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Manistee River - August 1st, 2009 |
RECORDED: 
73 °
FISHING: Excellent
AUGUST 1, 2009
To paraphrase Franklin Delano Roosevelt:
“Yesterday, July 31, 2009—a date which will live in history—Bill Fusell ruthlessly and deliberately attacked the Manistee River. His attack upon the brown trout and brook trout which inhabit that river was dastardly.”
Put plainly, Bill had a triple-career day. We floated for nearly nine hours through that glorious stretch of water between M-72 and CCC Bridge.
Bill boated 20 trout. But he RAISED 106 fish! A New League Record. Never before, in the 30 years that I’ve fished the Manistee, and the past 19 years that I’ve guided upon it, has ANYONE ever raised so many fish!
And the damndest part was that there were no fish actively feeding. It was what I call “pound-em-up” fishing—putting the fly into all of the right places and letting the fish do the rest.
You’re probably wondering about now what flies Bill was throwing. Well, it was one fly (of course he went through a half-dozen of them, but it was the same pattern) a big brownish parachute that I guess you could say looks like an oversized Isonychia.
Anyway, it got sort of “comical” (as my dearly departed grandmother used to say) as fish after fish after fish after fish came to the fly. Some dimpled the surface. Others slashed and flashed at it. Still more were determined to destroy it.
By the end of the float, I determined that it was pretty amazing, all things considered.
And the funny part was that Bill really WANTED that twentieth fish. “I want to at least be at twenty-percent,” he said. Alas, he missed that magic number by six rises, but just as I told him “If you want number twenty, it had better be right now,” he sure enough did it.
Two minutes later we were at the takeout.
“Well,” he said as we were driving to his truck, “that was pretty special.” Especially since his wife, who’s in the public relations department at Ford Motor Company, bought the trip online. I had donated it to Muscular Dystrophy or something (I can’t keep up with the float-trip donations I’ve made to various charities and fundraisers).
So, Bill got a trophy day at what probably was a bargain-basement price.
But, he has a sister in Bradenton, Florida. And one of his best friends has a father and brother who live in—TA DAH!!—Venice. So now he’s keen to “use this as a good excuse to visit my sister and go saltwater fishing with you.”
Good, Bill. I like the way you think!
Later today I have a wader “fitting” party with Jo Roney’s crew, for whom I’m doing a “Rookie School” tomorrow. It’s a surprise birthday present for her husband, who’s always wanted to learn fly fishing.
It’s always fun getting new people into “The Quiet Sport,” but spreading four guys out wading the Manistee River will surely play hob on my old decrepit knees. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Ah, well. It helps keep my weight down!
I’m booked every day next week except Thursday, but still have some days open later this month. The Hopper Hatch should be on in full force, and the White Flies (E. lukon), will start popping toward the end of August. Book now, or forever regret your folly!
ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE
I did an online “survey” with RealLife yesterday and it determined that in human years, Ghost (who turned twelve in May) is 40 years old. Compared to other setters who would rate at 60 years old.
She certainly has been looking spry. The cooler temps have kept her and the puppy—Heart (who’s two)—bouncing around waiting for shotguns to go into the truck and “THE” hunting pants to come out of the cedar chest.
Sorry, kids. Jim Avery’s Wild Wings preserve eight miles north of us isn’t putting out any chukkars or pheasant until August 15. Just two weeks, then I’ll let the dogs get a snootful of scent and hopefully (probably) feathers in their mouths.
Heart remains a real puppy. He can be perfect only so long, then he’s tearing up some contraband and back in “the doghouse.” He’s just so energetic and full of life he can’t control himself.
Well, maybe some birds will slow him down!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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AuSable River - July 25th, 2009 |
RECORDED: 
75 °
FISHING: Excellent
JULY 25, 2009
If you are really into catching large brown trout on tiny dry flies, you’d better start making plans to fly, drive or crawl to the pristine waters of Michigan’s lower peninsula.
Soon!
Baetis (Blue Wing Olives) in sizes 16 and 18, and Tricorythodes (White Wing Blacks) in sizes 20-24, are all OVER the place. The Au Sable River, with it’s long stretches of gravel, has been especially generous with those hatches in the past week.
The Big Bang hasn’t happened yet with grasshoppers—the weather’s still been cool and damp. BUT, the short-term forecast is calling for dry, hot weather beginning next week.
Make sure you have an ample supply of Hoppers ranging in size from 10 to 6, with the full color spectrum of yellow, tan, cream, chocolate brown, and olive. You might want to put a dab of red marabou under the wing on some of them.
And there’s no shortage of controversy over whether or not the Hoppers should have legs. Stop in any fly shop in northern Michigan and you’ll get a stern lecture from each proponent of “No legs”; “Knotted-hackle legs”; “Rubber hackle legs and the list goes on.
One thing is certain: ‘Hoppers will bring very large brown trout to the surface in the middle of the day!
Work the log jams (in Michigan the locals call them “sweepers”) and put the fly rightnext to the logs. Three inches out might bring out a Big Boy. Six inches is doubtful. A foot from the log? You might as well be eating a sandwich.
Sure, you’ll hang up the fly every now and then. But, that’s the challenge of going after The Big Boys. Rick Pope, president of Temple Fork Outfitters and a good friend for many years has a favorite phrase: “It ain’t easy being a sportsman!”
