|
Manistee River - August 22nd, 2007 |
RECORDED: 
80 °
FISHING: Excellent
August 22, 2007
WHEW!!!!!!!!
Manistee River Heart—“Heart” for short—came into our lives August 13 and the world as we knew it has tilted several degrees off its axis!
He’s nine weeks old today, and what a handful! He learned his name and was (mostly) housebroken after just two days. Smart as a whip and wild as a newborn colt.
And the very BEST part is that Ghost hasn’t killed him. Seriously. We really didn’t know how our 10-year-old English setter would react to this upstart puppy. She was scared by a pack of large growly dogs when she was just a pup, and doesn’t interact well with most other dogs. Except males. Or when she’s hunting grouse and woodcock—which come before any irritating canine.
Which is why we decided upon a tiny male English setter pup.
Guess what! Ghost rolled him over and put the “fear of Ghost” into him about the second day here, and presto! He’s TOTALLY in awe of her, and she’s beginning to see the benefit of having a puppy to chase around the acreage.
The only downside is that between guide trips and taking care of the pup (plus making sure Ghost doesn’t feel left out) my time on the computer has suffered and I haven’t updated my fishing report lately.
So, the first thing I’m going to say before I digress again is that fishing on the Manistee and Au Sable Rivers has been excellent. Tricos, hoppers, ants, and beetles are performing their usual late-season magic.
Now, I’ll digress and tell you about my *#th high school reunion, which took place on the 11th, just before we got Heart from Classic Pointe Kennels south of Jackson, MI.
I hadn’t been to one in *# years, but Kate and I had a blast. Close to 100 of my 300+ classmates showed up, and the vast majority of them were old pals. You know how it goes in high school—some are close friends, some are “hey, howya doing?”, some are a nod and a smile, and some you never even put a name with the face.
We had a low-key deal at a private park, and Ghost got to mingle with everybody and be adored and worshiped—she just LOVES people, you see. And they, in turn, adore her.
Anyway, she got rubbed and petted several thousand times, and enjoyed herself as much as I did seeing folks with whom I literally grew up, and played football with, and dated, and…well, ahem!
OK, OK. Here’s the fishing report I promised.
Tricos have been abundant on the Au Sable in the early mornings, with peak spinner falls between 10 and 11 am. We even had a very few Tricos on the Manistee yesterday (August 21) when I was doing a “Rookie School” for Cathy Harder and her 13-year-old son, Max.
And, I’m very grateful to say, Max used one of my Trico spinner patterns to land his first-ever trout on a fly. I sent that fly home with him as a souvenir, along with a petrified shark tooth from Manasota Key down in Florida.
The Tricos are mostly gone now, and the daytime fishing revolves around hoppers, ants and beetles.
Night fishing has been excellent on the White Flies—Ephron lukon—down below Mio, and with mice and sculpin patterns near the log jams and deeper holes.
Steve Slikkers, a surgeon from Traverse City, scored a fat 15-inch brown on the Manistee last week on a “Chernobyl Hopper,” and Rex Farver came up from Fort Wayne to battle gale-force winds and boat a 14-inch brown.
Lots of rises when I was guiding Col. Derek Grossman and Lt. Chris Randall of the Michigan National Guard, as well as when Scott Risner floated the Au Sable with me earlier in the month.
Line management—as is common with first-time “floaters”—was the major issue when it came to actually hooking the dozens of fish we raised. Either too much slack riding the currents, or “ripping their lips off” resulted in many fish NOT coming into the boat.
Steve Slikkers hadn’t wet a line for two full years before his wife, Holly, bought this float trip as a father’s day gift. “I sure needed this day on the water,” Steve said. “My life has been consumed with babies and operations.”
He’s a surgeon at Munson Medical Center in Traverse City, and does “hernias and breast cancer, mostly,” he said. “Landing this beautiful brown trout has made my whole day! Heck, my whole YEAR!”
Steve and his father-in-law are going to chase grouse and woodcock with me and Ghost and Abner (Rex’ adopted four-year-old setter) in October, and he and Holly and the kids probably will spend time with me in Florida during their expected stay at A Beach Retreat on Casey Key.
Speaking of Rex, he came up for the weekend the day after I guided Steve, and Rex immediately fell in love with Heart. “I could take this little guy home with me,” he said several times. “HARRUMPH!!!” Said Kate. I just smiled.
“He’s a nice dog,” Rex repeated several times. “He’ll be a good one.” Apparently, Ghost is beginning to think so, too. After that initial “rollover” she’s been exceptionally good (except for a couple of curled lips).
Heart has responded with utmost respect, and when in doubt rolls over on his back in absolute surrender. Ghost, I’m extremely happy to report, has been in return kind, cordial, and engagingly playful.
OK, OK, more fishing stuff:
Let’s see. The Upper Manistee River Association annual meeting is Saturday evening, and we’re hoping to raise a few bucks for river restoration and habitat improvement. I donated a float trip, and—since I’m the auctioneer—I plan to make “somebody” ante up BIG for the day on the water.
Yes, you CAN e-me with a bid for the float trip any time from now until 2pm Saturday! Minimum $200.
I’ve got several more trips in the next week, and Heart is becoming more and more manageable every day, so I promise to get back to more regular postings!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
AuSable River - July 28th, 2007 |
RECORDED: 
81 °
FISHING: Excellent
JULY 28, 2007
MICHIGAN
It’s been “Rookie Week” for me. Which is great! I love teaching beginners the nuances of fly fishing because it’s so rewarding to watch them develop into competent casters in only an hour or two.
But first let me tell you about the Roscommon River Festival in which I was invited to participate. This was the first year it was held, right on the banks of the Au Sable South Branch in downtown Roscommon.
