Tides, Tales, and Friendship: Our Fishing Trip to Los Roques.

This trip wasn’t really meant to happen, as it hadn’t been planned long in advance. But when my best mate Marcello told me he had holidays in August and wanted to go fishing somewhere, I just said: “Let’s go to Los Roques. I’ve heard great things about August and September from the guides, and I’ve wanted to try it for ages.” And just like that, in June, we booked our trip from the 5th to the 15th of August. Everything was in place: the right company, easy travel, and a dream location to fish and enjoy life, without killing ourselves with long, stressful journeys.

Arriving in Los Roques, we finally slipped off our shoes and flip-flops to walk barefoot on the pristine sandy streets of Gran Roque, where the biggest traffic jams involve dogs, cats, and a few wandering tourists—but never cars. The setting immediately put us in the right mood.

Our first fishing goals were Parrotfish, Triggerfish, and Permit. We knew Tarpon were likely out of reach this season, but we felt confident we’d get good chances at some truly special fish. The trip kicked off with solid Triggerfishing. I was luckier than Marcello in terms of numbers, but we were both enjoying ourselves, landing decent fish—including a Queen Triggerfish that became my ninth species of Triggerfish on fly. On top of that, it was an incredibly beautiful catch.

The days unfolded with more Triggers, the occasional Bonefish, a few Jacks, and Blue Runners, but no Tarpon. Then one day, our guide suggested we try targeting Permit. We started adding one to one and a half hours of Permit fishing each day. Results came quickly: daily shots at Permit, with Marcello getting closer and closer, a few fish following and even nipping at his fly without connecting.

Still, it wasn’t quite enough to make us fully commit. But our guide kept saying: “It will get better, there will be more.” He was right. The last four days of our eight-day trip completely shifted. We went all-in on Permit, realizing there was serious potential for both numbers and big fish. Marcello had some close calls, and I had this gut feeling something big was about to happen. At that point, nothing else mattered; no more messing around with anything that wasn’t a Permit.

On our first fully dedicated day, Marcello had two clear chances in the morning, one fish even biting but not hooking. I had four shots, all with fish engaging but not sticking. Six big Permit in one morning—unbelievable. The afternoon gave us a few more, but nothing dramatic. That evening, we looked each other in the eyes and both knew: “It’s going to happen… maybe.”

The next day I wasn’t feeling well, so I stayed quiet in the boat during the afternoon session, leaving all the shots to Marcello. After a morning chasing Triggers, we set out for Permit once conditions turned favorable. It didn’t take long. Two tailing fish, two failed shots, then a third Permit came and ate Marcello’s fly cleanly. I finally saw my best friend, who had always underestimated his own abilities, tight to a big Permit he had spotted and presented to on his own, just as I had advised him. With the guidance of our brilliant guide, he did most of the work himself. The fish was strong, the fight intense, and my happiness was even greater than if I’d been the one hooked up. After 45 minutes, Marcello landed a majestic 12 kg Permit on 0.36 mm tippet. While he fought, more tails popped up across the pancake flats around us. It was incredible. That night we had plenty of stories to tell, and plenty to toast.

The following day, I was feeling better and hoped for my own Permit. What happened went far beyond my expectations. From morning we chased Permits, spotting a few inactive fish—always possible, but harder—and I had some good shots and follows, but no hookups. Patience. It’s all about patience and the almost religious belief that it will happen. And then, in the afternoon, it did. I spotted a giant fish tailing and cruising hard. I presented my fly, and he came straight for it, inhaling it without hesitation. Suddenly, I was tied to a bus-sized Permit on a thin leader, my reel screaming as line melted away. We had to jump on the boat and follow. After about 40 minutes, we landed on another pancake flat to finish the fight. I was shaking, heart pounding. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcello, 200

meters away, fully engaged and casting hard. For a second, the thought crossed my mind: “Could it be?” but it felt too much to hope for. A minute later, Marcello hooked up. Another Permit. The two of us hooked up to giants at the same time. The screaming, the shouting—totally out of control. Both of us were close to tears. The feeling cannot be described. I landed my fish first, a beast of around 15 kg (33–35 lbs). Then we rushed over to Marcello, and 15 minutes later, he landed his. We hugged like crazy. Unreal. We had dreamed of taking double shots with Permit, but never thought it would actually happen. At one point, Marcello even joked we could’ve had a triple hookup, while he was fighting his, he was surrounded by more tailing Permit. Right place, right time, right guide.

These were some of the best 10 days of fishing in my life, no question. On our final day, we only had half a session until 2 pm. Honestly, we were both completely satisfied, almost too full of it all. Still, our guide pushed for one last run. Marcello decided to chill in the boat and let me have all the shots. From 9 to 12, I had six good chances but no hookups. The funny part was how relaxed I felt, no stress, no expectations, just pure enjoyment. Around 11, my guide told me, “At 12 you’ll hook one.” I laughed and shrugged it off.

At 12:05, we approached a pancake flat with two tailing fish. I made a long cast. One Permit cruised in, inspected the fly, and ate. I hooked up. Fishing with lighter tippet that day, 0.30 mm, the fight lasted a full hour. At last, I landed the fish just in time to get back, shower, pack up, and head to the airport.

This trip was pure magic: the company of my best mate, the fishing, the endless fun day and night, and the unforgettable fish we caught. You can’t truly understand Los Roques in just one trip. Even for me, a seasoned traveler and fisherman, after spending over a month here, this was by far my best experience on the islands. Hopefully, the next one will be even better, in this last pristine Caribbean paradise.

Nicola Vitali