Fish during the hottest part of the day, because that’s when the Hoppers will be most active. Remember, that moist dew that feels so good on your bare feet keeps Hoppers buried under the grass and leaves.
Remember to give your pattern a very slight (and I DO mean slight) twitch as it gets to the Prime Lie—where The Biggest of The Big is holding. That spot, of course, is where the current first hits the sweeper.
The reason is obvious. Mr. Biggest wants first shot at the smorgasbord of bugs being washed downstream with the current. Lesser-sized trout will arrange themselves in the appropriate pecking order further down the log.
Ants, ant, ants. Big black ants. Small black ants. Half-black/half-red ants. Small cinnamon ants. Don’t set foot astream without them from now through the end of trout season (Sept. 30). Some black crickets in size 16 should be right alongside those ants.
And for all that’s Holy make sure you have some winged ants! The trout go absolutely CRAZY over flying ants. Sizes should mostly be 16 and 18, but some big black ants in size 14 can be mighty useful.
You also should make plans to be here in mid-to-late August. That’s when we see clouds of Ephron Lukon—better known as the White Fly.
Most of the serious action with the White Fly happens below the Mio Dam on what’s generally called the As Sable “big water.” I was there one night (yes, Virginia, another night-time hatch) and when it started, the water was as white as milk and the sky had a block of bugs six feet high.
I turned on a light for a moment and instantly was covered with Lukon. And when I got home I was scooping handfuls of them out of my vest pockets.
Interestingly enough, the most effective pattern for actually catching trout when the Lukon hatch is on is with—TA DAH!!!!—emergers. Go figure.
The hatch has a narrow window of opportunity, however. So, if you’re interested in some really exciting fishing for big browns in skinny water, stay in touch with me. Better yet, book NOW!
ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE
Grouse season is fast-approaching, and I’ve already booked several days in October, so do not delay in scheduling some time to hunt over Ghost and Heart.
The season is Sept. 15 through Nov. 14 for grouse, and Sept. 20 through Nov. 4 for woodcock. Resident small-game license is $15. Non-resident three-day tag is $31, or $70 for the full season. You don’t need an extra license for woodcock, but you must advise the agent that you will be hunting them.
Your small-game license also will allow you to shoot squirrels and rabbits (but NOT while hunting over my setters!).
Ghost is doing great. Her hearing is off a bit, but then again so is mine! It’s really funny to watch her keep the puppy in line. He’s two years old now, but still a “puppy.”
So, when he’s into some mischief--like taking cloth napkins off the dining room table—all I do is tell her “Ghost, get him!” Like a streak of white lightning she runs up and glowers at him. Even though he’s a head taller and 10 pounds heavier than Ghost, he drops the contraband and flops down onto his back.
He’s full of fire and races the length of our 36-foot porch for hours, looking for mourning doves. Heart showed a lot of promise last fall. This is his year to shine!
He’s gonna be a good one. Maybe even a great one.
FLORIDA
Tarpon have split up into singles and pairs. The ones that I think are spawned-out old-timers who simply don’t want to make that loooong swim back to Africa.
So, look for them around some of the pilings and deeper grass flats throughout Charlotte Harbor and Pine Island Sound. Get out real early, though, and fish until about 9am. Maybe as late as 10.
After that, it’s just too dad-limbed HOT to stay on the water. Hit some snook lights early on your way out, and maybe look for some snook and reds around the mangroves on your way back to the ramp.
My season this winter was very, very good. We hooked some cobia, Ron Boehm nailed an enormous jack crevalle, and all of the usual cast of suspects were very co-operative.
Tarpon? It was the best fishing for me and my clients in 14 years of fishing in and around the Venice area.
We saw hundreds of poons, jumped a bunch and boated our share—including two that were more than 100 pounds. Will Bouck, from Grand Rapids, and Mike Vallis, from England, both boated their first tarpon ever.
And Mike landed his with a busted rod that I had to lash together with Surflon wire and 80-pound fluoro while the fish was still thrashing around at the other end of the line!
