Hilary Hutcheson from Fly Fisherman Magazine Destinations
When it comes to fly fishing anywhere in the world, everyone has a job to do. The guide has to find the fish, the angler has to feed the fish, and the fish has to take the fly. If the goal is to take care of business, everyone must show up to work.
With this in mind, Jose Ucan and Lily Bertram of Kay Fly Fishing Lodge in Punta Allen, Quintana Roo, Mexico are all business. Not in the dispassionate clock-in-clock-out way stereotypically reserved for banal corporate types, but in the get-it-done-correctly-for-the-love-of-the-game method of legends.
Ucan, a native of Punta Allen, has been in the fishing industry for three decades, having started guiding in the area as a teenager. Bertram has been working as a fishing lodge manager in Punta Allen for more than 17 years. They partnered with Fernando Negron, in 2012 to build La Pescadora Lodge, which they ran together until 2020 when Negron passed away. Grieving the loss of their dear friend and faced with a full schedule of anglers on the books with no place to house them, Ucan and Bertram rented a hotel for guests in Punta Allen as they purchased and renovated a large, beach-facing house near the town dock and the historic permit statue. Ready in fall 2021 and open year-round, the sustainability-focused Kay Fly Fishing Lodge accommodates ten anglers. There are plans for the lodge to run largely on solar power and the operation continues to mitigate single-use plastics.
The fishery is located on the east coast of the Yucatan Peninsula within the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve, one of Mexico’s largest protected areas with 1,080 square miles of land, sea and coastal ecosystems. The area is known globally for its sandy beaches, pristine wetlands, tropical forests and palm savannah. Among fly fisherman, it’s regarded for the 12 square miles of shallow flats, mangrove islands and lagoons known as Ascension Bay, where anglers can fish year-round for preferred game species.
Theirs is not the kind of work you leave at the office when you go home at night. The year-round operation has Ucan and Bertram in a pattern of perpetual planning and execution. From booking reservations, managing staff, boat maintenance, communicating with fisheries managers and dialing key conservation initiatives, it’s an around-the-clock labor of love.
“And food is a big part of that,” says Bertram. Kay Fly puts care info gathering fresh vegetables, fish, meats and ingredients for the authentic Yucatec and classic Mexican meals. “Salbutes and empanadas for breakfast and cochinita pibil for dinner are always big hits,” says Bertram. “People don’t come to Mexico to eat continental food.”
The food is an important reminder, says Bertram, that while the Mayan culture has changed with modernization, it isn’t dead. “The Mayans are still here, the language is still alive, and the Mayan culture is so important to us,” says Bertram. “You’ll hear the guides pepper their conversations with Mayan slang and curse words. There are several small temples in the
reserve, and an ancient Mayan road that cuts through a lagoon that we fish.” The lodge itself has a Yucatec-specific name, as Kay means “fish” in Mayan. The pronunciation of Kay is with a long “I” sound…rhyming with “eye”.
While Kay Fly is a family-owned and run company, “family” isn’t limited to Bertram, Ucan and their two young sons, Parker and Romeo. “For starters,” says Bertram, “We truly consider our guests our family, and that’s how we approach the business. Plus, the guides are family to us just as the house staff. Guides Nestor and Miguel are brothers, and their brother-in-law Juventino also works with us. Jose’s brother-in-law Eduardo is on the team too. So, we’re literally and figuratively a family.”
As head guide, Jose has personally trained most of the guide staff. Nestor, known for his keen sense of humor and sarcasm, has been guiding for close to two decades. Miguel, whose nickname is ”The Gentleman Guide” gives clients the best instruction. “For example,” says Lily, “He’ll calmly say, ‘Sir, will you please be so kind as to cast 40 feet at ten o’clock?’” Guide William is known as “Eagle Eyes Willy”, guide Chucho is cool as a cucumber and apprenticed with legendary guide Manual Chac. And the hearty staff of junior guides are heralded as champion partners by their teammates and clients.
