Soundking
01-09-2009, 11:46 PM
*Put your feet up, grab a beverage and put some time aside, this one is a doozy of a report.*
Towards the end of last week, I had the opportunity to take a vacation down to Southwest Florida. My good friend, the legendary Captain Joe LeClair www.flyfishsalt.com lives in Boca guiding during the winter. We fish together frequently when I am in the area, and each time we were on the water, the Everglades came up. I like to fish the upper reaches of it from shore along 41, but never had the opportunity to go deep into the park and fish it from boat. Over the past few years, Joe has been exploring and dialing in some of the park. We decided over phone calls that a multi-day trip to the ‘Glades had to happen.
On Sunday morning Joe picked me up in Naples at 7:00 am. We were headed out in a loaded to the gills Action Craft tunnel hull by 9:00. We decided to run the outside in interest of fuel consumption and time. The goal was to get to the campsite by noon, set camp and fish the afternoon. Lately, there has been a good inshore body of Albies stretching from Naples to Boca Grande. We weren’t expecting to see them, but we still had it in the back of our minds. About three miles from the inlet, we began to see bodies of birds and tremendous volumes of bait. In this region, this is not out of the norm. Usually, if there are predators on the bait it is Spanish or Ladyfish. We stopped for a quick Gatorade near the birds. As we were discussing the fishing plans, we both saw an Albie launch. Sweet! After trying for about 30 minutes to get on the PMS’ing f-you tunas, I was finally able to button one up on a small x-rap.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9b.jpg
After a quick photo-op, we pressed on towards the mouth of the river we planned to camp in. When Hurricane Wilma hit, it decimated the ‘Glades. Running in towards the mouth, the outer trees looked like the Tunguska Event. Add to this the <3 foot depths a mile out from the mouth, and it was shaping up to look like a hairy situation. However, once crossing into the mouth through a precarious pass full of oyster bars and trees, the scene changed dramatically. Towering Red Mangroves lined the banks of a wide, slick river. Black water flowed gently towards the gulf and we were surrounded by lush estuarine flora. It was a truly gorgeous sight. It was like being in a green canyon. We soon arrived at the chickee platform and set up camp. Then, it was off to hunt dinosaur Snookasaurus Mogans.
Joe showed me a wide body at the head of the river with several confluences dumping into it on a chart. He explained that it held plenty of large Snook, and we should be able to come tight with the good dropping tide. After a quick run upriver, the stream opened to a wide bay filled with smaller creeks, prominent points and dozens of small islands. It looked like top-flight Snook habitat. We positioned along a promising shoreline and began to work surface offerings. Joe was quick to find success with Snapper and Ladyfish tight to the shore, while I continued to prospect off of the bank. Big Snook on lower tides often hang just off the bank, and this is what I was trying to target. About five casts into my prospecting, my sluggo was ambushed by something enormous. As my lure glided left, a huge fish erupted on it, barely missing. We were able to see the flank of the fish, and both surmised it was a Snook in the 20b class. I quickly fired back and began another retrieve. As the sluggo approached the boat, maybe 5 feet from the rod tip, I saw a Snook head that was all of 18 inches directly behind my bait. I gave the lure a gentle tick and the fish sucked in the bait. I struck home hard and put the head into the hair. Snook are perfectly designed ambush predators capable of a tremendous burst. Their initial acceleration rivals that of any large mackerel. The fish peeled line off the small Spheros at an alarming clip. Luckily, I was able to side pressure the fish enough to keep it out of the sticks. After stopping the first run, the fish was quick to come to boga. After taking a quick weight of 17 pounds, we were able to release the first Snook of the trip.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9c.jpg
In the low 40 inch class, this fish was a true mogan and one hell of a way to start the adventure! We continued to work banks as the afternoon pressed on. We would find fish staged off of points with good water movement, and scored on several other fish in the mid 20 inch range to the low 30 inch range.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9e.jpg
As the day wore on, a rainstorm formed that seemed to put a halt to the fish activity. We zoomed around a bit looking for rolling Tarpon, but didn’t find any. Of all the natural beauty in the area we fished, there is one aspect I will forever remember. The water was the most reflective I have ever seen. It was a perfect mirror of the sky and created a surreal scene while running through the various waterways and creeks within the system. At sunset, we were treated to remarkable light and its reflection coming off of the water. Joe was able to snap some remarkable photos of the scene, and they still don’t do the beauty justice.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9a.jpg
Soon it was dark and time to head back to our base camp. If you have never spent a night in the heart of the ‘Glades, you need to. The sounds you hear are second to none. You hear Owls, predatory birds, Gators groaning and fish crashing bait. It is a Dolby 5.1 surround sound cacophony of nature. Simply amazing.