What a pleasure! The folks putting it on really went all out for the vendors—even driving my truck several blocks away to the parking area. And they couldn’t have been nicer all day, getting my truck at the end of the event and even helping me load up.
I was a manufacturer’s rep in the fly fishing industry for 20 years, and can’t remember when I was treated so well! The turnout was good despite the on-off rain and drizzle all day. I’ve been invited back for next year’s Festival, and definitely plan to participate.
Now, back to the Newbies.
James Salem, concierge at Treetops Resort in Gaylord, called several weeks ago and asked if I could do a casting clinic for John Davis and his family members. “Yes, James, I can.”
So a week ago I met the Davis Clan at one of the remote ponds on Treetops property and we set about the business of learning to fling a fly line.
John, Jim, and Tom comprised the adult portion of the group. Then came nine-year-old Rachel—our lone female—and young cousins Justin, Austin, Alex, John, and Chris.
The day dawned overcast, with gray cumulous clouds building in the northwest. I pulled up the radar and it looked good after the one squall moved through. At least, that’s what I was hoping.
Sure enough, after a brief sprinkle that ended just as the group pulled up in a Treetops van, it was hot, sunny and a bit muggy the rest of the morning.
I did the usual introduction/demonstration, then worked with each caster as the others watched and (hopefully) absorbed the information.
By noon, when everyone was hungry and ready for lunch before heading home, the fledglings looked pretty good. Amazingly enough, RACHEL was throwing the nicest line, followed by Austin—who’s 13.
All seemed to enjoy the day, and plan of getting back for more fly fishing and possibly a day of upland gunning for grouse and woodcock in October.
A few days later it was Dave Gillhouse and his 19-year-old son, Mike. We had planned on a full day float down the Au Sable, but when we stopped at Stephan’s Bridge for lunch I was concerned about the billowing clouds and decided to call Kate.
“I was JUST getting ready to call you,” she said. “We just had torrential rain and pea-sized hail here in Deward. And the radar is showing a lot of heavy weather that should hit you in about an hour.”
Hummm. An hour. And once we leave Stephan’s it’s FOUR hours to Wakeley Bridge.
“Guys,” I said, “I’m an aircraft pilot as well as a Coast Guard-licensed Charter Captain. And the first rule in aviation is the safety of your passengers. We’re going home!”
So, I walked the quarter-mile to Gates Au Sable Lodge and one of Rusty Gates’ clients in the fly shop drove me to the truck. Sure enough, just as we got back to The Fly Factory it started POURING rain.
“Good call,” Dave said.
“Yeah,” Mike added. “Sitting out there in that stuff wouldn’t have been ANY fun at all!”
We did, however, finish our float two days later and Mike caught some browns and brookies. Dad never had fly fished and was content to watch Mike. And Mike got an education in not snapping his wrist, which had been the cause of countless line-leader-fly jumbles and tangles.
Two days later, I had Martin Pool and His Three Sons—Alex, Mike, and Joe. All three so new that I fitted Mike and Joe with waders and boots, which I loaned to them so they’d keep their feet dry the next few days before going home to Swanton, Ohio.
We went through the whole “school” routine, and they did pretty well. It was fun to watch the distinct personalities.
Dad and Alex were really working hard to learn the art.
Mike was the “naturalist”—reveling in eating raspberries and blueberries, and examining the flora and looking for fauna.
Joe? Well let’s just say he’s “all boy and full of life!”
Steve Walker wanted a full day on the Au Sable, so we did Thendara Landing to Wakeley and it was an absolutely gorgeous day. The Tricos were hatching and falling and the fish were eating and life was good.
Steve needed a little time to become accustomed to casting from a moving boat, but eventually settled into the pattern and boated a couple of Kodak-Moment Fish.
Yesterday it was back to Rookie School with Dennis McCarthy and Greg Elliott. They grew up together in Maumee, Ohio, but now Dennis lives in downtown Chicago and Greg’s in Cleveland.
They have a pal who’s addicted to fly fishing, so they decided this was the time for them to learn. They both worked hard and picked up the basics of casting pretty fast.
Then we headed to the water for the wading lessons and instruction in where to cast, why to cast there, and how to re-tie flies and tippet after “landing” tag alders and cedar trees.
“I never realized there was so much to it,” Greg said several times. “But I really like it. We’ll have to get the gear and just do it!”
And, really, that says it all!
OH! An update on Ghost’s new little brother: Manistee River Heart, as he will be called, is six weeks old as of Thursday. After my *#th High School Reunion on the 11th, we’ll drive to Woodburn, Indiana, to visit with good friends Rex Farver and JD & Ellen Korte before getting the pup on the 13th.
What a madhouse it’s going to be around here this October! Ghost—queen of the house—along with the new puppy, and Rex’ setter Abner, who will join us for my guide trips. THREE setters in the house. Ouch!
By the way, the grouse population looks like it going to be EXCELLENT this season! I have a few days left in October, so check your schedule and let’s compare open dates.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Manistee River - July 13th, 2007 |
RECORDED: 
70 °
FISHING: Great
JULY 13, 2007
MICHIGAN
To say that the weather here has been “a bit unsettled’ is to understate the situation greatly!
Wind. Clouds. Rain. Sunshine (while it’s raining!). High of 88 degrees. Highs of 62 degrees. Lows of 40 degrees.
And that’s in less than a week!
The fishing, however, has been pretty wonderful. Sadly, the “catching” part has left a bit to be desired. But, newbies to the sport and newbies to the art of floating these rivers need a bit of “indoctrination time.”