The youngest family members, Ucan and Bertram’s nine and six year old sons, Parker and Romeo, are also involved in the business, often running errands on foot or pedaling their bikes around town to pick up ingredients for a recipe. Parker is a brand ambassador for Thomas and Thomas Fly Rods and the youngest Youth Ambassador for Bonefish Tarpon Trust. Being raised in a global fly fishing destination, the children are constantly learning from people from all walks of life, different professions, backgrounds, cultures, and customs, says Bertram. And Bertram says the best part is that the boys spend most of their time outdoors. “They get more freedom than most children get nowadays.”
But the Kay Fly owners and staff aren’t the only ones focused on getting the job done. For some anglers, coming to Ascension Bay is about unfinished business. Kevin Chaney, from Washington, DC, visited Ascension Bay in early 2020 when Kay Fly Fishing Lodge was called La Pescadora. In four days of fishing, he caught many bonefish, tarpon, snook, jacks and barracuda, but no permit. “It EATS at you with each passing day,” says Chaney. “It’s a surreal feeling. I loved each day, and a big reason to come here is that you can fish for multiple species, but not landing a permit…well, there was this nagging annoyance. I had shot after shot at permit–two solid follows, a missed hook set, and one that I landed that turned out to be a jack, not a permit. It was tough to leave like that.”
Chaney good naturedly joked that it’s job security for Jose, saying, “When you don’t land a permit, you simply have to book another trip. I wanted redemption. I was determined to come back and sign my name on that wall and eat a scorpion,” says Chaney, referring to the wall in the lodge where first-time permit catchers get to sign their names in Sharpie, and the tradition of eating a scorpion (dead and stinger-free) to commemorate an inaugural permit.
“And although I could have gone to the Florida Keys or elsewhere to get my permit, Ascension Bay felt like home – the guides, the people, the staff, Lily and Jose, their children Parker and Romeo running around. So I went back,” he says.
And, for Chaney, it paid off. On day two of the trip, he and his girlfriend, Mitch, went out with Jose. “It was my first-time fishing with Jose,” says Chaney. “He’s a legend. Every day I was down there before, clients in his boat landed permit. So, the internal head games began as soon as I saw the lineup board that morning. Jose: Kevin and Mitch. I imagine that is what being called up to the majors might feel like. I remember glancing over at the signature wall and wondering if today was my day.”
It was. And it happened quickly. Jose picked an orange spawning shrimp with yellow eyes. Within ten minutes, Eliam, Jose’s junior guide, pointed to a spot 200 feet from the boat and said softly, “palometa” and Jose confirmed, “si”.
“We’re going to stalk so we don’t spook,” said Jose. They slipped off the boat and into thigh-deep water, peeling line off the reel as they walked. “Then suddenly I could see what they had seen–nervous water, heading toward us with several black fins dipping up and down,” remembers Chaney. Chaney recalls Jose saying, “Once they get 60 feet, start casting and lay it up 40 feet – when I say strip, you strip.” Chaney says he stayed calm, but his cast felt terrible as he laid down the line, with all his nerves apparently in his arms. “But I got it out there and the shrimp was waiting for the fish as the nervous water got closer,” said Chaney. Jose told him, “Strip, strip, strip, strip, strip, SET!!” Chaney set and says he was instantly impressed at the weight. His rod bent and quickly line started to scream off the reel. “It feels like flying a kite underwater,” he says. “I suddenly realized the mangroves, the coral, the sharks – they’re all wonderful things that can ruin a moment.” But nothing was ruined, and after Chaney released his first permit, Jose simply said, “Ok, let’s go again. “Before noon that day, Jose and Eliam had guided Chaney into two permit, two bonefish and two tarpon. A double grand slam.
“The entire lodge celebrated my triumph,” says Chaney. “The group made me a tinfoil crown and scepter. I was king for a day and I hope everyone gets to feel what I felt. I ate that scorpion, chased it with tequila and lime, and signed my name on the damn wall, finally.”
I was lucky enough to be part of the group celebrating Chaney’s double slam. And the good vibes carried me into my own permit experience the following day. An early morning panga run put Jose, Eliam and I on a flat close to town. When Jose spotted a single fish tailing ahead of us, Eliam and I jumped out of the boat in waist-deep, rough water. We speed-shuffled to the edge of a drop-off where the color changed from sea-green to deep blue. The headwind smashed my face and dared me to cast. The fish was feeding on the color-change, and we lined up alongside it, about 40 feet away. Trying to keep my footing in the rough waves, I pointed my rod toward the black tail I only kind of glimpsed between whitecaps.