If that gets your blood boiling, call or e-me immediately to book YOUR “Dream of A Lifetime” for next summer!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - July 10th, 2009 |
RECORDED: 
94 °
FISHING: Excellent
Despite a Busted RodMike Vallis Got His Tarpon By Capt. Tony Petrella It was seven in the morning and already pushing ninety degrees. I was anchored off Casey Key, just north of Venice, Florida, and the tarpon were starting to wake up. Personally, I was sweating like hell and regretted that I hadn’t brought more cold water. Mike Vallis and I had been up since around four, got on the water at five-thirty, and now were staring at poons popping up all around us. A couple of them were so close I even thought they were trying to eat my Hewes Redfisher. “Tarpon at six ‘o clock,” I said to Mike. He turned and in the same instant loosed a cast. The little blue crab smacked the water and within three seconds there was a tremendous thrashing and a tarpon in the hundred-pound class was tied tight to the eighty-pound bite-tippet. Then things got interesting. Mike’s from England, just south of London. He fishes pike and carp Over There, and has done a bit of billfishing. But never before tarpon. “I’m keen to catch something large,” he had told me in his email. “Not really interested in the smaller species.” So on this hot July morning within an hour we (he) was into “something large.” And strong. And angry. “Keep turning his head,” I said. “When he gets comfortable going to the right, shift the rod to the left. And always keep the tip down low. Don’t let him come up to get a gulp of air. That’ll add another thirty minutes to the fight.” “How long,” Mike asked, “does it take to land one of these tarpon?” “Well,” I replied, “until you get into the hang of it, the rough rule of thumb is a minute per pound. Of course, guys like Stu Apte and Lefty Kreh whip ‘em a lot faster than that. But your first fish probably is going to take you a while. “If you’re lucky!” He wasn’t lucky. About an hour into the slugfest I heard the sound that guides dread most. “Snap!” And there was Mike with a perplexed look on his face and the tip section of the rod gliding toward the water. What do you say in a situation like that? So, I said nothing. He managed to get the top part of the rod into his left hand and I started searching for a roll of duct tape that I always keep aboard. Nothing. It was in my garage after a different fix-em-up. But, there was some Surflon braided wire from Spanish mackerel season. “Hold the guides in position,” I said to Mike, and started wrapping. This tarpon, meanwhile, was still giving us fits. My old eyes didn’t fail me, and within less than a minute I had lashed the pieces together. Still Game On. “Ooops,” Mike said just a bit later. “It looks like we’ve come undone,” Back to the drawing board. Re-tie the wire. Add several turns of eighty-pound shock tippet with a couple of half-hitches and PRESTO! You’ve got a rod that lasted ANOTHER hour before we landed this six-foot tarpon that was about one hundred pounds! Mike was both enthralled and whipped. The tarpon, of course, was not enthralled but VERY whipped. I was simply concerned about getting a couple of pictures, reviving this magnificent fish, and maybe catching another one. I guess all of us more or less performed our assigned tasks. Except for the part about catching another one. We stayed out a few hours more and saw some, had shots at some, and wished for shots at others. A few bulged next to the boat. “No Joy” as we aircraft pilots sometimes say. Or, as Rick Pope—president of Temple Fork Outfitters fly rods likes to say—“It ain’t easy being a sportsman!” But, as Mike Villas will attest, “it sure is fun!” Tight LoopCapt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - July 7th, 2009 |
RECORDED: 
88 °
FISHING: Excellent
July 7, 2009 Looks like this is the “final lap” of the ’09 season for me in Florida. I’ve got Mike Vallis from the UK on Friday, my good friend and fly-tying buddy Duane Hartz on Saturday, and perhaps Dr. Trent Mascola on Thursday if he can break away from fixing sick folks. There still are plenty of tarpon around. We had a lot of shots last week, but the fish had a bad case of lockjaw. Jim Franklin and his young son, Perry, went through a bushel of crabs with “no joy” on Thursday. Same with Ray Czapiga on flies Friday. Ray’s a recent transplant from Connecticut—sold a longtime family sausage-making business-- and fished with me earlier this season. We had a tough day then, too. One of these days, Ray, I’ll get you into a BUNCH of fish. I promise! The GOOD news is that Randy Plumlee, his son Jay, and nephew Colter had a very fine day inside on the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) Saturday morning. No tarpon, to be sure, but a varied bag of fish and plenty of them. Big trout, bigger ladyfish, lizardfish, a whole bunch of catfish, and even a flounder! They had a blast until the sun got blazing hot and the kids wore out. So, this week is the final curtain for me in south Florida this year. BINGO! That’ll bring an end to what has been the best tarpon season since 2005. I spent a lot of time on the inside this year because the rollers off the Gulf made even standing on the deck pretty difficult. But, a good guide finds “secret” spots where his people can still get into fish no matter what! The plan now is to button up the house on Sunday and head out early Monday. Stop overnight in Knoxville, then cruise into Deward Tuesday afternoon. Then it’s time to roll out the OTHER boat—Col. John Norcross’ old 24-foot Au Sable Longboat—and get on down the Manistee River between M72 and CCC Bridge. After, of course, taking Kate to several of our favorite spots on the upper river near our nice log house. I hear the caddis and Isonychia are starting to come on in big numbers. There might even be some Gray Drakes lingering because it’s been so cold. And, of course, the “Hopper Hatch” hasn’t even started yet and that’s one of the most incredible daytime fishing events you’ll ever have in Michigan. Hoppers are one of God’s greatest creations when it comes to dry fly fishing! Gosh. Tossing a 479 Finesse Series TFO will seem like a toothpick compared to the big sticks we’ve been using down here. Of course, saying “we” is really a mis-statement—since the only fishing “We” have done this season was the one day Capt. Gospo and I chased tarpon just before he left for West Yellowstone a MONTH ago! He had three grabs that day and I ended up with five, although “grabs” were all they were. We never put Silver into the air. Now he’s back on the Madison and Missouri and I’m going home to the Manistee and Au Sable. Gee, the seasons really fly by. Speaking of “fly” it’s just two months until grouse opener. Woodcock numbers were down about twenty percent last year, but grouse were solid. We averaged 6.1 points/flushes per hour last season and would have done even better if we’d used my dogs more than the “guests” who weren’t accustomed to the woods and tag alders. I’m happy to say that my bookings have been coming in steadily from past clients and my listing in Black’s Shotgunner’s Guide. HINT: If you’re an upland gunner, get with me pretty quickly to book what prime days in October still remain. Go to the LINKS dropdown (up top on the far right) for lodging information. Hope to see you soon in Michigan or Montana! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 27th, 2009 |