At least Jack Hise and Jim Flamming had perfect weather for their half-day float with me last week. We did the Manistee between M-72 and CCC Bridge, and the guys raised dozens of fish.
A few smallish brooks and browns came to the boat, and some larger brooks and browns were hooked and lost. And a TON of brooks and browns rose to the offerings but were not impaled.
Actually, it was pretty much like their trip with me last summer. Lots of rises, but not many in hand. This year was supposed to be a night-time Hex trip, but Jack’s move from Michigan to Tennessee bollixed up the schedule, so he and Jim decided to wait until the FAOL
Fish-In.
NEXT year, guys!
The following day, my old compatriot, Jack Helder, drove up from Lansing for a short weekend of fishing and high-cholesterol food.
He arrived at 11 in the morning, and after lolling around The Lodge (better known as Blue Lakes Junction) for a few hours, we drove south to fish the Manistee between M-72 and CCC Bridge. It was mid-day. And sunny. And hot. And neither of us was particularly burned up by the idea of catching a mess of fish.
After about an hour of prospecting some of the finest “Big Fish” water in America, I had one fish on and a powerful thirst. I hadn’t been sitting in Jim Powers’ screened-in porch drinking ice-cold beer for 15 minutes when Jim looked over my shoulder and yelled for Jack to join us.
We talked about the river some, and discussed the vagaries of fish. Then I told Jim to follow us back to Deward. “I’m making gumbo,” I told him. “Shrimp, smoked andouille sausage, oysters, and all of the other good stuff that makes gumbo so great.”
“I’ll be right behind you!” he said, grabbing his hat and his truck keys.
Oh, my. Did we ever feast! I must confess to making a rather LARGE gumbo. In fact, Jack took some home to his wife, MJ, and there was plenty left for Kate to have a meal when she got back from her five-day “Girls Gone Wild” vacation with two high school girl-pals. It was their antiquing-flea marketing version of a high school reunion. No, I dare NOT tell you WHICH year high school reunion!
They had a blast, and vowed to get together somewhere every other year. It was great to see Kate relax after everything she’s been through these past four years!
Then the weather turned bad Sunday night and stayed poor Monday and Tuesday. Kate was back editing manuscripts, and I did busy-work on the computer.
By Wednesday, when I met Jared Isaccson and Kevin Riggs for an anticipated full day float on the Manistee, things had mostly calmed down. There were times, though, when wind gusts started blowing the Longboat back upstream.
This was only the fourth time these Duke med-school friends had ever been fly fishing. Gotta blame the guide for not asking about experience levels. We SHOULD have spent the time wading Deward, where I could have taught them the nuances of casting, wading, and fishing a trout stream.
Instead, we spent a lot of time picking flies out of trees, re-tying tippets, and untangling fly lines.
We did not, however, unhook any of the 20-or-so fish that rose to the flies they did put onto the water. Oh, and we turned the trip into a half-day float when it became obvious that at the present rate of travel we’d end up on the water nearly 11 hours.
Fortunately, I was able to get Jim Powers (still stuffed from gumbo) to help me retrieve my truck and trailer to enable the shortened float.
The following day found me on the Au Sable with Richard Owen and his wife, Donna Sue.
Richard’s in the area to do a “Cast & Blast” article for Sporting Clays Magazine, for which he writes the back-page column every issue. It’s a unique aspect. I guided him on the “Cast” portion, and he’s guiding ME on the “Blast” part.
See, despite years of skeet shooting, and guiding grouse and woodcock hunters, I’ve never shot a round of sporting clays. And, since there’s a jim-dandy clays course twenty miles from here—in Lewiston—the logistics worked out beautifully.
Actually, our day started out extremely promising. We had trico spinners on the water and plenty of feeding fish. Donna hooked a smallish brook trout pretty quickly, but then the fish just would not swallow an artificial fly until much later when she boated a beautiful, fat, 8-inch brookie.
Richard, meanwhile, had several hookups out of more than a dozen rises, but couldn’t manage to put one in the boat.
“This fishing is just too technical for us, Donna,” he said as we were unloading the riverboat at the Wakeley Bridge landing. Yeah? Well let’s just see how “technically” I fare on the sporting clays course come Sunday!
I’ll let you know.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Manistee River - July 3rd, 2007 |
RECORDED:
73 °
FISHING: Excellent
July 3, 2007
MICHIGAN
Lots of great news to report!
First, Judge Dennis Murphy ruled in favor of the plaintiffs in the Kolke Creek litigation. That means WE WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Murphy’s ruling blocks Merit Energy from pumping 1.5 million gallons PER DAY of “treated” water from the Manistee River watershed into the Au Sable River watershed.
Instead, the contaminated water (it’s laced with benzene, toluene, ethylbenzene, and xylene) will be treated on site at the Hayes 22 Central Production Facility, or in an infiltration pond on a 40 acre parcel that Merit quietly bought nearby.
Ironically, even while Merit bought that property after claiming it wasn’t feasible, the company spent $400,000 constructing a pipeline that now is useless! Serves the arrogant SOB’s right!
The next important date in this case is July 11. That’s when Murphy will rule on whether or not the plaintiffs can recover all or part of their $262,000 in legal fees from Merit and the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality (who were co-defendants).
I’ll keep you appraised as developments unfold.
Now, as for the fishing!
Kate and I actually managed to sneak out for a couple hours of fishing yesterday afternoon.
We’ve both been swamped with work, and this was the first time in the two weeks since I got back from Florida that we’ve been able to wet a line.
She immediately missed a fish with a beetle pattern, but “cracked the code” pretty much the same time I did. The fish wanted yellow stoneflies!