We rose with the stars the next morning on a mission for Poon. With the warming trend we were having, Joe was optimistic about our chances to find the silver king. Tarpon on the Gulf in January. Amazing. We moved to the upper reaches of another system and began the hunt. With big rods rigged, and smaller ones actively fished, we hoped to find baby Poon and be ready should the big boys show up. While winding through a narrow creek at 20kts, we spooked out something massive. The animal left a huge mud, created a tremendous wake and left a succession of boils in it’s trail. Manatees. Lots of them. They were up there seeking out the warmer water, and we hypothesized that the Poons would be doing the same. Once we were sure we were out of the sea cows, we put the Kevlar hull back on plane. Around another bend, we spooked out another huge animal. This time, the succession of boils was missing but the wake and mud were still there. Joe perked up, smirked and said “That was a Poon. Big one, too”. With that we set up and began prospecting. As we rounded another bend, we both saw a black back with huge scales and a herring dorsal break the surface 100 yards in the distance. “80 lber. Happy, too.”, Joe said. We broke out the big gear and chased this fish for another hour. Up creeks, through winding mangrove tunnels, all the way to a smaller bay, we chased the actively rolling fish. We eventually lost this fish after he laid up in the skinny dark water. Not dejected, we decided to work our way down the system and try to replicate this pattern.
As we prospected another shoreline, Joe with the big rod, I with the light, we found plenty of bait. Ladyfish by the dozen, mullet jumping, this spot was ripe with life. I looked to my right down the bank towards a point and saw another Tarpon roll. Joe fired a cast to the shore, took one twitch and elicited the most violent explosion I have seen in my fishing career. 7 feet of ****ed off Poon exploded on his sluggo, bent the rod deeply, and in an instant was off. Fahk. Two casts later, I get a solid thump on the smaller rod within 10 feet of the boat. I wind tight and do my best to bury the point. Line angle comes up, fish feels heavy, preparing to bow….slack. Tarpon: 2, Team J. Joe: 0.
After a sandwich, we decided it was best to cut our losses and move on to the more redeeming Snook we had found the day before. We put the big rods away and grabbed the lighter gear. We continued to work shoreline, but were not rewarded for our efforts. When we first arrived, we saw one Poon roll out in the broads of the bay. After two half-hearted throws in it’s general direction, our minds shifted back to the Snook. An hour or so passed and still we found no fish where they were the day before. Joe gave the call to wind up for a move. We sat back on the console, Joe turned the key to the ignition and a dozen large boils emerged from the blackness in front of us. As if we still had stealth and maybe guile in our favor, we both whispered “Poon!”. Joe killed the engine, put the trolling motor back in and our focus shifted species back to the Poon. We found the motherload of Tarpon. There was a very slight ripple to the water, and if one focused enough, one could see the waves changing subtly as the rolled over the backs of laid up fish. Literally hundreds of Tarpon were all around us. We also found rolling fish, and an incredible behavior. Because this bay was only 5 feet deep, the Tarpon were pointing the very tips of their tails out of the surface. An inch at the most, but if you looked, they were everywhere. We worked these fish over for two hours without any love before seeing what we thought were huge Snook crashing on the far shoreline. We moved towards a prominent point with good water flow and began working again for Snook with the lighter rods.