RECORDED:
88 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 27, 2009 I had the best of times and the worst of times this week with Al Kestern and grandsons Bradley and Mike. Al grew up in Rocky River, Ohio, not far from where I long ago was a sportswriter for the Lorain Journal. Both boys were born there, but Bradley lives here in Florida. Al moved here from Pittsburgh 10 years ago, and took a fly casting class from me in January. Ergo the Tuesday fishing trip in the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) around Venice, Nokomis and Osprey. And geeze we absolutely slayed ‘em. The boys had taken a short fly casting class from me on Monday, but things just weren’t working out with the long rod so we switched to spinning gear and they each hooked fish after fish after fish. A very good day indeed. So then Al tells me they’re going down to Everglades City for a few days and have I ever fished down there. “Yes, I’ve had an Everglades National Park (ENP) permit for five years. Fished there a lot of times.” “Can you guide us down there?” Al asks. Yes, I can. We set the trip for Thursday and I get up about 5am and pull up the radar, since I’m hearing rain falling and some boomers. The screen is filled with green and yellow and red. I go back to bed. At 7am I call Al and we reschedule for our alternate “rain day” on Friday. Big puddles in the parking lot of the Rod & Gun Club. And my buddy John Wilson had called Thursday afternoon to tell me about the rain that had gone through. “I made a good call on this one” I think to myself. So, I get Al and the boys aboard the Hewes Redfisher and off we go to one of my favorite spots. We set up for a drift and there are pushes by big fish everywhere we look. Snook and reds. However, we spent three hours out there and not one single fish ate the Gulp! Shrimp the boys were pitching. First time I’ve ever been skunked down there. Of course, there had been heavy weather the day before and more was on its way. We were running out Indian Pass toward the Gulf when I throttled back. The clouds were building, the wind had picked up and there were whitecaps outside. “Let’s tuck into this cove and get out of the wind,” I said. “I don’t like the way it looks out there.” Two drifts later I heard the thunder. “Reel up, guys,” I said. “We’re heading back toward the ramp.” My plan was to get closer to home and maybe stop and fish a couple more spots that have been good to me. Uuhuh! The clouds got bigger and blacker. More thunder. We got to the ramp at the Rod & Gun Club and I got the boat loaded. BOOM. The rain started and never stopped. It got so bad on the drive back to Venice that my flashers were on and sometimes I was at a crawl on I-75.To make matters worse, I hadn’t eaten much that day OR Thursday, and my blood-sugar levels had crashed. I had to really focus on the driving (compounded, of course, by the weather) and by the time I got home I was shaking so badly I could barely flip a light switch. That happened to me a couple of months ago, when Kate and the dogs were still down here with me, and I THOUGHT I had learned my lesson. Sorta like when I was a kid and my grandmother would yell “EAT, EAT!” Who knew how right she was! A sandwich and a lay-down was all it took to set me straight within a bit more than an hour. But it was scary stuff and the moral of this story is “Don’t Be This Dumb!” Make sure you have enough fuel in your system to keep running on all cylinders. As usual, I’m spending today and tomorrow in the Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters fly shop because I really don’t like to guide on weekends unless it’s mandatory. I’ll get some bugs tied—maybe even some trout stuff since I hope to get home not long after a tarpon trip I have booked July 10 with Mike Vallis from the UK. Speaking of which… ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE Ghost, the 12-year-old, and Heart, the eternal puppy at 2-years-old, are keeping Kate hopping. Literally. Up from her editing chair to put them into the 800-square-foot pen. Back up from her computer screen to let them in for nappy-time in their crates. Back up from the chair when there’s a whine that signals “Mom—I drank a lot of water and need to go back outside.” And so it goes. “But Heart’s showing signs of growing up,” Kate told me last night, after I’d recovered from my “crash.” “He’s getting calmer. Doesn’t leap up as much. And he’ll lay down here on the kitchen window seat and sleep. “He’s still not much of a guard dog, though. The FedX truck pulls up and he never barks. I think it’s because Ghost can’t hear very well anymore and she sleeps so soundly. She doesn’t react the way she used to, so he doesn’t have a role model to learn from that when somebody pulls up to the back door you bark like crazy. “But, he’s coming along.” Which is a very good thing. Since grouse season will only be two months away once I finally get home! I have days open for float trips on the Au Sable and Manistee rivers during the “Hopper Hatch” in late July and August, and for the beetles, crickets and ants in early September. Check your schedule. Always remember the immortal words of Sparse Gray Hackle: “The trout do not rise in Greenlawn Cemetery.” Tight Loops, Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 20th, 2009 |
RECORDED: 
