Everyone loves a good fishing story and because of my profession, as a fishing guide, I get to hear more than my share. Some are believable and, well… some are not, but I’ve noticed that the best stories offer much more than just the “big fish” as a punch line. They usually involve a journey with good friends and lots of laughs along the way. Here are a few of mine from years past.
In the spring of 1999 my wife, JoNell and I along with our friend Steve, were fishing the back waters of Islamorada in the Florida Keys. The target for the trip was tarpon and most importantly this would hopefully be JoNell’s first tarpon.
The weather was incredibly hot so we decided to get a very early start. We were on the water just before dawn. After leaving the Matacumbe Marina we headed over to a small bay called Little Basin. We were still in sight of the docks at the Islamorada Fish Company when we noticed there were tarpon rolling everywhere! I made several cast with live pinfish and shrimp but all were refused. Steve was using a couple of different artificial baits with the same luck. It was madding! They just wouldn’t eat. I pretty much knew that the tarpon were in the area because of the fish scraps the Fish Company dumped in the area each morning. With that in mind, I cut up a pinfish and tried that. It was more of the same; no takers.
While Steve and I were discussing what to do next, JoNell found a small crab in the bait well and announced she was going to give it a try. I told her it wasn’t going to work because the fish here in the basin were use to eating scraps and I doubted very much that they would go after a crab.
OK, I admit it. She was right, I was wrong. The crab wasn’t in the water 10 seconds and a tarpon sucked it down! The fight was on and for the next 30 minutes or so she fought the fish like a pro. It weighed in at around 75 lbs. She had played and landed the first tarpon she had ever hooked. Not many folks actually land their first poon!
Steve and I unsuccessfully threw those fish crabs and lots of other offerings for the rest of the morning while JoNell looked on and coached. The tarpon continued to roll all around us and if they were so equipped, they would have thumbed their noses at us.
During the summers of the mid 1980’s a very good friend of mine, Garry from Kentucky, introduced me to small mouth bass fishing in the creeks near where he lived. It was an eye opening experience for me. I could actually go wading without the worry of being eaten (no gators) or stung (no stingrays).
We spent a great deal of time in the Little Kentucky River near Frankfort. It was a beautiful place with huge birch, maple and oak trees and the rocky bottom of the creek was home to literally hundreds of small mouth bass. We fished with ultra light spinning gear consisting of a 5 foot rod, small reel and 4 lb. test line. There was no need for a leader. I’ll never forget the first time he handed me a rod. We wouldn’t even attempt to catch bait here in Florida with something so small!
The lure of choice was a small plastic Rebel Crawdad with a plastic diving lip that you cast and then retrieved slowly, bouncing it among the rocks. The power of the strike was amazing! I’d put it on par with any good size saltwater fish. The fight was also surprising considering that most of the fish we caught were between 1 an 2 pounds.
On one of our trips we encountered a cat that apparently owned the section of the creek we were fishing. He was big and tiger stripped and quite friendly for a wild cat living in the woods. It didn’t take long to figure out why he was stationed near this particular fishing hole. Every time we caught a small bluegill (they are a colorful version of our pinfish) he would come out of the woods and meow and give you that doe eyed look that said, “Please give me that fish.” We’d toss it in his direction and he would catch it on the fly and then proceed to devour it, bones and all! After 3 or 4 he would lay down by the creek in the sun for a nap. We continued to find him there for quite a few years after that first encounter. He’s long since disappeared but to this day we still refer to the area as the “Catnip Hole”.
In the summer of 1978 my brother and I decided it would be fun to sail a couple of sailboats around Sanibel and Captiva on a kind of circumnavigation trip that would somehow also involve fishing. Pete commandeered a 28 foot Irwin from a friend and I rented a 27 foot Catalina from the Sanibel Marina. We loaded the boats with supplies (mostly beer and munchies) and set off around the Sanibel Lighthouse on what was suppose to be a week-long adventure with our wives. We trolled the Gulf and managed to come up with quite a few spanish mackerel. While anchored off of Cayo Costa, for a couple of days, we caught snook in the surf and lots of jacks and ladyfish.
On day 4 the Catalina had a major mechanical malfunction and we decided the best thing to do was to sail back to the marina and pick up another boat. Unfortunately there wasn’t another one available so we were forced to scrap the rest of the adventure. Well, sort of. The girls had had enough so they headed for home, but Pete and I decided to sail the Irwin back up the Caloosahatchee River to her home dock. I’m not sure why we left the marina after midnight. Well, maybe I do know why but there’s no need to point fingers. Once we were underway I fired up the stove and started cooking a big pot of boiled shrimp. We were just about to start eating when the blue lights came on and the boat was bathed in bright light from big spotlights. We were being stopped by the Florida Marine Patrol.
Those were the days of big time smuggling. I’m not talking about illegal aliens, I’m talking about drugs. I have no idea why we were even suspected of being pirates. Maybe it was because we were the only boat on the water after midnight and had no running lights, Jimmy Buffett music was blaring on the stereo and the smell of shrimp (bubble, bubble, bubble) was coming from the portholes. I don’t know.
Shortly after the patrol boat tied up along side of us I offered the officers shrimp and cold libations. After a momentary hesitation they refused the beer, saying they were on duty, and accepted the offer to join us for fresh cooked Gulf shrimp. After a bit of friendly conversation and a quick check of the boats safety equipment, they sent us on our way without even writing a warning ticket for the lights. The moral of the story is: If you are going to smuggle anything into U.S. waters in the middle of the night make sure to bring plenty of fresh shrimp.
Capt. Rob Modys
SoulMate Charters
