Aye yai yai,” William “Buddy” Johnson groans. “So shallow. So spooky in this water. They can hear you coming. Move slow, slow, slow.”
We’re stalking bonefish on an aquamarine flat inside the coral reef ringing Belize’s Turneffe Atoll, the country’s largest atoll. The water is barely ankle-deep, and the bones’ sickle tails gleam in the sunlight, dorsal fins flip-flopping from side to side as they grub for shrimp and crabs. Johnson knows we have a challenge in these conditions. His father guided bonefish anglers for thirty years across the Belizean flats, and he’s been fishing with him since he was a little boy. Now thirty-six, he wears a diamond stud earring that can’t hold