She ended up releasing a half-dozen fish and raised more than a dozen others. “Wow, it’s great being back on the water,” she yelled.
I was slowly working my way upstream at the time, and had just released a beautiful 10-inch brook trout that ate a #18 gray caddis.
After several refusals, I tried a gray stonefly and had more refusals. When I went to the yellow stone size 16, BINGO! Four more brookies and three browns. Plus probably a dozen refusals.
I figured that wasn’t a bad tally for less than two hours, and went in search of Kate to make sure she was onto the yellow stones (we failed to bring our hand-held radios, which we normally carry for just such circumstances).
As I was heading downstream on the bank, I met Ted Gibson and his young son, Grant. They asked about the river, hatches, ease of wading, and I finally said, “let’s go find Kate. She’s a good angler, and it’s possible she worked over this stretch pretty hard.”
Kate hadn’t covered very much water, but was ready to head back to Blue Lakes Junction (our house on the river) for some home made chili I’d whipped up on Sunday.
I gave Ted and Grant a brief history of Deward as we walked back to the parking area, then Kate snipped off her yellow stone and said, “if you don’t have any of these, better take this.”
I did likewise, and dug another out of my caddis/stonefly box.
Later last night the phone rang.
“Tony, this is Ted Gibson. My son and I met you earlier? Well, I just wanted to tell you that I caught a fish on my FIRST CAST with that stonefly you gave me. Grant caught several fish, too.
“I can’t thank you enough!”
Well, Ted, plenty of other anglers have done the same for me during the 35 years I’ve been fly fishing. What goes around comes around!
Oh, yes. ANOTHER important item.
DNR field people are seeing a LOT of grouse broods! Looks like this season is going to be really, really good.
I've already started booking trips for October, so if you're interested in some fantastic grouse and woodcock gunning, don't delay getting with me!
FLORIDA
I got an e-mail with a bunch of photos from Kevin Cooke yesterday. He and Stacy were out on Monday and Kevin hooked a tarpon in the 150-class on a fly. Stacy also hooked up using a live crab.
“The darn line was wrapped around the handle of my reel, though, and he broke off almost immediately,” Kevin said.
“Lots of other boats started showing up about that time, so we went inside Lemon Bay and jumped a pod of baby poons. I got one that was about 10 pounds, and had shots at a bunch more.
“Night snook has been terrific, too. Probably the best it’s been all season.”
Kevin’s got a lot of “end-of-the-season” specials going on at Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters. Click on the LINKS dropdown at the top of my web site to access the shop’s site and check out the deals.
Till next time…
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Manistee River - June 30th, 2007 |
RECORDED:
76 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 30, 2007
MICHIGAN
Hex Season 2007 is mostly history, folks. There still are bugs to hatch on the upper stretches of the Manistee above CR612, but otherwise it’s finished.
Seems like the hatch came on time, but the bugs simply blew out of their burrows within a matter of days. Usually, we’re still staying out ‘till the wee hours through the July 4 fireworks. Not this year!
The GOOD news is that ‘hoppers, beetles, and ants will serve just fine. Just ask Detroit Free Press outdoors editor Eric Sharp. He had one heckuva floating with me last Thursday.
I think he finished up 14 fish boated out of 42 rises. That, on a day when the ONLY insects we saw were about a dozen Hex just after lunchtime!
Yep. Middle of the day. Of course, it WAS overcast at the time.
Strangely enough, NONE of those bugs were consumed by trout. Birds got every one.
But after raising and hooking quite a few fish on hoppers, we started seeing a few riseforms.
“Gotta be taking nymphs, “ said.
“Yeah,” Eric replied. “Because I sure don’t see anything floating on the surface.”
“Hey, I’ve got a fly that might work,” I said. “Gimme that tippet.”
What I tied on is a pattern I developed several years ago that incorporates three CDC feathers sandwiched between wood duck flank fibers and mottled marabou.
False cast a few times and it floats like a dry. Let it sink into the film and it looks like an emerger. Either way, it’s one DEADLY Hex pattern. Tomorrow I’ll tie a fresh one and post it in the Photo Gallery, along with the recipe in the New Patterns dropdown.
Eric was so impressed with it that he asked if I would e-him the recipe that night so he could tie a few up. Which I did.
And, his request came as no surprise, since he boated an 11-inch brookie, two 10-inch brookies, and a 9-inch brookie. Those might not sound like impressive fish, but brother in these parts an 11-inch brookie is darned respectable!
The next day, I floated Don Switzer down the same stretch of water with mostly the same results—only by half. Don boated seven of 21 rises, and the best was just before making “port”—a fat 10-inch brookie.
It took us FOREVER to release that fish. It twisted and turned and got all catywampus in the net until I finally managed to snip the net fibers and get him free.
I kept telling him, “just settle down—we both want the same thing.” But NO, he had to wiggle and squirm. Oh, well, we got a couple of quick photos for Don, and Mr. Brookie went home to his hidey-hole!
The wind was brutal today after a morning sprinkle. Calm as Midnight Mass at Mt. Carmel right now. Hmmm. Maybe I can coax Kate into going fishing for an hour or two tomorrow. Goodness it’s been FOREVER since either one of US has wet a line!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Manistee River - June 24th, 2007 |
RECORDED: 
84 °
FISHING: Excellent
June 24, 2007
MICHIGAN
GEEEZZZZZO! I left Florida with the temps in the 80s, and now I’m in Michigan with the temps in the 80s and forecast to hit 90!
The good-news part of that, however, is that the Hex Hatch on the Manistee River is PHENOMENAL this year. Duns and spentwings are all over the place between M72 and CCC Bridge.
And, ya know what? HUGE browns and very respectable brook trout are rising to the occasion.
