Problems with fog continued into the first of this week, prompting some schedule changes. My friend Andy Mount and daughter Rachel and I sat at the dock waiting on the fog to lift until around 9:30 Sunday morning, which was altering my plans for fishing a Sunday before a holiday. We finally tossed in the towel, and reschedule for Friday. Dittos for Monday. It was to be my first trip with Steve Cleary, and neither one of us had realized is was a holiday when we booked the trip. Between that and the fog, we opted to reschedule for Thursday.
So my first day on the water was Tuesday, with a fellow I just love to fish with, Bill Cruickshank, as well as his son-in-law, Olgo, and grandson, Ian, who had just turned eleven. In fact, this trip was really for Ian. Bill is the uncle of Aly Ward, who has become a good friend over the years that she and Bill have fished with me. And, Bill has become Uncle Bill to me. But, she would be spending the day taking care of Ian's little sister.
We'd just had yet another cold front come through, which had at least blown the fog out, and we were on a real groaner of a fifteen hour tide day. That, a big barometer, and a north wind would conspire against us. So, I fulled expected the fishing to be very tough. I guess you could say I wasn't disappointed. At the dock all I heard from others was how tough it was to catch anything!
We headed up into the Sound and went to work fishing potholes, hopping from one to the next as the fish lost what little interest they might have had in our lures. Olgo was steady fishing, and sure seemed to be enjoying himself. Ian would fish a little and then go play in the boat. Uncle Bill was up and down. I fished as much as I could trying to figure out what combination of color and presentation might get us on a good bite. We never got on a hot bite, but we whittled away at it, and managed to put three keeper trout in the well, one nice flounder, and boated one redfish. We missed a couple of flounder, quite a few trout, and one redfish.
I had awakened that morning to find that I could hardly stand up. I had an unexpected flareup of my back problem, and didn't even know what I'd done to bring it on. It took me nearly 45 minutes to get dressed, as I couldn't lift my right leg. If the trip hadn't been for Ian's birthday, I no doubt would have canceled. But, I couldn't bring myself to do it. And, ultimately I was glad I hadn't. Uncle Bill is a sweetheart, and Olgo turned out to be an absolute hoot. He was a very interesting, funny, and fascinating man, and he and Uncle Bill helped to keep my mind off the pain.
All in all I'd have to say it was a good day, as we'd all had fun, and had actually caught more fish than I had expected based upon the fishing reports I'd heard. I was glad we'd gone.
After Wednesday off, I was back on Thursday for my trip with Steve Cleary, and his eighteen year old son, James. It was another groaner tide we had to fish, and although the water was slowly warming, the fishing reports were terrible. Steve, is an avid angler who fishes some fifty times a year, and I wanted to put him on some good fish. But, I knew the reality was that it would be nearly impossible.
I picked Steve and James up at the Sanibel Harbor dock, just around the corner from the ramp. The wind was already pretty brisk out of the southwest as we headed up the river on our way to the Sound. We had yet another cold front on our doorstep, which I hoped would help to overcome the effects of the terrible tide. We would begin with pothole fishing while the water was low.
Our first stop pretty much made the day. The hole was slam full of ladyfish, and their tarponesque aerial acrobatics have saved many a tough winter day. Steve and James were having fun trying to get the hang of getting those leepers to the boat, and we stayed right there until they quit biting. We did manage one small trout from the same hole, which usually gives up plenty of big trout. We also put six of the ladyfish into the well, and would later steak some up and try to catch some redfish with them. I explained to Steve that redfish would eat ladyfish steaks when all else fails. We at least had a shot at some reds, because I certainly know where they are.
Our next spot gave us one small trout. I couldn't believe we couldn't get the trout to eat in holes that are know to be full of big trout. I was loosing faith for the redfish a little later. We kept at it, and from hole to hole couldn't get another bite. We switched our attention to redfishing with the lady steaks as the tide got right, and hit spot after spot without one bite. We couldn't even get a catfish to bite! I couldn't believe it, but it was what it was, and the ladyfish action for the first couple of hours had made the day.
