"Long cast. Ten o’clock. Strip. Strip. Strike!”

It was music to my ears, casting for Belizean bonefish. In early March, my wife and I were fortunate to spent two weeks in Belize. Part of the trip, of course, included an opportunity for me to catch a bonefish.

Like many mountain-bound trout-rodders, for years I’ve dreamed about catching a bonefish on a fly rod. For months prior to the trip, I scoured fly-fishing magazines, phoned fly shops and Googled Web sites, “boning” up for my big chance.

Before leaving Montana, I booked Belizean guides for two days of fly fishing. First trip was with Arthur, out of Placencia, who, because of the wind, tried to talk me into spending a day in the mangroves chasing snook and tarpon.

“Nope,” I replied. “I came all the way to Belize to catch a bonefish.”

The next morning, we ran all the way to the Barrier Reef, more than 20 miles, in his panga, a 25-foot open fiberglass boat powered by a 115 horsepower Yamaha outboard. Full throttle all the way. Regardless of waves.

Finally we anchored in the shallow cove of a tiny idyllic caye (pronounced “key”) complete with palm trees, a wooden kayak and a few eagle rays and barracuda swimming under the boat.

“See those fish?” Arthur asked, pointing to a school of about 50 silvery shadows in the water. “Those are bonefish.”

Long story short, Arthur selected one of the shrimp patterns from my fly box, told me to rig up the 8-weight rod, and cast so the fly landed just on the outside edge of the school.

“And don’t raise the rod tip when you strike,” he added. “Just pull back with your line hand.”

Good teacher. I caught a “bone” on my first cast.

Later we moved to several other cayes, only one of which had a hard flat for wading, so most of the day was spent casting from the panga.

Placencia bills itself the “Permit capital of the world,” but I was more than thrilled to catch more than two dozen bonefish.

The next morning, I had to put my hands on the bathroom vanity to lower myself down to the toilet. Damn thing must’ve shrunk overnight. Felt like all my vertebrae had fused from crashing down onto the panga after getting launched into the air.

A week later, Parnell took me out from Caye Caulker. The “bones” were a bit bigger and certainly more wary. This day, I fished my own McCrab patterns.

Saltwater fly fishing is sight-fishing, so most time is spent just looking. Once spooked, by fly splashdown, line shadow or whatever, bonefish head for deeper water. There’s no second chances.

After a half dozen bones, I opted for permit and tarpon, but the wind was too strong for the flats, so we searched in waters just off the flats.

More than once, I pointed to a sea turtle or a mantee, thinking I’d spotted a group of fish.

Another great day, and another wild boat ride. In a future story, I’ll share more about Belize.

We loved it.