90 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 20, 2009 I’ll tell you all about the marvelous fishing we’ve been having in a moment. Tarpon everywhere. Big trout. Ladyfish. And “an old home week” morning. But first, I’ve gotta say the biggest news in the past two weeks—for me at least—is that a lump on my chest is not cancerous! Having gone through that whole scene with Kate five years ago, I DEFINITELY was not looking forward to an encore. I called Dr. Melinda Beth Hart, who took care of Kate, and she got me right in. Sonogram inconclusive. “Since you’re here, let’s do a biopsy. Just so we know what we’re dealing with.” “Do we really have to do this,” I say. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to, but we really should know what we’re dealing with.” Okay, I say and she jabs a needle the size of the space shuttle into me. Hurt like hell. Then she tells me “this is going to sound like a dentist’s drill” Four holes later she says “you might experience some bruising.” Right. My right tit is still as purple as an eggplant! THEN she says I need a mammogram. Uuhuh. So I get squished and squashed for about a half hour on both sides. BUT!!!!! Everything came back clean and I’m still gonna be taking you fishing and telling you very politically incorrect jokes and going grouse hunting and generally having a very fine time in This Wonderful Life. Speaking of which. This is probably the best tarpon season in the last three or maybe four. Lots of fish. Eating fish, I mean. Lots of jumps. Plenty of action and excitement. First, though, I’ve gotta tell you about Fran and Joe Roberto, and their kids Nate and Melissa. I get a phone call from Bob Wiser, who’s been working with me at Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters. “I met these people on the beach at Siesta Key,” Bob says, “and they want to book a charter. Here’s the phone number.” Humm. A 330 area code. Ohio. Where I was born and raised. So I dial and Fran answers. We chat a minute and I ask, “so where are you from in Ohio?” “Little town called Warren,” she says. “Near Youngstown.” A pause. Then I tell her “I was born in Warren. But grew up in Niles” A pause. “NO WAY!” she yells. “My husband grew up in Niles!” So, we spent a morning catching fish and talking about all the people we knew and grew up with and some like Richard Albarini (who owned THE restaurant in the area) who died. Melissa caught the most fish (she kept track) and we had a lot of laughs. Which is how it’s supposed to be. Anyway, we caught a whole bunch of fish that morning in the Intracoastal Waterway around Nokomis and Venice. The next day—my 60th birthday, by the way—I got the news that everything was clean and green! This week I got Tom Ladimir and his wife, Gladys, surrounded by a horde of tarpon on the Myakka River. Gladys was in the dreary throes or Dramamine and didn’t participate much, but Tom hooked two poons and was shocked at the number of fish around us. Yesterday my ophthalmologist, Mark Johnson, hooked his first-ever tarpon on a fly. It was a really magnificent fish, well over a hundred pounds. He set the hook hard. But kept too much pressure in his excitement and it broke off at the 20-pound class tippet. “You are immortal,” he said as we were no-waking back to the ramp. “That fish and this day will live forever in my mind.” Pretty good morning, I’d say. ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE Kate says a raccoon has been hanging around the bird feeders up at the Michigan house driving the puppy (two years old) absolutely CRAZY. “That coon comes to the feeders about 9:30 every night and Heart goes absolutely berserk! Runs the length of the (36-foot-long) porch constantly. I mean his tongue is distended when I finally get him back into the house. “Fortunately, the coon doesn’t appear rabid at this point. BUT, you might have to take extreme measures whenever you DO get back home!” Ah, yes. Home. Anybody out there interested in catching some very large brown trout on hopper flies up on the Manistee or Au Sable Rivers in Michigan during July or August? Let me know. Kate, Ghost and Heart would be VERY happy. Me too. But, I’ll stay in Florida chasing tarpon till August 1 if need be. See you soon—one place or the other! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 7th, 2009 |
RECORDED:
85 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 7, 2009
It’s been blowing and raining hard the past couple of days, but tarpon are absolutely EVERYWHERE! They’re just off the beaches of Casey Key, Venice, and Manasota Key, and they’re inside all of the creeks and rivers.
Fortunately, the forecast is for clearing skies and hardly any wind for the foreseeable future. Which means Bob Pascal and his ladyfriend Terry "should" have an enjoyable day on Tuesday. I certainly HOPE so, since he couldn’t break away from his world-famous St. Michael’s lodge in Maryland last month and generously gave the days to a mutual friend from Nokomis, Bob DeBoer.
Unfortunately, when Bob fished with me we were once again surrounded by fish with a bad case of "lockjaw."
One day later, Rande Yeager had four "grabs" with flies, but just didn’t get a solid hook-set on any. "Setting the hook on these tarpon is like setting the hook on the side of this Hewes Redfisher," I told him. "Slam the hook home with your line hand, then bang him boom-boom-boom with the rod."
His son, Brooks ("I tell everybody I named him after the finest third-baseman in the history of baseball," Rande says) made up for it the next morning, though—in spades!
We got onto the water at 6am, and in less than 15 minutes Brooks hooked a 50-pounder. Thirty minutes later he brought it to the boat and that tarpon absolutely went berserk when I reached down to lip it. Thrashing, churning and finally crashing away, it totally slimed me!
So, no Pentax Moment for posterity. Except in everybody’s mind.
Of course, things got incredibly exciting a little while later. Tarpon kept milling around everywhere. Rande and Brooks were sharing the trip with another of my regular clients, Mark Goodnight, of Charlotte NC. The anticipation level was off the charts.
Finally, Brooks grunted. "Got one," he said, and line peeled off the reel. One HUGE jump later a magnificent tarpon in the hundred-pound class was six feet out of the water and then off the line. Turns out Brooks had tightened the drag a tad too tight. BIIIIIIIING!!!
"Damn," he said, with a bit of a tremble in his voice. "I sure would have liked to keep him on just a little bit longer!" A beautiful fish, to be sure. Rande was so thrilled that Brooks got into those fish that he barely wet a line. Mark, on the other hand, was frustrated. So many fish, and no hookup.