“That’s him…now, GO!” said Eliam. I side-armed a prayer. Eliam said, “strip, strip strip…he ate it!” I set solidly and felt the purchase that’s worth every penny. And then I felt nothing. Slack.
Suddenly Eliam jumped out of the way to my left and we watched the fish go darting between us. I started to drop my rod hand and my shoulders slumped in disappointment. How did it come unbuttoned?! “No, no, no, don’t stop–he’s ON!” triumphed Eliam, this time hopping with his hands in the air. “He ate it, he ate it, he just ran back at us! He’s on, he’s ON! Fish him, FISH HIM!” In that second, the line didn’t just go tight, it absconded.
My toes were nearly to the drop-off, and another step would take me swimming. “Work him back up on the flat!” said Eliam. With the permit now banking to the right, I angled my rod across my body to the left and sidestepped away from the ledge as Eliam encouraged, “Keep moving, keep moving!”
When I felt the fish offer a tiny pause in its terrific pace, I reeled and gained some real estate on the line. It ran again, reclaiming all the footage I’d just collected, and more.
As it veered toward the boat, I knew I’d be in trouble if the boat ended up between us. Eliam ducked under my rod and hustled, splashing, to cut the fish off before it got to the boat. It worked, and the permit changed course. I changed angles and used the opportunity to reel down, steering the fish back up on the flat away from the boat. Together, Eliam and I sidestepped further from the ledge and away from the boat, until I had the fight on the softer flat instead of the heavy water beyond the ledge. When Eliam tailed the permit and shot his other hand into the air in a celebratory fist pump, I’m certain that he added some gusto to the grab for my benefit, as if my stoke level could get any higher.
As we landed the fish, Jose brought the boat to us so he could tag the permit with a dart tag that, if it’s recaptured, can inform scientists, fisheries managers and agencies on its movements, providing data to better protect the species. Jose has been tagging permit for the Bonefish Tarpon Trust for more than a decade. Locals say he’s tagged at least one thousand permit. They say that’s more than anyone else in the Ascension Bay Area and likely anywhere in the world.
Tagging permit is just part of the attention given by Kay Fly to the overall health of the fishery. “It’s important to protect this area for the future generations and for the ecosystem as a whole, says Lily Bertram. “We’re always trying to improve our fish handling skills. The culture has progressed slowly here over the years. We’re promoting keeping large fish in the water even for pictures, and trying to minimize the time out of the water for all species.The fact that we’re so isolated here has helped protect the fishery.”
Whether it’s the intricacies of a family sport fishing operation or the determination of an angler settling the score with a permit, taking care of business is the name of the game at Kay Fly Fishing Lodge. Given, of course, that relaxation, fun, enjoyment and enrichment are in everyone’s job description. No one at Kay Fly takes themselves too seriously, I’ve noticed. They’re quick to laugh, tell stories, and share their talents. And they revel in the fact that providing an excellent fly fishing experience for guests from around the world is just another day at the office.
Sidebar: top four permit fishing tactics from legendary guide Jose Ucal
- Be ready. You have to make the first shot count. Permit won’t stick around and wait for you to get your game together like trout in a river.
- Listen to your guide. He can see better than you. Trust him and cast where he says, even if you can’t see the fish.
- Be bold and brave. If you don’t shoot you can’t score, so go for it.
- Practice, practice, practice! Practice casting into the wind before you arrive in Ascension Bay.
Sidebar: Mind the road
A shuttle arranged by Kay Fly Fishing Lodge picks anglers up at Cancun International Airport and drives them three hours south, through the town of Tulum to a bridge inside the Sian Ka’an Biosphere Reserve where the transport switches to water taxis, driven by Kay Fly guides. The road does continue to Punta Allen, and is an option for guests who arrive too late in the day for the guides to navigate the route. However, the road is extremely bumpy, narrow and slow-going and most guests prefer the smooth, 45-minute panga ride.