MANY fish more than 20 inches long (the best any of my clients ever did was a 30-inch monster a couple seasons ago) are being caught each night. And the strange part is that the hatch/spinner fall is happening between 9:30 and 11pm!
Normally, we’re out until midnight or one-ish-am and I don’t get home until nearly 3am. THIS, I like. If it’s a function of global warming, global cooling, or just plain freak conditions, I’m NOT complaining. Not about this, anyway!
Daytime fishing also is excellent this time of year. Lots of Isonychia, Baetis, caddis, ants, beetles and—TA DAH!!!—grasshoppers have started flitting around.
I took 80-year-old Jim Turner out Friday afternoon for a bit of fishing, a bit of sightseeing, and a bit of reminiscing on the Au Sable.
He hadn’t been fishing at all for two years, and it was maaaaany years since he’d been on the Au Sable.
“I wondered how much it had change over the years,” he said. I guess his son and daughter had heard him ask that rhetorical question, because a couple of months ago they bought a gift certificate for him.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. “More cabins than back then, but it’s a beautiful day and a beautiful river.”
After repeatedly changing patterns, I finally “cracked the code.” The fish wanted Isonychia emergers. Jim thereafter boated a couple of brookies, and a brown, and missed two very respectable rises from obviously large fish. He didn’t much care, though.
“This was wonderful,” he said. “I don’t need to fish the whole time. I like looking at the sights. In fact, I’m reeling up now. So you can just move along.”
Hope to see you again, Jim. Guys like you know how to appreciate a fine day and a fine trout stream!
Speaking of “appreciation,” I stopped on the way home to look at the newborn puppies at Classic Pointe Kennels in Jonesville, MI. I have second pick on the four males, and two of them really looked great.
They were just 6 days old when I stopped in last Wednesday—didn’t even have their eyes open and won’t be ready to leave the litter until August 14.
Two of the males were wiggly and aggressive, even at that tender age. One is orange-ticked, the other is a tricolor with black patches over both eyes, and a white “heart” in the middle of his forehead.
The breeder, John Griffith, tells me the guy with first choice is partial to orange-ticked English setters. If we DO end up with the tricolor, I think we’ll name him Manistee River Heart. “Heart,” for short. Just like my 10-year-old, Manistee River “Ghost.”
Speaking of Ghost, we’re really keeping our fingers crossed that she’ll accept the puppy. I’ve spoiled her rotten during the four years she’s been an “only dog.” My fault. Yep. Guilty as charged.
But, ya know what? I spoil ALL my dogs. I’m a firm believer that animals (people, too!) respond a whole lot better to love than they do to fear!
FLORIDA
When last I wrote, Austin Adduci was getting ready for his first real taste of night snook fishing.
Brother, he didn’t get just a TASTE—he got the whole banquet!
It was one of those nights when the fish ate early, eagerly, and often. You know—one of those times when the guide looks up at the stars and silently says, “Thank YOU.”
Yeah, one of those nights.
It wasn’t a 50-fish night, mind you. But the action was mostly non-stop and the snook were all 20-ish-inches and full of fight. The pattern I named “Petrella’s Glass Minnow” (see the Photo Gallery and New Patterns dropdowns if you want to tie some) was the “fly du jure.”
Four hours after flushing the motor and washing down the Hewes Redfisher 18, I was up-and-at-em for tarpon with Will Hayes, his new son-in-law, Tad Godwin, and his father, Wyn Godwin.
We went looking for tarpon, and found them. But gol-dang-it those buggers would NOT open their mouths and suck down a fly!
Will admittedly is a novice fly-flinger, and didn’t really spend much time actually fishing. He mostly wanted Tad and Wyn to fish. Which they did. Nonstop.
Both are good fly casters, and it just didn’t seem fair that those tarpon wouldn’t eat. In fact, the ONLY thing we caught that day was one snook. That’s the bad news.
The good news is that it was the first snook Wyn had ever caught “so I can scratch that species off my list,” he said.
They saw dozens of tarpon and had equally numerous really good shots. It just wasn’t in the cards.
And, from what “Admiral” Parker told me an hour ago, that trend hasn’t changed.
“We’re seeing some fish, but it’s been hard getting them to eat,” he said. “Either that or some *&@#*%# runs his boat through the pod an puts them down!”
I regret to say that we’ve had more than the usual amount of Idiot Anglers—or should I say “Idiot Boat Drivers” this season. I think I’ll write an article about proper fishing techniques in the Gulf of Mexico—which are radically different from the techniques used for walleye in Minnesota or stripers and blues in New England.
Anyway, the “spawning moon” is this Saturday. That’ll send a lot of tarpon back to wherever they came here from, and Tarpon Mania will wind down until NEXT May.
Hope to see you then, if not during the winter months to chase tailing redfish, snook under the lights, spotted sea trout on the grass flats, pompano and bluefish in the passes, Spanish mackerel, Little Tunny, and King mackerel just off the beach!
In the meantime, c’mon up to Michigan—or go visit Capt. John in West Yellowstone—for some casting lessons, relaxing floats down gorgeous trout streams, and maybe even a few whoppers you can tell even bigger “whoppers” about!
I also still have a few days open in October and early November for grouse and woodcock gunners. We averaged 6.5 points/flushes per hour last season, and I expect it’ll be at least that good this Fall.
See you soon!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Venice - Snook Alley - June 9th, 2007 |
RECORDED:
86 °
FISHING: Excellent
June 9, 2007
“WAHH, WAHH, WAAAHHH!”
It’s Tarpon Time, and charter captains throughout southwest Florida hear that sort of whining and wailing just about every morning because:
A) The fish are shooting craps and eating crabs at Poontangle Inn. Which is approximately 80 nautical miles from wherever the boat’s anchored.