Rande and Brooks could only spend a couple of hours that morning, and the rest of the day Mark was casting to fish that simply wouldn’t open their mouths. "I’m gonna take up GOLF," he wailed at one point. "And that boy hooked TWO!"
But, a couple of days later (when he was SUPPOSED to be back in Charlotte), he yelled from the dock where was sitting on his bucket of lures. Capt. John and I had decided to break our two-year (or was it THREE) streak of not fishing together. Our guide schedules are so conflicting that we never get a chance to share a boat ride.
This time, we each had Thursday morning open and decided we were going fishing. Sort of. We each had three "grabs" but hadn’t put any silver into the air when Mark recognized me and called out.
"Let’s go get Mark," I said. "He fishes with me a lot. Give him a bit of a freebie."
"Tell you what," John replied. "Drop me off and fish him for a while before you come to my house." I was having trolling motor issues (again—as usual) and John was going to zap an ohm meter on the various electrical items.
Poor Mark. Still dozens of fish with no hookups.
"I guess I’ve just got bad karma," he drawled.
Nope. It’s just tarpon time! Have I told you I hate fish?
ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE
Ghost—who’s 12—and Heart—who turns two on Saturday think it’s bird season!
Kate says the weather up in Michigan has been absolutely horrible. "You wouldn’t be guiding with the weather this cold," she told me AGAIN today. "I can’t imagine any brown drakes coming off with the air temps in the 30s at night and barely 50 during the day."
BRRRRRRR!
Kate said that when the dogs came in after being in the 800-square-foot pen for a couple of hours, Ghost ran right over to her cozy little nest next to baseboard heater and curled up. "I think she figured Heart would try to claim it," Kate said, "and she wasn’t having ANY of that!"
Smart dog. Of course, she always has been. Which is why she’s a legend among grouse hunters in northern Michigan. Made her first retrieve at 21 weeks old and has absolutely beaten herself up damned near every hunting season since. God, I can’t imagine the pain of losing her.
And the puppy is still ALL puppy. "He’s been going NUTS over the mourning doves," Kate said. "Gets up on his hind legs and looks out the dining room windows when he sees them at the bird feeder. Dances around on his hind legs and whines."
Yep. He’s gonna be a good one. And I’m gonna try real hard to never look down on him in comparison to Ghost. Of course, I might not have to. The boy has a nose on him. I just have to keep him in the same county.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - May 24th, 2009 |
RECORDED:
83 °
FISHING: Excellent
MAY 24, 2009 Tarpon season is in full swing here in southwest Florida. We’ve got migrating spawners in the 150-pound class cruising the beaches off Casey Key, Venice, Manasota Key, and Gasparilla Island. We’ve got “juvies” in the 20-to-80-pound class in the rivers. And, we’ve got very largePre-spawn snook patrolling the beaches. What a delight. Except for getting up before light. Sigh. That’s the one drawback to being a guide. Up between 3 and 4 in the morning, and then in bed about 7pm. Which is why Kate, Ghost and Heart are back in Michigan (more about them later). We’ve had some wind and rollers on the outside during the past week or so, which meant I stayed in the rivers. Where we were absolutely SURROUNDED by tarpon. I felt like George Armstrong Custer on his worst day. Tarpon, tarpon, tarpon everywhere! And I was extremely happy that Will Bouck, who lives near Grand Rapids, Michigan, boated his first tarpon ever on a black-and-purple streamer pattern. As you can see from his grin on the Featured Photo he was one very happy angler. One of the most important things Will learned during our two days together was that keeping the rod tip high on the backcast makes all the difference in the world. “Stab the sun with your rod tip,” Lefty Kreh told me many, many years ago. “Keep the tip way up in the air. Then stop the tip about six feet above the water on the forward stroke.” What I try to point out to my anglers who drive the rod tip too low with a sidearm sweeping motion is that you have to remember basic physics. (Which I regret not studying hard enough when I was in school!) You have to stop the rod tip high enough above the water surface in order to let the line travel through the air. Common sense dictates that if you drop the rod tip low to the water on your forward stroke you not only “open” the loop into a wide C-shape (destroying your line velocity), you also simply don’t give the fly line enough room to travel through. Bottom line: longer casts mean you reach fish who haven’t been spooked by the boat, the angler, the guide, or the rod swinging through the air! Which, in turn, leads to more hookups. I went through the very same evolutionary process when I started fishing salt water 14 years ago. I was a small-stream Michigan trout guy whose longest cast (with a 4-weight) was maybe 30 feet. Distance? You gotta be kidding me! But one month down here tossing lead-eye flies with an 8-weight showed me the flaws in my preparedness. Like most northern trout anglers I guide, it was a very real revelation. Now add a 12-weight rod to the equation! Anyway, Will worked and worked and worked and finally jumped (and landed) his tarpon! Gary Sibbald, from Ontario, had been down fishing with me the week before and landed a bunch of fish, including a very fat spotted sea trout. But the tarpon just wouldn’t co-operate for him, either with fly or spinning gear. Gene Kahn and Steve Nelson suffered similar frustrations—tarpon that had us absolutely surrounded and would NOT eat live crabs. Go figure! But, I keep threatening to have T-shirts printed up with a succinct phrase emblazoned across the front: “It’s Pronounced Guide Not God” Gotta get to the shop----OH, yeah! Kate’s doing great—looking for a hatch of very special flies out front of the house every afternoon. And Ghost, who turned 12 years old last week, is frisky and frolicking. She’s even bedeviling Heart, who’ll be two years old next month. They had a special event a few nights ago when a bear was lurking around the house. Kate said Ghost was roaring and Heart was walking the length of our 36-foot screened porch on his hind legs! Sure do miss them, but hey—it’s Tarpon Time! You do what you’ve gotta do. Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Charlotte Harbor Area - May 10th, 2009 |
