Writing my travel journals is always a pleasure for me. It is a chance to revisit my trip and it’s an easy writing exercise. That is, it was easy until Campeche. The conundrum lies in the separation of two unique experiences rolled into one, and trying to decide which was my favorite. The fishing is an awesome adventure that cannot be mimicked or compared to anywhere else in the world, and the city is a cultural and refreshing experience that is quaint, modern, and yet old beyond belief. It is a place where the Mayan took up residence, then the Spanish, and now the Mexican. Throughout all these civilizations the constant has been the presence of the Silver King, the Tarpon.

Arriving late at night into Campeche, with a 6:00 a.m. wake up call means the first thing I experience outside my hotel room on this trip is a quick ride along the mangrove shoreline of the surrounding jungle as the sun begins to rise. The last silhouette of a structure I see as we clear the edge of the city is the baseball stadium which faces the water. We cruise over the glassy gulf of Mexico smoothly and efficiently. When the boat stops there is not a breath of wind, the water is gin clear, and the sounds of birds calling permeates the air. Within minutes I watch as two groups of Baby Tarpon roll on either side of the boat. The guides are dead quite and very calm as they turn the boat to a perfect casting angle. I am fishing a Big Eye Tarpon Fly in bright yellow and I can follow it under water as I strip the line. The fish that I am casting to don’t take the fly, but as the Big Eyed offering comes by a submerged log, a quick silver flash triggers my mind into telling my muscles to lay into the rod. Then the calm of the jungle explodes into water flying, guides speaking rapidly to one another in Spanish, undoubtedly instructions to take the boat away from the shoreline, and the continuous thud of this 25 pound Tarpon crashing into the water with mad thrashing leaps. We boat this fish after ten minutes and then carefully release it. We then motor 5 more minutes to a river mouth where more Tarpon are rolling. My friend then steps up to the plate, launches the fly and minutes later lands the first Tarpon of his life.

The scene is repeated virtually all day, with intermittent forays up into jungle rivers where battling these fish surrounded by structure tests everything you know about fighting fish. Several times a day we come across flats where we target Tarpon like Bonefish as they cruise slowly from place to place, other times we find them lying still in potholes on the Turtle grass and cast poppers over their heads to watch the vicious strikes. We catch Tarpon all week from 10 pounds to 30 pounds, and we have very little down time. These fish are year around residents here and they love to eat flies.

When the fishing day ends, a general call goes out in Spanish on the guides radio, and suddenly three or four boats begin to gather at full speed catching one another for a late afternoon rendezvous at the heart of the city. We arrive back at the hotel with instructions to be in the lobby at 6:00 p.m. A few cold drinks next to the pool is a welcome respite from the heat of the Tarpon grounds. A cigar also becomes a daily ritual as we discover Cuban Cohibas available at a few shops in the city. Eventually the afternoon rain comes for its ten minute show and we wash the chlorine from the pool off ourselves in the cool down pour. This shower is followed by a hot shower and some fresh clothes and then it’s off to dinner. Three dollars and fifty cents will get you a cab anywhere in the city, we visit a new restaurant each night and dine on the fruits of the gulf waters cooked in traditional Mexican and Mayan style. The freshest fish, platters of fajitas, rice and beans, freshly made tortillas all complimented with rich Mexican beer and fine tequila.

By the end of dinner the sun has set and the City begins to awaken in a dignified manner. It is not a city of crazy nightlife and tourists, but a city that functions best when the heat of the day has gone. Shops open their doors in the evening when they are ready, they close with each rain squall, and reopen just as soon as the rain has passed. The cobbled streets are alive with the residents doing their daily business. The city was once entirely contained inside a Spanish Fort and the remaining walls are lit up at night. Most of the buildings are restored to the original Spanish architecture and are painted in bright inviting colors. A few European tourists are about, and fewer Americans. Each night we find ourselves taking up residence at a local Cuban restaurant, where we sit on the veranda over the central square and watch the city go by. Eventually we wander about the shops until tired eyes lead us back to the hotel.

Sleep is deep and rejuvenating, even the excitement of the coming morning cannot keep me from the deepest slumber. In the morning, the air smells fresh and clean, a breeze created by the fast moving boat awakens me and is a perfect compliment to my coffee. By the time we enter the Tarpon grounds I am alert and ready for the challenge of the coming day.

By the middle of the week, we find time to put the fly rod down and explore the area. We visit the Endza Mayan pyramids one morning. We are the first and only tourists around as we stroll quietly through the plazas, trying to find angles where we can photograph the enormous pyramids, temples and halls. It is nearly impossible to find an angle as everything is enormous, the entire experience is surreal and leaves us speechless. We spend the rest of the day touring the Spanish Forts on local hilltops, designed to cannonball the pirates as they tried to row ashore. The rooms of the forts have been converted to Mayan Museums, where arrow heads the size of a hand and jaguar masks made of jade make the imagination run wild.

Campeche requires the use of all ones senses, touching the Tarpon, hearing the birds in the jungle, seeing the cathedral spires alit, tasting the fresh grilled fish, smelling the gulf air in the morning, I could make an endless list. In its current state Campeche is a gift to the fly angler. A full sensory experience that has left me longing to return and constantly wondering what I enjoy most about it…