B) The fish are streaming by at a steady pace—hundreds of them—except they’re all about forty feet beyond casting range.
C) The fish are blowing up right next to the boat but refusing every fly, lure, jig, or crab known to man, woman, and child.
D) The wind is blowing the boat in circles so it’s impossible to stand on the casting deck and the angler’s so dizzy he/she couldn’t hit a barn door let alone a tarpon.
E) The “Whammy” is on you like that legendary black cloud that always hovered over the head of Joe BLXFPT in the long-forgotten L’il Abner cartoon strip.
Never heard of old Joe? Then maybe you met Gary Anderson (or a guy just like him) somewhere during your fishing adventures.
You know the guy I’m talking about. The original Hard Luck Kid:
Drops his worm can into the water five minutes after getting to the crick.
Breaks his brand new rod—the only one he has on the trip—while getting ready to fish.
Throws a gigantic tangle of monofilament around his reel, or gets his fly line chewed up in the trolling motor prop while making his first cast.
Or, like poor Gary, is just one plumb unlucky guy.
Of course, Gary’s gotta shoulder a bit of the blame. See, his first mistake was staying up WAYYYY too late the night before our first day on the Gulf of Mexico.
His second mistake was gulping down a large portion of semi-edible fast-food just before bedtime.
His third mistake was sharing a flats skiff (mine) with Jon Witboom, who owns Flymasters of Indianapolis, and his old army pal, Rich Castle, from Texas.
They had spent the previous morning with me on a peaceful stretch of the Myakka River, where we were presented with numerous shots at juvenile tarpon. None of them were willing to eat a fly, however, so we left.
Ultimately, we cruised around Lemon Bay for a while. A couple of tiny snook were rash enough to double-up on Gary and Rich, and moments later Jon boated a feisty ladyfish.
Not a sterling day, all things considered. But the wind had been absolutely CHURNING the Gulf and the only people who were ecstatic about being out there that day were the surfer boys & gals.
That was on Monday. Tuesday’s wind was calmer. Sort of.
Heading north out of the Venice Jetty, my Hewes Redfisher 18 was skimming the wave tops at a leisurely 18mph. Jon was leaning back comfortably on the center console seat. Rich was whistling something I could barely hear.
Gary was white as my deck.
I didn’t know that, however, until I finally pulled the boat off plane and started dishing out rods.
One to Jon. Who started getting ready for battle.
One to Gary. Who took the rod, looked at the slow rollers that were gently rocking the boat, handed the rod to Rich, promptly rolled halfway off the starboard gunwale and was quietly sick.
Very, very sick.
In fact, Gary was not a participant in the morning’s activity as several pods of tarpon cruised within shooting range. Finally, I suggested that it might be wise to get Gary back to the Venice Holiday Inn while Jon and Rich stayed with the boat.
Which, of course, effectively ended our morning of tarpon fishing.
Gary still had the Do Not Disturb sign on the door when we got back in mid-afternoon, and we ultimately determined that a touch of food poisoning might have abetted his troubles that morning.
That was Wednesday.
Thursday found a bit more chop on the water, but since Gary hadn’t even THOUGHT about food the previous evening, we were able to concentrate of spotting fish.
And yes, there were fish. Unfortunately, poor Gary had that black cloud hanging over his head.
Jon was on the bow. Rich was midships, spotting, and Gary was on the port side stern leaning against the poling platform. We had been seeing a lot of tarpon, and some were cruising just below the surface.
“Gary, cast that crab pattern out and let it float around. Jon, get your fly in the ‘ready-position’ in case fish pop up,” I told them. Minutes later, Rich and I stared at a very healthy 125-pound tarpon that flashed up from below the boat and sucked in Gary’s crab.
Except Gary was momentarily preoccupied plucking a knot out of his fly line—or something—and never saw the fish inhale the fly. Predictably, like a man mistakenly putting a wax grape into his mouth, the tarpon disgustedly spat out the fly and swam away.
“Why didn’t you set the hook?” Rich asked.
“Why?” Gary replied.
“Because a very nice tarpon just swam away unmolested when you didn’t set the hook,” I said.
“I never saw him. I didn’t know. I just…” WAHH, WAHH, WAAAHHH.
Obviously, there was no way Jon or Rich or I was going to let Gary off easy. So, we kept up the banter until a very large tarpon attempted to eat my boat.
Well, that might be a SLIGHT exaggeration. But not much.
“Hit him, Jon,” I yelled, and he flipped his fly over the side. “Too far left. Lead him to the right, Jon.”
Which Jon attempted. Except Gary was now so pumped full of adrenaline that he also smashed his rod off to the right and it sounded like a sword fight in progress “click, clack, click”.
By the time the tangled fly lines were plucked apart, the second tarpon that should have been in the boat had swum off to Sarasota or Tampa or Corpus Christi.
But tomorrow is a new day and hordes of tarpon are out there off Casey Key and Rob Adrian’s in from Arizona.
Film at 11!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Lemon Bay - May 21st, 2007 |
RECORDED:
78 °
FISHING: Good
May 21, 2007
Tarpon are funny animals. Just ask Kevin Jurgens, “Nine-Toe” Jones, Geir Pettersen, Brad Johnson, Jamison Anthony “TT” Tomeo, and especially, Don McEwen!
I spent the better part of last week with them chasing the often-elusive Silver King. Oh, we found them all right—the tarpon, I mean—but not in the usual places you’d expect at this time of year. And getting them to eat a fly or artificial bait was exasperating, to say the least.