RECORDED:
90 °
FISHING: Excellent
MAY 10, 2009 It’s Tarpon Time in Southwest Florida! Yes, the big silver beasts are back for their annual spawning migration, and seem to have begun littering the nearshore beaches off Casey Key, Manasota Key, and Venice. Because tarpon actually are nocturnal feeders, it stands to reason that late night and very early morning hours would be the best time to present a fly that would be enticing enough to trigger a “Let’s Eat This” reaction. However, most folks watched too many re-runs of “Jaws,” and are mortally afraid of being in the dark where there could be sharks. So, the majority of our tarpon angling happens from just before dawn (yes, Virginia, there ARE sharks out here but they really WON’T bite the boat in half) and continues through the early morning. Which is why I drove 1,500 miles to take Kate, Ghost and Heart back to Michigan two weeks ago. English setters simply do not understand why Dad has to get out of bed at 3:30 in the morning and disturb their peaceful snoring. Nor do they comprehend climbing into all of our respective crates when it’s still daylight at 7pm. Double Ditto for Kate. Which is why the three of them are freezing up on the 45th parallel while I’m roasting in blazing sunshine with temps that hit 93 yesterday. But what about the *&%# FISH!!!!!! you ask. Ah, well. Yes. Bob Darnold of Sutton’s Bay, Michigan, and his nephew-by-marriage, Kurt Liederman spent three days with me last week chasing tarpon and assorted other finny creatures. We rocked & rolled outside Stump Pass on Wednesday and never saw a live fin. Bazillions of tarpon were running silent and deep below us in the nearshore Gulf (according to my Garmin 172C), but wouldn’t come up top. Finally, when Bob nearly pitched off the deck of my Hewes Redfisher, we headed back inside Lemon Bay. Spanish mackerel and a variety of other finned animals came to the proffered flies and jigs—particularly a couple of cobia! I had glanced behind the boat and saw two large brown shapes floating at the surface. “Cobia,” I yelled, and Kurt made an absolutely perfect cast. The smaller of the two—a mere 30-pounder!—immediately ate the glass minnow imitation and for the next hour Kurt deftly played that fish on an ultra-light rod rigged with 10-pound line and a 20-pound bite tippet. Meanwhile, the other cobia—which must have weighed in at more than 60 pounds—kept nudging the hooked fish, and generally was curiously wondering what was up with his buddy. We got that cobia to the boat dozens of times, but always JUST out of netting reach. I did touch the leader at one point, so it counts as a legal catch, but after just over an hour the line SNAPPPPED and everybody groaned. Kurt was impressed with that fish, but tarpon was the name of the game and Bob was concerned about his “sea legs in the rolling water of the Gulf.” So, we went to Plan B. Which was the Myakka River, where scores of juvenile poons in the 10 to 50-pound class abound. With some 80-pounders thrown into the mix to keep everybody’s adrenaline rush at peak levels. I guess Kurt described the situation quite aptly when he said, “if tarpon were torpedoes this boat would have been sunk a hundred times.” Simply put, they were EVERYWHERE. Tarpon to the left of us. Tarpon to the right of us. Tarpon exploding out from underneath the boat in a muddy swirl. And yes indeed, Kurt jumped two on Thursday—both in the 60-pound class. Alas, he did not heed the guide’s warning that “setting the hook on a tarpon is like driving it into the side of this boat.” We got the jump, but both fish threw the hook. Friday was MOS. Only without the jumps. We had big guys constantly around us the entire time we were in the main river, and had several different pods of 10-to-20-pounders frolicking back and forth in one of the residential canals. They absolutely would NOT, however, eat an artificial offering. Capt. Gospo had the same frustrating experience with his clients that day. “Fish all OVER the place,” he lamented, “but maybe this damned full moon got them all screwed up.” Who knows? They’re fish. I HATE fish! Or, as my old Chilean friend Oscar Feliu once muttered, “Damned fish are just like women. One night YES, next night NO!” Well, I guess Gary Sibbald will find out this week when he comes back down from Ontario. He’s got a raging case of Tarpon Fever, and I’ve got the cure! ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE Kate says the Little Guy—who turns two years old next month—has a raging case of Bird Fever. “He runs from window to window looking at the mourning doves and whining pitifully. It’s still only 45 degrees up here, so it feels like bird season. “Looks like it, too,” she said. “The trees are all pretty bare, but at least the daffodils are starting to bloom, so there’s SOME color out there.” Ghost, who will be 12 years old on Friday, is acting like a dog half that age, according to Kate. “Except she’s been digging big holes in the dog pen and got her nose absolutely impacted with sand and dirt. Poor thing could hardly breathe, and kept sneezing constantly.” Sigh. Two months before I’m roaming the woods and waters of northern Michigan with all of them. At least I’ve got several hundred thousand tarpon to keep me company down here! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Lemon Bay - April 20th, 2009 |
RECORDED:
80 °
