My trip was with Roger Pecha, his ten year old son Robert, and eighty year old father-in-law, of Clayton, Missouri. They were down to enjoy a week on North Captiva. North Captiva is a very long run, and adds a lot of time and expense to our day, so we all charge a little extra to pick up and deliver to the island. More often than not, getting there is not a problem, unless it's windy. And, with the constant barrage of cold fronts this month, it's been hard to catch a day that's not. We moved our trip from the original date once. We had one day left in the week when the forecast seemed it would cooperate with winds at 8 to 13! Wind was the issue!
Thursday morning came and the forecast at 4:30 AM was still good. But, in my heart I didn't trust the forecast for a minute, and knew from a lifetime of Florida living and weather watching, it could blow up in my face. But, Roger really wanted to get his son out, and I needed to work, and I made my trip preparation and went to the ramp. By the time I got the Talon into the water the wind was already at 10 or better. Not a good thing. I had nearly an hour before I'd launch, and hoped it would lay. It didn't.
Things went well until I got to the area of Redfish Pass. The wind had kicked out of the southeast. As I approached Redfish Pass the wind was blowing right straight across the hard incoming tide, and it got really nasty. The wind was at my back now, but coming back with my gang to the area I wanted to fish would be another story. A southeast wind will stack the water up on the eastern shoreline of the island.
There were hundreds of pelicans and terns working in Redfish Pass. I stopped to investigate, and to call Roger and let him know I was fifteen minutes out. I saw a ladyfish or mackerel or two go airborne, but never spotted any bait in the water. Of course, the water looked like the muddy waters of the Mississippi River!
Finally, I was at the runway at North Captiva, where Robert, and his grandpa were waiting on me. Roger had gone to get some live shrimp and pinfish, since there had been no bait anywhere back where I had come from. The tide was very low, and the wind driven waves made it impossible for me too ease the boat close enough to the short for them to just step in without getting their feet wet. We used a nearby private dock to get everyone aboard. Now, the fun would begin.
The flat I wanted to fish were back to the south! Things were fairly smooth until we rounded the barrier bar off Safety Harbor. Then, all hands were looking for places to hang on. It was bumpy heading back into the wind. I knew it would be a lot worse, later.
Back at Redfish Pass the birds had disappeared in the time it had taken me to get to North Captiva and back. I decided to fish for a few minutes to see if we could pick up anything at all. We didn't, and moved on.
Roger's goal was to try to get on something that would bite for his son Robert. That was my goal, and that pretty much meant trout. Roger also wanted to take home dinner. Once we got to our spot, it didn't take long for Robert to begin getting hits, and catch the first fish. I knew the fish were there, but could not be sure there would be a bite. Fortunately, we had a bite, but it wasn't a hot one.
We fished mostly along the edge. As the bite tapered off, I'd move us down the edge the length of a cast, or so, and begin again. We had fairly steady action, and put half a dozen keepers in the well, too. But, it was never the fish on every cast bite that I am so used to having most winters. I was thankful for what we had, though, and we were having fun. Grandpa wasn't fishing, and was content to just enjoy being out. At one point I put a pole rigged with a shrimp under a popping cork in his hands and he caught a nice keeper trout.
It was now late into the morning, and I suddenly realized the wind had really kicked. Geez. The sound was so white-capped it looked like it had a foot of snow on it. I knew my ride home had been ambushed.
I asked Roger if he wanted to use the last hour or so to try for redfish, and told him the prospects weren't good. But, we had the meat order filled, and I knew the wind would continue to build to the point that was not safe to be out there at some point. I also knew that I could get the boys safely back to Safety Harbor because there was not enough water for me to run inside in the very shallow stuff, and stay out of the rough. We only had to be exposed getting across Redfish Pass.
The boys were all for trying for reds for the last part of our trip, and I thought it best to get back across Redfish Pass to do so. I didn't want to have to take them across the pass in a really nasty wind. It was bad enough I'd have to do it.
We fished several areas inside North Captiva, tossing silver and gold spoons with rattle chambers built in. They're great baits, but we never got so much as a look. The wind continued to build, and I was very concerned about my ride home. I told Roger we needed to get back to Safety Harbor. After an easy ride across the shallows we were there, but the water in front of the strip was bouncy, even though it's somewhat protected. Finally, we got everyone unloaded, along with the fish and leftover bait, and Roger managed to pay me without loosing one bill in the strong wind. I was off.
I back-tracked my way and stayed in the shallow until I had to exit for the manatee zones at Sanibel. The crossing at Redfish was bumpy, for sure. Once at Sanibel I stayed as close to the shoreline as legal, and stayed out of the worst of it. I also wicked the speed up way beyond what I usually run, to let the Talon air-entrapment hull do its magic. I made a crossing back to Picnic Island and went up Miserable Mile, because I sure wasn't about to go out into the gulf past the causeway to get back to Punta Rassa in what was now a very strong south wind.
I was reminded of why Miserable Mile was so named. Nasty. It was pretty nasty all the way to the river. Once I turned south toward the ramp, I was running right up the gut, and it got very nasty. The water was so chopped up and covered with foaming whitecaps, I couldn't read the water. My glasses were also covered with salt, but it was pointless to clean them. And, I knew that when I'm getting wet in the Talon, I shouldn't be out there.
I was making my last ¼ mile approach to the ramp coming up to the causeway. I was running fairly fast to smooth things out. Then it happened. The Talon launched itself well into the air off a rogue wave I couldn't see in all the turbulence. I've had the Talon airborne many times in ten years, but never like this. This felt more like an extended flight than a short hop. I sensed I could be in trouble as my rear end left the seat, because I couldn't see what I was going to land in. My life flashed before my eyes in the second or so that I went to the point that my hands were the only thing still in contact with the Talon. I took some comfort in knowing that I had my kill switch lanyard hooked to my waist, but hoped it actually worked should I be slung from the boat. I felt sure in that second I was being ejected. The thought also crossed my mind that perhaps I should have stopped and put on a PFD. But, I hadn't even thought of it.
Suddenly, the sound of the exposed exhaust muted as the Talon found the water, and the cat hull bit the next roller, as only a cat can. There's no slippage like there is in a modified vee! I was violently slung to port, but still managed to keep my grip on the wheel as the hull found it's track and the G's neutralized, and slammed me back onto the seat. Damn! I was still in the boat, although barely, and the console was still attached to the cockpit floor.
I was really shocked to find myself still IN the boat. I thanked God right then and there. I got my composure and made the last few hundred yards to the ramp. I was home safe, and rattled. But, in retrospect that ride had been a blast.
Safely on the trailer, I reflected on the day. Had I known for sure what my instincts told me, I could have canceled the trip. I believed the forecast, which ultimately was wrong. But, it had been a fun day with three great guys. And, now I will apologize for not being able to remember Grandpa's name. I'm thinking it was Joe, but by the time I got home and got the boat cleaned and put away, I was so tired and sore I could hardly walk. I figured I'd be crippled with my back the next morning. Fortunately, I wasn't, but my brain was scrambled. I was sure glad he'd come along though, as he'd been great company.
I've got a pretty full week next week. I just hope the weather will let me get it in. I've yet to get in a full week this spring because of the weather.