Like the first day, Joe was hitting the bank, I was prospecting the water just off of it. No more than five casts into the prospecting, my sluggo was intercepted by something large. Wait, hold up, intercepted isn’t the right word for this. As I watched my small jerkbait glide and twitch though the water, a fish larger than me decided it would be a tasty morsel. A Tarpon that was all of 80 put half of it’s body out of the water in an effort to eat my sluggo. Apparently, epic Tarpon eats and misses turn me into Hellen Keller. “Ahhhbuuuh! Buuuuuuhhhh…..Tarpum?! Hooooh!”. I quickly fired back past where my eat was. Three twitches later, a smaller one of about 60 slurped the sluggo, turned downwards and tightened my line. I ripped cross body, trying my best to set the hook with my whippy outfit. Instantly, I was looking eye-level with a 60lb Silver King in the classic back arch pose. The fish landed and instantly ripped off towards the center of the bay. I applied side pressure, fully bending the blank to make sure we had the fish buttoned up. We had been flipped off too many times that day and I was going to put that fish in the boat come hell or high water or light equipment or adhd. Joe started the engine to give chase, bumped the boat in gear and I felt the hook pull. Somewhere, Tim Tebow was offended by my choice of verbal expression.
We went back to camp. I’m still bummed about that. Hang on, I’m going to pound a handle and watch Chasing Silver while I play Johnny Cash’s version of “Hurt” in the dark while I have a good cry.
K, back. That’s better. I feel refreshed. Day three had us again up with the stars and back to the spot we had found the Tarpon the day before. We found them quickly and rained shots down upon rolling fish, laid up fish and waking objects far larger than my internet ego. It didn’t take long to get a response. As I was mid retrieve with a big sluggo, a wake emerged behind my bait. “Ahhh, Joe….Dude, He’s fuggin on it…He’s gonna eat it…HE’S.ON.ME…ME!” Boil, thump “I’M ON! I’M FAHKIN ON!” Did I mention we had 24 redbulls for 3 days? I set several times violently and rapidly, sending the reel screaming. In my excitement, I thought that it must have been a reel failure. In the course of a nano-second, my mind processed that if I could get a good hookset and survive the first few leaps, I could handle the drag during the runs and palm sufficient pressure until then. Like most of you, I hate my brain. Apparently, the fish was just running in choppy bursts. As I grabbed the spool for another hookset, 80lbs of Poon cleared into the sky, launching far above head as my leader parted from the sudden surge. Tarpon: 4, Team Vas Defrons: 0.
No more than half an hour later, Joe had another fish erupt on his fly. This one was much larger, clearing the 100 pound mark with ease. Staying consistent with the fish we had hooked earlier, this one acted squirrely. As it grabbed the fly, it spun a 360 on it’s tail preventing Joe from getting a solid strip to set the hook. Another spit fly, another missed opportunity. With that, it was time to break camp and head home.
Running back through the river towards the mouth, we were treated to another tremendous show of nature. Have you guys ever seen the discovery chanel show on the hydroplaning Dolphin? Where flipper chases bait onto a steep shoreline and pushes so much water, he is able to not run aground? Well, I thought this is something I would never see. Apparently, I was wrong. We found a pod working in this exact manner. Several members of the pack would corral the bait while one would work up a head of steam and slash onto the shoreline. An incredible sight and Fast Fingers LeClair was able to snap a few shots of this.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9f.jpg
Just another special sight from the trip. I have always drawn a deep connection with nature, and trips like these only further cement these feelings. The feral beauty of the area is simply unrivaled. While the fishing was spectacular the scenery rivals that of any I have seen. It’s remarkable to think that this is just a short run away. These kind of experiences only come so often in a lifetime. As I reflected upon the trip during the ride back, I couldn’t help but smile and think about how fortunate I am to experience things like these. A truly remarkable trip, a remarkable fishery and a remarkable area.