FISHING: Excellent
April 20, 2009 WHEW! I apologize for taking so long to update the fishing report, but it’s been really crazy around here between guiding and taking over running the Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters fly shop. (More on that later) What a whirlwind (figuratively and literally) we’ve been going through down here. I’ve been guiding nearly every day, and I’m happy to report that despite some days of wind we’ve mostly been doing pretty darn good! Lessee. During the past couple of weeks we’ve hit some highs and some lows—like with David McCall on April 2, when he caught some baitfish, a sailcat, and watched a bunch of baby tarpon ignore his flies. Definitely not one of the days I like to brag about! At least the next morning I was able to teach one of my long-term clients the ins and outs of shooting clay pigeons on the skeet range! John Freeland took to it like the proverbial duck to water, and can’t wait to get outfitted with a 20-bore. A helluva lot better than banging around a stupid little white ball with a stick. I mean, ultimately, there’re gonna be English setters involved with those bang-sticks. (More on setters latter!) The wind hit us the next couple of days, so I got settled into the vagaries of running the fly shop now that Kevin’s gone back to the golf course business. Lots of niggling details to figure out—as you can imagine—but the shop looks great and we had nearly 20 people yesterday for our casting clinic. Once the wind laid down on Wednesday the 8th, I finally got Jack McConnell and his son John onto the water and into some nice fat trout and some feisty ladyfish. I know, John—the photos of your trout and dad’s big ladyfish will be coming soon. It’s just been SO dad-limmed BUSY!!!!! Fortunately, John sent an e-mail to me a couple of days ago so I have his address—since my not-quite-two-year-old puppy, Heart, ate the biz card with John’s e-dress. Of course, Heart ALSO ate my money clip two days ago! Yeah, American greenbacks in shreds, and my driver’s license in shards! Remember telling Teacher “The dog ate my homework?” Gotta hope I don’t get stopped later this week when I drive Kate and the setters back to Michigan (more on that later) or I’LL be using that line on a State Trooper!!! Bob Olson got an education in saltwater fly fishing the next day and even managed to land a fish. Which made both of us happy. Especially since he spent 36 years in the United States Coast Guard, and finished his career as Superintendent of the Coast Guard Academy. Unfortunately. David Ruimveld, an outdoors artist from Michigan whom I’ve known for more than 20 years didn’t fare quite so well. “Strip-strike,” I implored! David, who’s fished for bonefish and other salty creatures just didn’t have the strip-strike thingy going for him, though. “Don’t say it!” he’d say. Time after time. After time. At least his pal caught a couple of very fat spotted sea trout so The Boat’s honor (and MINE) was upheld. Bill Nelson, wife Si and her 10-year-old son Jack came aboard on the 10th. Quinn caught the first fish, the last fish, and a bunch more in-between. Bill finally got on the board with a nice sea trout up in Blackburn Bay. Talk about “upholding your honor!” Matt Parsons came down from Michigan, where he’s finishing his PhD. at MSU, last Monday, and we had a fine time catching fish of various species—including a very fat sea trout and an equally impressive sailcat. It was like “Old Home Week” talking about rivers we’ve fished, greasy-spoons where we’ve gulped down nasty chili (the Sportsman’s Bar in Baldwin came immediately to mind), and assorted River-Rats we’ve known/associated with/avoided. I took good friend and fellow Certified Casting Instructor Pete Taylor out at 4am the following day for snook under the lights, and we were absolutely swarmed with fish. What a spectacle. We even caught several! Which made Pete’s night. Especially since he’s leaving for Maryland tomorrow! Then I did a “sandwich” with Doug Eckerd and his pal Bob Fabiszewski. Fished them a full day on Wednesday, then took Don Fieghy out on Thursday before running Doug and Bob under the lights that night. Talk about sleep deprivation! But, we caught fish and that’s what counts. Friday it was Ray Czapiga, who’s moving down here from Connecticut next month. He just sold a Polish market that’s been in his family since 1918—which did TWO TONS of kielbasa this Easter holiday. “I never want to look at a kielbasa again,” he said. “I just wanna catch fish.” Which he did! Today, after finishing a project to keep the @*&%% squirrels from eating the tomatoes and HOT peppers Kate is growing for me (it’s a 6X3X6 wire enclosure) I took Doug Fairbanks to Lemon Bay. Doug’s the president of the Upper Manistee River Association, and he bought a trip I donated to the association fundraiser either for the Manistee River or down here. “I’ve floated the Manistee with you before,” he said, “so now we’ll do Florida.” He caught pompano, ladyfish, catfish, and finished the day with a HUGE spotted sea trout! “It’s like being back on the Manistee,” he said. “Except for the catfish!” Tomorrow it’s “Frick & Frack”—Jack Thorpe and Ron Pisani from upstate New York—two of my longtime regulars. Then it’s time to load the Tahoe and take Kate, Ghost, and Heart back to Michigan. Where THEY will revel in the cool northwoods while I head back for at least two months of guiding tarpon anglers! A tough life—but somebody’s gotta do it. Which reminds me! I still have some days open here and there in May and June if you’re ready to fulfill that lifelong dream of catching a tarpon!!!! And don’t forget the glorious “Hopper days” in Michigan during late July, August and early September before it’s that Most Glorious Time Of The Year: Grouse and woodcock in October!!!!! Check your schedule and call me to book some dates! Lemme know! Tight Loops.Capt. Tony
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