We'd had fun though, and Steve and James were great. Steve assured me that as an experienced fisherman, he fully understood that sometimes the fish just don't bite, no matter what you do.
It was Friday, and time for my friends Andy and Rachael Mount to try again to get our day of fishing in. We were now on the back side of the front, and the wind was again out of the north and the barometer high. I knew the fishing would probably suck, and fishing reports at the dock that morning certainly reinforced that. If this had been a trip with a new customer I may have been tempted to reschedule or cancel it. But, I knew down deep that Andy would want to go, as we had no further date options. I was right.
The day actually went much better than I had expected. At our first stop Andy missed what was almost certainly a redfish on a gold Rattletrap. A little later, Andy fowl-hooked a mullet with the same Rattletrap, and a short while later I did as well. What are the odds? Then, the first real fish came when a beautiful snook ate one of those Rattletraps. Andy has caught plenty of snook with me in the years past, but always on livebait, and never in such a close quarters place. The hardest thing to teach in snook fishing is the sense of urgency one must have when fighting a big snook in such a place.
With the water temp having been so cold for so long, and again below 70, the big female snook was lethargic, and not delivering the initial speed and power that would normally mean big trouble in close to the mangroves. And, Andy did a good job of keeping the fish under control. But, ultimately he just took too long and wasn't keeping enough pressure on the fish, and she freed herself from the barbless hooks right at boatside after she was nearly ready to come aboard. We had at least gotten several good looks at the fish, and concluded it would have probably gone ten pounds. Snook are closed to harvest, but we were deprived a mega-pixed memory of that beautiful fish. Well, such is snooking.
From there we went trout fishing in potholes. And, after Thursday's fishing I was very happy to have a few trout eating. We fished probably half dozen holes, and had descent action, but certainly not a hot bite. We put four keepers to 4# in the well.
Andy and I had never gone redfishing, as this is not the best time of year to do so in anything less that a technical skiff that will float in less than half a foot of water. We've always been catching snook, trout, flounder, etc. I decided to again try the redfish, but we'd be using spoons and jigs, and fishing on turf I hadn't fished in many moons. I watched the water closely as we made our approach to the flat, and saw some scattered reds. They weren't rats, either.
We settled in on the flat, and began working a shallow pothole. I knew that virtually all the reds I'd caught from that hole had come from the same part of it, at the far end. But, because I didn't really expect the reds to eat, I didn't mention that. We just fan-cast the area as we made our way to the far end. And all of a sudden I saw a big red push a bulging wake as he zeroed in on the spoon from probably twenty feet away. Bam! Redfish on! Andy was thrilled with the fight of his first redfish, and did a great job of bringing it to the boat. We had actually almost pulled off the Slam on a tough winter day. Now, we were really mourning the fact that the big snook had escaped. We'll call it a virtual Slam! Shortly afterward, at another small hole just beyond where the first red had come from, Rachael hooked another brute on her RT Slug. I think she was quite taken aback with the pull of that fish. I was praying that the big red had managed to take the jig fully inside the mouth where the barbless jig would be much less likely to pull free as the big red thrashed and twisted around. But, that prayer went unanswered as the jig pulled free as Rachael struggled to pull it to the boat. She was disappointed for sure, but had at least had the chance to feel the brute power of the pit bull of the flats. We fished for a while longer, but we were about out of tide, and decided that we were all starved. We headed for the Waterfront Restaurant for our customary lunch there.
It was a great lunch, and gave us a chance to chat, which is sometimes hard to do when you're working hard to make something happen on the water. Andy and Rachael are a great father/daughter team, and are definitely on my list of favorite folks to fish with.
And, that's the way it went. We move into some better tides around the new moon next week. The water temperature as I wrap up the writing of this report on Sunday evening is 68. We've just had another weak front push through, and the winds will be north and barometer high for the next few days. It's anyone's guess how the coming week will go.