Joe, thanks bud for the lifetime memories.
Towards the end of last week, I had the opportunity to take a vacation down to Southwest Florida. My good friend, the legendary Captain Joe LeClair www.flyfishsalt.com lives in Boca guiding during the winter. We fish together frequently when I am in the area, and each time we were on the water, the Everglades came up. I like to fish the upper reaches of it from shore along 41, but never had the opportunity to go deep into the park and fish it from boat. Over the past few years, Joe has been exploring and dialing in some of the park. We decided over phone calls that a multi-day trip to the ‘Glades had to happen.
On Sunday morning Joe picked me up in Naples at 7:00 am. We were headed out in a loaded to the gills Action Craft tunnel hull by 9:00. We decided to run the outside in interest of fuel consumption and time. The goal was to get to the campsite by noon, set camp and fish the afternoon. Lately, there has been a good inshore body of Albies stretching from Naples to Boca Grande. We weren’t expecting to see them, but we still had it in the back of our minds. About three miles from the inlet, we began to see bodies of birds and tremendous volumes of bait. In this region, this is not out of the norm. Usually, if there are predators on the bait it is Spanish or Ladyfish. We stopped for a quick Gatorade near the birds. As we were discussing the fishing plans, we both saw an Albie launch. Sweet! After trying for about 30 minutes to get on the PMS’ing f-you tunas, I was finally able to button one up on a small x-rap.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9b.jpg
After a quick photo-op, we pressed on towards the mouth of the river we planned to camp in. When Hurricane Wilma hit, it decimated the ‘Glades. Running in towards the mouth, the outer trees looked like the Tunguska Event. Add to this the <3 foot depths a mile out from the mouth, and it was shaping up to look like a hairy situation. However, once crossing into the mouth through a precarious pass full of oyster bars and trees, the scene changed dramatically. Towering Red Mangroves lined the banks of a wide, slick river. Black water flowed gently towards the gulf and we were surrounded by lush estuarine flora. It was a truly gorgeous sight. It was like being in a green canyon. We soon arrived at the chickee platform and set up camp. Then, it was off to hunt dinosaur Snookasaurus Mogans.
Joe showed me a wide body at the head of the river with several confluences dumping into it on a chart. He explained that it held plenty of large Snook, and we should be able to come tight with the good dropping tide. After a quick run upriver, the stream opened to a wide bay filled with smaller creeks, prominent points and dozens of small islands. It looked like top-flight Snook habitat. We positioned along a promising shoreline and began to work surface offerings. Joe was quick to find success with Snapper and Ladyfish tight to the shore, while I continued to prospect off of the bank. Big Snook on lower tides often hang just off the bank, and this is what I was trying to target. About five casts into my prospecting, my sluggo was ambushed by something enormous. As my lure glided left, a huge fish erupted on it, barely missing. We were able to see the flank of the fish, and both surmised it was a Snook in the 20b class. I quickly fired back and began another retrieve. As the sluggo approached the boat, maybe 5 feet from the rod tip, I saw a Snook head that was all of 18 inches directly behind my bait. I gave the lure a gentle tick and the fish sucked in the bait. I struck home hard and put the head into the hair. Snook are perfectly designed ambush predators capable of a tremendous burst. Their initial acceleration rivals that of any large mackerel. The fish peeled line off the small Spheros at an alarming clip. Luckily, I was able to side pressure the fish enough to keep it out of the sticks. After stopping the first run, the fish was quick to come to boga. After taking a quick weight of 17 pounds, we were able to release the first Snook of the trip.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9c.jpg
In the low 40 inch class, this fish was a true mogan and one hell of a way to start the adventure! We continued to work banks as the afternoon pressed on. We would find fish staged off of points with good water movement, and scored on several other fish in the mid 20 inch range to the low 30 inch range.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9e.jpg
As the day wore on, a rainstorm formed that seemed to put a halt to the fish activity. We zoomed around a bit looking for rolling Tarpon, but didn’t find any. Of all the natural beauty in the area we fished, there is one aspect I will forever remember. The water was the most reflective I have ever seen. It was a perfect mirror of the sky and created a surreal scene while running through the various waterways and creeks within the system. At sunset, we were treated to remarkable light and its reflection coming off of the water. Joe was able to snap some remarkable photos of the scene, and they still don’t do the beauty justice.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9a.jpg
Soon it was dark and time to head back to our base camp. If you have never spent a night in the heart of the ‘Glades, you need to. The sounds you hear are second to none. You hear Owls, predatory birds, Gators groaning and fish crashing bait. It is a Dolby 5.1 surround sound cacophony of nature. Simply amazing.
