluded bays. We wrapped up the session by stalking spooky permit on foot until the day was over.
Back in Playa Larga, we had just enough time for a walk down the beautiful beach and through the little village, taking in the sights as the sun set. We stopped at a small snack bar to try the local dish of the day—fried crocodile with rice and a side of bean soup.
The next day, the weather took a turn. Clouds filled the sky, adding a layer of difficulty to our permit hunt. Despite the challenging conditions, Bryan managed to spot some nervous water, giving us a couple of decent shots. However, the fishing slowed considerably when heavy rain clouds rolled in, eventually surrounding us in a tropical storm. After pushing through for a bit, we finally called it a day, looking forward to the river expedition that awaited us the next day.
On our final day of fishing, we ventured away from Las Salinas, heading to the other side of the Zapata Peninsula to explore the Rio Hatiguanico.
We met Bryan at a jungle cabana, perched at the confluence of a freshwater spring. The dock was lined with American-style bass boats, ready for the day ahead. While we didn’t have the ideal fly setup for fishing the jungle river—a 10 wt rod with a 400-grain sinking line—Bryan came prepared offering us his own rod and reel to borrow, a rare gesture in most fishing destinations.
As we set off, birds sang in the canopy, and we could feel the jungle come alive around us.
We got into action right away. After a short boat ride, weaving through downed branches, we anchored at our first spot of the day. Tarpon were rolling in the distance, and before long, we hooked up—luckily landing our first fish of the morning.
After jumping two more tarpon in the 20-pound class, we continued downstream, stopping at the confluence of various spring channels to target more rolling fish.
As we made our way downriver, the watershed gained significant size, transforming from a narrow spring-fed creek into a massive jungle river, stretching hundreds of meters across. Here, we saw schools of tarpon rolling in all directions, hoping our paths would cross on the expansive river. In the distance, we spotted a few giant tarpon, their massive bodies breaking the surface—so large they could’ve been mistaken for breaching whales.
We jumped, leadered, and lost a few notably bigger tarpon in the vast river before making our way back upstream.
A highlight of the day came when Bryan took us up a small tributary, with the boat hugging the mangroves, squeezing through tunnels of twisted branches. Every turn looked like a dead end, yet there was always just enough space to fit our boat, allowing us to venture deeper into the jungle. With barely enough room for a quick underhand cast, Rosie hooked two tarpon before landing her third fish after an epic fight in the tight quarters.
The friendly street dogs that seemed to live at the dock welcomed us as we arrived back from our day of fishing. We said our sad goodbyes to Bryan, thanked him for the week, and followed his 1950’s baby blue Chevrolet out of the jungle before heading back to the little beach town of Playa Larga we called home for the past few days.
That night, we had the honor of meeting Felipe in his home to learn more about his fly fishing guiding school. Felipe’s house felt more like a community clubhouse than a personal residence. A stack of fly rods sat in the corner of the living room, and the walls were lined with photos of fly fishing legends like Lefty Kreh, posing with Felipe. Down the hallway, eight of Felipe’s pupils, ranging from kids to young adults, were preparing a family meal together—something Felipe made clear he wouldn’t miss for the world.
While many of the best young guides in the area have passed through his school, the school is about more than just fishing. Some students go on to become guides, but for many others, it’s an opportunity to join a supportive group where they can explore their personal goals, all while having a positive impact on their community. Emotion and pride filled Felipe’s face as he spoke about his students and the futures they were building.
Rosie and I left Felipe’s house moved by his words and passion for his pupils. As we set off down the beach back to our accommodations, we spotted a local boy of around 12 years old, practicing his fly casting before dinner. While the sun set, we reflected on this special place—where locals and travelers come together, sharing the preserved beauty and the welcoming community that defines the area.
