At breakfast in Havana before making the bus ride to the awaiting mothership, each of us shared what would make the trip special.

• “I’ve never caught a tarpon - that would be awesome.”
• “I’d love a good shot at a permit.”
• “I want enough reps to really leave a better angler.”
• “I’m just here for a good time.” (Which roughly translates to I want to catch a permit!)

Listening to everyone, the energy centered around doing things for the first time — so that became the plan.

The bus ride to the mothership included a stop at KM139 Café. Cubanos and piña coladas made the last 50 km a breeze. A short dinghy ride later, we were aboard. The same wonderful staff, chef, and captain made everyone comfortable and well-fed as we steamed toward the islands, setting up rods for the week’s adventures. By the end of that first dinner, this mixed group had already gelled into a crew of anglers excited to see each other succeed.

Sunday was busy, with anglers breaking into the Cuban fishery — multiple bonefish for everyone and plenty of tarpon. One boat even clocked six doubles on bones in the first hour.

Monday brought intense tarpon hunting as we focused on checking off a “first.” After weaving through lagoons and known haunts, our angler dropped her cast in front of a dark shadow. Two strips later, the water exploded. Guided by Frank, she cleared the line, changed rod angles, and applied steady pressure with pure determination until that Silver King gave in. Frank lifted the fish to her, and once in hand, a primal tarpon scream filled the mangroves. After a gentle release, she went on to land more tarpon throughout the week — including the biggest client fish of the trip.

As clouds turned the flats into liquid platinum, our “just here for a good time” angler set his mind to task. Around 9:30, as the light began to penetrate, guide Vera quietly said, “Permi, 11 o’clock.” Two false casts and the fly landed within a foot of the fish — instantly eaten. A sharp hook set, left arm out to clear, and a steady hand as the fish ran deep into the backing. “Can we go after it now?” he asked, and Vera did. After a composed battle of runs and repeats, Vera jumped in, tailed the fish, and landed his long-sought Cuban permit. “Just another fish…” he muttered with a grin as he released it back to the flat. Two hours later, he finished the slam.

Midweek stacked some distant storms and a dropping barometer, softening the bite. Even so, multiple big snook, tarpon, and bonefish came to hand, along with quality shots at elusive, hard-to-see permit.

The week ended under clear skies and bright visibility. Thursday and Friday were a whirlwind of action — another first permit, multiple slams, and several big tarpon. In all: five slams (two of which were firsts), two first-time permit, two first-time tarpon, and countless bonefish.

As the trip wrapped up, I realized that the wish list we made at that Havana breakfast was complete. Every box checked. This group cheered for each other all week; one’s success became everyone’s success - making the next “first” all the more possible. I was proud of them and they were proud of each other.

A week of hopes became a week of firsts, and those firsts became a bond these anglers now share.