We rose with the stars the next morning on a mission for Poon. With the warming trend we were having, Joe was optimistic about our chances to find the silver king. Tarpon on the Gulf in January. Amazing. We moved to the upper reaches of another system and began the hunt. With big rods rigged, and smaller ones actively fished, we hoped to find baby Poon and be ready should the big boys show up. While winding through a narrow creek at 20kts, we spooked out something massive. The animal left a huge mud, created a tremendous wake and left a succession of boils in it’s trail. Manatees. Lots of them. They were up there seeking out the warmer water, and we hypothesized that the Poons would be doing the same. Once we were sure we were out of the sea cows, we put the Kevlar hull back on plane. Around another bend, we spooked out another huge animal. This time, the succession of boils was missing but the wake and mud were still there. Joe perked up, smirked and said “That was a Poon. Big one, too”. With that we set up and began prospecting. As we rounded another bend, we both saw a black back with huge scales and a herring dorsal break the surface 100 yards in the distance. “80 lber. Happy, too.”, Joe said. We broke out the big gear and chased this fish for another hour. Up creeks, through winding mangrove tunnels, all the way to a smaller bay, we chased the actively rolling fish. We eventually lost this fish after he laid up in the skinny dark water. Not dejected, we decided to work our way down the system and try to replicate this pattern.
As we prospected another shoreline, Joe with the big rod, I with the light, we found plenty of bait. Ladyfish by the dozen, mullet jumping, this spot was ripe with life. I looked to my right down the bank towards a point and saw another Tarpon roll. Joe fired a cast to the shore, took one twitch and elicited the most violent explosion I have seen in my fishing career. 7 feet of ****ed off Poon exploded on his sluggo, bent the rod deeply, and in an instant was off. Fahk. Two casts later, I get a solid thump on the smaller rod within 10 feet of the boat. I wind tight and do my best to bury the point. Line angle comes up, fish feels heavy, preparing to bow….slack. Tarpon: 2, Team J. Joe: 0.
After a sandwich, we decided it was best to cut our losses and move on to the more redeeming Snook we had found the day before. We put the big rods away and grabbed the lighter gear. We continued to work shoreline, but were not rewarded for our efforts. When we first arrived, we saw one Poon roll out in the broads of the bay. After two half-hearted throws in it’s general direction, our minds shifted back to the Snook. An hour or so passed and still we found no fish where they were the day before. Joe gave the call to wind up for a move. We sat back on the console, Joe turned the key to the ignition and a dozen large boils emerged from the blackness in front of us. As if we still had stealth and maybe guile in our favor, we both whispered “Poon!”. Joe killed the engine, put the trolling motor back in and our focus shifted species back to the Poon. We found the motherload of Tarpon. There was a very slight ripple to the water, and if one focused enough, one could see the waves changing subtly as the rolled over the backs of laid up fish. Literally hundreds of Tarpon were all around us. We also found rolling fish, and an incredible behavior. Because this bay was only 5 feet deep, the Tarpon were pointing the very tips of their tails out of the surface. An inch at the most, but if you looked, they were everywhere. We worked these fish over for two hours without any love before seeing what we thought were huge Snook crashing on the far shoreline. We moved towards a prominent point with good water flow and began working again for Snook with the lighter rods.