Kevin had been threatening to come fish with me for the past three years, but either his business or my schedule always seemed to interfere with our plans.
This time, however, his buddy from Oregon, Kevin Jones, flew East for a week of saltwater fishing before heading back to his guide business on the Dechutes River.
Unfortunately, the cold fronts that have buffeted the upper Midwest and east coast have scrambled the tarpon. The fish that had been popping up around Boca Grande, Gasparilla, and Longboat Key “took a walk” so to speak. That is to say, they suddenly disappeared from the nearshore beaches!
Being resourceful, if nothing else, I went to Plan B: an inland waterway that’s always chock-full of tarpon ranging from 20 pounds to 80 or 90 pounds.
And yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Clause. Except he didn’t eat the cookies or drink the milk that Kevin, “Nine-Toe”, and later Geir and Brad set out.
Let me set you straight on this “Nine-Toe” business.
Obviously, having two guys of the same first name in the boat gets confusing for everyone when I’m tossing out tidbits like “KEVIN! Big snook cruising at ten o’clock!” Well, WHICH Kevin?
So, after Jonesy got a loop of fly line around his big toe and I mentioned that it was a good way to come up missing a piece of his body if a big tarpon decided to strike—TA DAH! He has a new nickname: “Nine-Toe.”
“When you write about it,” he intoned, “just remember—it’s the LEGEND of Nine-Toe.” When I pointed out that he hadn’t done anything LEGENDARY except land his first-ever snook, he mumbled something about “going on line to tell the world some outrageous stories about Capt. Tony.”
I told him he was simply upset because the dozens of tarpon we’d seen that morning wouldn’t eat a single offering from him or Kevin.
After pouting a while, “Nine-Toe” agreed that probably was true.
The snook, which was a pretty nice fish laid up along the bushes, took away some of his disappointment about not hooking a tarpon. And Kevin Jurgens got on the board a bit later with a four pound bluefish. Since they tend to run in schools, I was surprised the guys didn’t hook up on a bunch of them. But noooooooooo.
Geir and Brad really had bad luck. I took them to The Tarpon Hole, but the tarpon were holed-up someplace else. Brad, who’s also from Michigan, spent a lot of time catching up on “old home week” while Geir cast relentlessly.
“You get up on the bow and fish,” Brad had told him. “You’re going back to Texas soon. I can fish for tarpon for the next two months.” So Geir, who’s originally from Norway, beat the water to a froth.
Sadly, it was one of those days guides absolutely abhor!
Since the wind continued to blow from the north/northeast at 20, Sunday morning once again found me lurking around the inland waterways with Don, a native Floridian from Orlando, and “TT,” from New Jersey.
We kept seeing tarpon, and they kept launching artificial crabs, spinnerbaits, Exudes, and jigs of every description. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Off we went in search of tarpon in another favored spot of mine. The Garmin 172 registered HUNDREDS of fish below us. Nothing. Off we went in search of snook and redfish. Cast, cast, cast. Nothing.
I was about ready to pull the plug on the day, but decided to take one more look for tarpon. Back to The Tarpon Hole.
As we approached, nothing was showing. No swirls. No rolling tarpon. Just calm, flat water.
“Hey, Cap’n,” TT said. “How about showing me how to fly fish?”
I pulled an eight-weight out of the Redfisher’s rod-holder and started to demonstrate. I explained the proper grip. I told TT and Don how to keep the rod tip moving in a straight line. I demonstrated the “strip-strike.”
“TT” got the hang of it pretty quickly.
Finally, Don asked if he could give it a try. Yep. And after about ten minutes of rocking his arm nearly down to the water on his backcast, and throwing the rod forward like a spinning rig on his forward stroke, Don laid out a nice straight cast.
And by golly wouldn’t you know that a 30-pound tarpon inhaled that big white streamer like a 10-year-old with cotton candy at the county fair!
“WHAT DO I DO?” Don yelled. At which point, “TT” vaulted up from his seat and tried to wrestle the rod away from Don. “Gimme that thing,” TT yelled. “You’re doing it all wrong!”
“Get away from me, you New Jersey trailer-trash!” Don replied. Loudly. “I’ll take care of this fish. But what do I DO, Captain?”
I first mentioned that getting rid of all that slack line might be a good idea. Then I started to explain stripping in the line. But Don was furiously reeling and I’ll be darned if that tarpon wasn’t still attached to that size four Eagle Claw hook.
“HOLY #@*%!” Don yelled as the line came tight. “HE’S STILL ON! HE’S STILL ON!”
At which point that tarpon made a five-foot-high jump and the fly came whizzing back at us.
Upon subsequent inspection, it was determined that size four hooks simply aren’t strong enough to withstand tarpon. It had straightened out, allowing that beautiful animal to come unpinned.
It also caused Don and “TT” to come unhinged. “My first fish ever on a fly and it’s a TARPON,” Don kept muttering.
“You didn’t CATCH it,” “TT” kept replying. “He wasn’t in the boat. It doesn’t count!”
To which Don calmly replied, “It counts. And I’m never going fishing with you again, New Jersey Trash. It counts. And this fly is going on my souvenir wall.
“It counts!”
“God,” “TT” wailed. “If I have to listen to this all the way back to Orlando I’m gonna go nuts! I KNEW something like this was going to happen. I just KNEW it!”
“You’re just jealous,” Don retorted.
“Damn right I am!” “TT” said, sadly. “Damn right I am!”
By the way, Bob Haskell up in Wareham, Mass will get a particular kick out of this story. See, that tarpon ate a big white streamer that he tied at one of the fly tying classes I do at Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters.
“That’s a good-looking fly,” I had told him.
