07/10/2008



Photo

Ah, sometimes… I let El T-Perro talk me into wade fishing this past Sunday. Given a choice, I’d rather be in a boat, preferably one that doesn’t need me to row; or on the shore, all civilized-like. But the ocean was very rough (nine-mile-per-hour north-easterly) and full of sargasso, so off we went, wading in the hip-deep waters of Mosquito Lagoon, right off of the fifth parking lot in Canaveral National Seashore. Since I’d planned on casting into the surf, my tackle and gear wasn’t exactly right, but good enough. We had a lot of fresh shrimp (unfrozen, but dead), some Gulp bait, spoons and a few “super secret” lures that El T-Perro has sworn me to secrecy about. The weather was pretty nice—overcast, slightly choppy (good inasmuch as fish are slightly less likely to spook, but bad since it’s harder to spot the sand holes where reds hang out), hot… The water was about eighty-degrees. All in all, not ideal conditions, but not horrible. Well… cutting to the chase. T-Dog found a hole. It had more action in it than I’ve ever seen in my life. He hooked no fewer than five reds in less than thirty minutes. He lost three of them, but I’ll attest that the ones he lost were very large. Lots of screaming reels, lots of rolling fish. It was just incredible. He landed two of them — one about fifteen inches, the other that honker you see in the picture above. I think around twenty-six inches. Right under the slot. And he caught them on everything: artificial, Gulps, live shrimp. Me? Well, I spent a lot of time watching Tony reel in the fish. I was fishing the same hole, same bait… and I got butkiss. Skunked. I spent most of my time with my tackle in the air, waiting for El-T to bring in his latest fish. Humiliating, but part of the game, I guess. Two things kept me back, I guess (well, aside from angering the gods): My leader material was eighty-pound mono, which is what I use in the surf. That is WAY TOO THICK for the much more delicate art of fishing for drum in the lagoon. The other problem was that I was using my six-foot baitcaster, and since it was windy, I had it pretty tightly screwed. (Line on baitcasters tends to tangle tragically in heavy winds.) So, while El-T could land in the far corners of the sand holes and jig across (eight-foot rod with a nice spincaster), I could barely manage the to hit the center. Anyway, I came away with a much better appreciation of wade fishing. For this time of the year, it’s pleasant enough. We waded out about a mile, which was darn fine exercise (two miles, waist-deep or deeper water=good exercise). Very peaceful out there (aside from El-T’s screaming reel). And the fishing was incredibly good… well, for some of us. Catching that many fish that late in the afternoon, at the beginning of October, while standing in chest-high water… By anyone’s account, that was damn fine fishing. Nice job, El-T. I ended up buying some clams and shrimp from Ocean’s and making my favorite seafood salad for supper. But others’ catch is never quite as tasty…

Ah, sometimes… I let El T-Perro talk me into wade fishing this past Sunday. Given a choice, I’d rather be in a boat, preferably one that doesn’t need me to row; or on the shore, all civilized-like. But the ocean was very rough (nine-mile-per-hour north-easterly) and full of sargasso, so off we went, wading in the hip-deep waters of Mosquito Lagoon, right off of the fifth parking lot in Canaveral National Seashore. Since I’d planned on casting into the surf, my tackle and gear wasn’t exactly right, but good enough. We had a lot of fresh shrimp (unfrozen, but dead), some Gulp bait, spoons and a few “super secret” lures that El T-Perro has sworn me to secrecy about. The weather was pretty nice—overcast, slightly choppy (good inasmuch as fish are slightly less likely to spook, but bad since it’s harder to spot the sand holes where reds hang out), hot… The water was about eighty-degrees. All in all, not ideal conditions, but not horrible.

Well… cutting to the chase. T-Dog found a hole. It had more action in it than I’ve ever seen in my life. He hooked no fewer than five reds in less than thirty minutes. He lost three of them, but I’ll attest that the ones he lost were very large. Lots of screaming reels, lots of rolling fish. It was just incredible. He landed two of them — one about fifteen inches, the other that honker you see in the picture above. I think around twenty-six inches. Right under the slot. And he caught them on everything: artificial, Gulps, live shrimp.

Me? Well, I spent a lot of time watching Tony reel in the fish. I was fishing the same hole, same bait… and I got butkiss. Skunked. I spent most of my time with my tackle in the air, waiting for El-T to bring in his latest fish. Humiliating, but part of the game, I guess. Two things kept me back, I guess (well, aside from angering the gods): My leader material was eighty-pound mono, which is what I use in the surf. That is WAY TOO THICK for the much more delicate art of fishing for drum in the lagoon. The other problem was that I was using my six-foot baitcaster, and since it was windy, I had it pretty tightly screwed. (Line on baitcasters tends to tangle tragically in heavy winds.) So, while El-T could land in the far corners of the sand holes and jig across (eight-foot rod with a nice spincaster), I could barely manage the to hit the center.

Anyway, I came away with a much better appreciation of wade fishing. For this time of the year, it’s pleasant enough. We waded out about a mile, which was darn fine exercise (two miles, waist-deep or deeper water=good exercise). Very peaceful out there (aside from El-T’s screaming reel). And the fishing was incredibly good… well, for some of us.

Catching that many fish that late in the afternoon, at the beginning of October, while standing in chest-high water… By anyone’s account, that was damn fine fishing. Nice job, El-T.

I ended up buying some clams and shrimp from Ocean’s and making my favorite seafood salad for supper. But others’ catch is never quite as tasty…