Like the first day, Joe was hitting the bank, I was prospecting the water just off of it. No more than five casts into the prospecting, my sluggo was intercepted by something large. Wait, hold up, intercepted isn’t the right word for this. As I watched my small jerkbait glide and twitch though the water, a fish larger than me decided it would be a tasty morsel. A Tarpon that was all of 80 put half of it’s body out of the water in an effort to eat my sluggo. Apparently, epic Tarpon eats and misses turn me into Hellen Keller. “Ahhhbuuuh! Buuuuuuhhhh…..Tarpum?! Hooooh!”. I quickly fired back past where my eat was. Three twitches later, a smaller one of about 60 slurped the sluggo, turned downwards and tightened my line. I ripped cross body, trying my best to set the hook with my whippy outfit. Instantly, I was looking eye-level with a 60lb Silver King in the classic back arch pose. The fish landed and instantly ripped off towards the center of the bay. I applied side pressure, fully bending the blank to make sure we had the fish buttoned up. We had been flipped off too many times that day and I was going to put that fish in the boat come hell or high water or light equipment or adhd. Joe started the engine to give chase, bumped the boat in gear and I felt the hook pull. Somewhere, Tim Tebow was offended by my choice of verbal expression.
We went back to camp. I’m still bummed about that. Hang on, I’m going to pound a handle and watch Chasing Silver while I play Johnny Cash’s version of “Hurt” in the dark while I have a good cry.
K, back. That’s better. I feel refreshed. Day three had us again up with the stars and back to the spot we had found the Tarpon the day before. We found them quickly and rained shots down upon rolling fish, laid up fish and waking objects far larger than my internet ego. It didn’t take long to get a response. As I was mid retrieve with a big sluggo, a wake emerged behind my bait. “Ahhh, Joe….Dude, He’s fuggin on it…He’s gonna eat it…HE’S.ON.ME…ME!” Boil, thump “I’M ON! I’M FAHKIN ON!” Did I mention we had 24 redbulls for 3 days? I set several times violently and rapidly, sending the reel screaming. In my excitement, I thought that it must have been a reel failure. In the course of a nano-second, my mind processed that if I could get a good hookset and survive the first few leaps, I could handle the drag during the runs and palm sufficient pressure until then. Like most of you, I hate my brain. Apparently, the fish was just running in choppy bursts. As I grabbed the spool for another hookset, 80lbs of Poon cleared into the sky, launching far above head as my leader parted from the sudden surge. Tarpon: 4, Team Vas Defrons: 0.
No more than half an hour later, Joe had another fish erupt on his fly. This one was much larger, clearing the 100 pound mark with ease. Staying consistent with the fish we had hooked earlier, this one acted squirrely. As it grabbed the fly, it spun a 360 on it’s tail preventing Joe from getting a solid strip to set the hook. Another spit fly, another missed opportunity. With that, it was time to break camp and head home.
Running back through the river towards the mouth, we were treated to another tremendous show of nature. Have you guys ever seen the discovery chanel show on the hydroplaning Dolphin? Where flipper chases bait onto a steep shoreline and pushes so much water, he is able to not run aground? Well, I thought this is something I would never see. Apparently, I was wrong. We found a pod working in this exact manner. Several members of the pack would corral the bait while one would work up a head of steam and slash onto the shoreline. An incredible sight and Fast Fingers LeClair was able to snap a few shots of this.
http://i365.photobucket.com/albums/oo91/jays52/jan42k9f.jpg
Just another special sight from the trip. I have always drawn a deep connection with nature, and trips like these only further cement these feelings. The feral beauty of the area is simply unrivaled. While the fishing was spectacular the scenery rivals that of any I have seen. It’s remarkable to think that this is just a short run away. These kind of experiences only come so often in a lifetime. As I reflected upon the trip during the ride back, I couldn’t help but smile and think about how fortunate I am to experience things like these. A truly remarkable trip, a remarkable fishery and a remarkable area.
Joe, thanks bud for the lifetime memories.