“It’s yours,” he replied. “Use it to catch a tarpon. And when you do, I’m really gonna bust the chops of my buddy back home who gives me a bunch of grief about fly fishin’.
“You tell me you caught a tarpon—or ANYTHING—with this fly and I’m gonna lay it on him big-time.”
Lay it on, Bob. Lay it on!
Till next time,
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Lemon Bay - May 13th, 2007 |
RECORDED:
80 °
FISHING: Excellent
May 13, 2007
The cold front that forced Kate to cover up our apple trees--which are flowering for the first time--along with all of her other flowers and herbs, is on its way to Florida.
That’s the bad news if you plan on being down here in the next three days.
The GOOD news is that we’ve found an absolute HONEY HOLE of tarpon in the fifteen to sixty-pound class!
Capt. John wheedled the info out of a local fly angler a few days ago, and couldn’t wait to try out the spot.
Yesterday, he went in alone and hooked seven tarpon, boated five, and broke two rods.
Crack of dawn found us BOTH back there today. The hooking action wasn’t as hot as yesterday—John boated one 20-pounder—but we both had PLENTY of shots!
What a great spot.
Last Thursday, I took Rob Pilato and his folks, Lou and Sue, into Charlotte Harbor. Rob said he didn’t want to fish—“just make sure mom and dad have fun,” he said.
That lasted until Dad boated a decent trout. Then Rob’s fly rod magically appeared from the rod holders under the gunwale of my Hewes Redfisher 18.
Bingo! A hefty spotted sea trout for Rob.
We had a lot of big snook and some reds cruising around The West Wall, but no hookups.
When I noticed several boats clustered together out in the deeper water I idled out thataway and it wasn’t long before Dad was the central—maybe supporting actor, in this case—of The Big One That Got Away.
Cobia? Tarpon? Could be. Both species have been hooked during the past week in that specific area.
Anyway, Mom, Dad and Son hooked a plethora of fish. Photos were snapped, hands were shook, and commiserations over The Lost Fish were given.
Next time, Lou. Maybe next time.
Friday morning found me in Lemon Bay with Bob LaForge and his wife, Sherry. Bob just retired, and his daughter Kris thoughtfully arranged the trip as his retirement gift.
Bob’s been guiding anglers in Maine on a part-time basis, and plans to spend more time on the water instead of heading the grocery chain’s seafood department—appropriate, eh?
We tried to run outside Stump Pass, but the rollers were three-to-four. Nope. Let’s take a walk back inside. We did, and found plenty of feeding redfish which didn’t feed on our offerings.
Neither did the tarpon that presented themselves to us. But, hey! Bob and Sherry wanted to see tarpon and I showed them tarpon. NEXT time, Bob, you’ll hook up.
“I didn’t know what to expect about these tarpon,” he said. “But now that I know they really DO exist and you have a chance to catch them, I think I’ll be spending more time here during the winter next year.”
After Sherry hooked a nice trout, Bob nailed one even larger and it was time to go home.
Speaking of home, Kate tells me that heavy frost (it went down to 23f in Deward last night) did some damage but she thinks the apple trees were spared. Won’t know about the blueberries, serviceberries, and daffodils for another day or so.
Keep your fingers crossed for her.
Oh, yeah. John Griffiths is pretty sure “Lady” was successfully bred by “Scooby” last month. She’s going to get an ultrasound Tuesday to make sure, but it looks like Ghost will have a “Little Brother” in August.
She’s gonna hate it. She’s REALLY gonna hate it. But only for a little while. I HOPE!!
Till next time…
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
Charlotte Harbor Area - May 8th, 2007 |
RECORDED:
82 °
FISHING: Excellent
Tarpon are all OVER the place right now!
Most of them are inside, however, rather than off the beaches. But Charlotte Harbor and Pine Island Sound are simply CRAWLING with those large silver creatures!
Capt. John and Capt. Mark have been nailing poons regularly.
I, of course, just got back from depositing Kate and Ghost in Deward. Where, I might add, we managed to wet a line twice and had loads of fun with brown trout and brookies.
The biggest problem we had was unraveling the mystery of multiple hatches—caddis, stones and mayflies all were popping simultaneously!
Kate scored with a little yellow stonefly pattern I tie. For me, a small gray caddis won the day. Go figure!
Ghost was thrilled to be back in the woods. I bought a new 50-foot lead for her and her sniffer was in overload-mode. Especially when she found and pointed two grouse within minutes of each other.
Lots of drumming, plus woodcock peeeet-ing in the evenings.
Ghost’s in for a rude surprise come August, though. Presuming “Lady” was properly bred by “Scooby” a couple of weeks ago. Kate, Ghost and I stopped at John Griffen’s breeding operation on the way home to see the parents of the pup I expect to add to our “family” in August.
Good looking dogs. Lots of style in the field. But Ghost ain’t gonna be happy once she’s not an “only dog” any more!
Lessee—Capt. John and Capt. Mark have been making me green with envy with their daily reports. The weather was absolutely spectacular down here while I was gone, and the fish were fairly
co-operative.
John and I are planning a morning run tomorrow—if the wind lays down! And if smoke from the myriad scrub fires blows away! The forecast, however, is favorable.
I’ve got trips Thursday and Friday, but both involve older parents, and Moms who aren’t keen on the idea of getting up in the middle of the night to go chase tarpon.
So, my next report will let you know all about the snook and redfish action around Charlotte Harbor.
And, I hope, a photo of me with a tarpon or two if we can sneak out in the morning.
Oh, yes—the Bayfisher found a new home this morning. It’s on its way to the Least Coast—uh, I mean EAST coast—of Florida!
Till next time…
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
photos
|
|
 |
