Welcome to Fly Fishing The Salt! If you are just discovering
the joys of fly fishing the salt (or salt chuck as some call it) here you
will find information to steer you in the right direction. Tips on what equipment
to use, why, where and how to fish. And we will try to include a little inspiration
to get you going. For the experienced salt water angler, there will be personal
stories about real fishermen and their experiences, tips on what flies for
which fish and techniques that work. Your stories and articles are also most
welcome. Share the knowledge and adventure. Pass it on! This is for you.
Hot July nights fishing can make you sweat like a whore in church as the temps
drop down to almost 85 at night and the humidity hangs about 90%. Last night
the temp was the same but several things were different for this trip. First,
the evening breeze was from the SW early and then from the north later making
it really nice on the water. The second was when my fishing friends for the
night, Maxi and Heidi called and asked that I bring a spinning rod on the
boat for the little woman. “She wants to learn fly tossing but not ready
for night fly fishing,” explained Maxi. Well, I bend for friends like
this. I brought the dreaded “devil rod” along. Glad I did.
I focused a long time ago on fly fishing; try being most excellent at it
and to provide a near perfect platform to fly fish from. I am not proficient
in spin fishing techniques at all and had to call a fellow guide to ask about
how to catch fish this way. He mentioned a couple of top water lures with
names out of the NASCAR dictionary. I should have been sitting in the boat
waiting on the fishing team when I was wondering through Kmart looking for
said plugs to arm Heidi with. I took the rig to the dock out back and did
three casts to make the “evil treble hook clustered” thing work
like Unk told me; “walking the dog.” We hit the water with a half
hour of light left armed with my new vast spinning experience and headed to
a flat nearby home to practice before the lights went out. Oh, on getting
into the truck, Heidi was noticed by some neighbors. She is not hard to miss.
I yelled at them she fished naked and as we blasted off they were begging
to come along.
I showed Heidi once and she had it. No mystery there as her daughter, when
14 (now a mother of 21), picked it up in one short lesson too. Isn’t reverse
DNA transfer neat? Heidi was throwing about a hundred feet on the light weight
rod and bail type reel flawlessly. I was teaching as Ron poled us on a big
grass flat in a couple feet of water and the fish were trying in vain to jump
on the plug. I corrected her with one cast on how to retrieve it better so
the dog “walked.” She got that too. Then, noting she was Omni directional
and did not seem to care as long as it went long and out of the boat, we showed
her the swirls the fish made in the water and told her she would have to toss
at the swirls. I demoed one aimed cast then she hit the first target she tried
to hit. Then the setting of the hook I explained. She started getting that
and had several big hits and “just about” hook ups. Then one hit
her lure about twenty feet out. Determined not to miss this one, she gave
a mighty set. The fish threw the hook infested “evil” plug back
at her just missing all of us and it crocheted her name around the front platform.
I took the rod as she tried to trace the line to the blister of hooks lodged
somewhere near an artery of one our legs.
Just then Ron and I saw a monster “bust” off the starboard side,
about 150 feet away…and there was a deep red/gold hew to the big tail that
flashed. Heidi did not see the act and had just freed the killer plug. I had
the rod and just flung it as far as I could at the big swirl fading in the
wave pattern. I hit about ten feet left of it and gave it a big “chug.” A
monster bust happened at the plug but missed and the fish followed with a
second big slash and the plug went missing as the line when tight. Setting
was not a problem to be considered but I tried anyway. It was like trying
to pull a truck out of the water. The fish took another fifty feet of line
before it slowed.
I “thought” this reel had 10 or 12 pound line on it. I also had
the drag at about a pound for trout, not monsters. I guessed and tightened
the little reel’s drag “a bit.” I was able to make some ground
with the fish toward the boat. Ron and I had pretty much confirmed it was
a red but disagreed on the size. A big fish on our flats is in the ten pound
range this far from the bridge and ocean. Ron insisted it was a “monster.” Heidi
was cheering for either size. I pumped, gaining for a bit, and the fish would “leave” for
another twenty feet again. I tightened the drag some more and “twanged” the
line to see how tight it was. The “high C” notes indicated I was
working toward breaking strength…whatever it was. Did I mention I don’t fish
this way?
The short runs and uptake continued and the boat started going to the fish,
not the other way around. I got it to the fifteen foot range as we followed
along the flat toward deep water. I did not need gravity adding to the fight
at depth but the fish saw the boat and pulled us around to the stern and back
toward shallow in its’ attempt to get rid of us. Ron refocused the direction
with the push pole like a pro so I could fight in the front half of our little
world. It was getting dark when I got the fish used to seeing the boat inside
ten feet. I could now see this one had shoulders and was pretty big. Ron came
down to help net it. Only the head would fit in the net. I tried to explain
he would have to get the big head in the little net and then grab it by the
tail to lift it in the boat. This tried and true method did not get well explained.
It sounds easy here, but in the near dark with a big fish splashing it was
testy. Ron suggested we swap positions and we did and I hoisted the “bull” in.
This all happened in about ten minutes but a recording of the discussion would
have had to be slowed down to understand clearly. The “time compression” in
our minds made it seemed like an hour long fight.
With 82.5 degree water and a seemingly long fight, time was at the essence
to get the big lady back in the water. Most all “bulls” are really
females as they have to pack the millions of eggs they carry. One big slow
down was the “most evil deadly multi treble hooked damn plug.” She
had it totally in her mouth with the tail bundle of deadly hooks stuck in
the back of her tongue and the front cluster under the front of her tongue
about five inches forward of the otherwise adequate back hooking. That only
left the last treble hook in the middle of the plug to snare me while trying
to unhook the back cluster without hurting the pretty fish…any more. PETA,
I may agree with the fish feeling pain from contraptions like this. I got
it done and then we pan seared the fish with flash picture taking before I
started the revival part of the release. Again, time compression may have
had a part of my feeling we might have had her out of the water too long.
We didn’t and it took only a short period of me holding her along side the
boat while letting the water work through her gills. She took charge in a
short minute and tried to break my wrist leaving. Fist bumps went all around.
My big regret was not letting Heidi catch that fish. She could have done it
with a little coaching…or none. I should have at least handed it to her after
the hook up, but I really did not think of it. It settled into a boat team
effort and all did their part.
The sun set in a subtle orange glow and we changed lures and flies to ready
for the “under the lights” night fishing. While Heidi held the light
and I tied, Ron hooked and landed a pretty little seatrout while tossing a
popping fly at swirls in the fading light. Off we went four miles away to
work the lights under the Destin Bridge.
With a slow tide flowing out and fish busting in the light that tells mariners
the height of bridge to pass under, I set up for Ron to cast a popping fly
in amongst the fish slashing at shrimp passing through the light beside the
bridge weir. The light is on the end of this metal and wooden fence like structure
about seven feet above the water.
It took him only one cast to catch a nice ladyfish. They jump and splash
putting on a nice fight. He caught another and then suggested Heidi try again
with the “SOB” spinning rod, my name for it, not his. To hold position
for this sort of bridge fishing it takes the big motor running. Adjustments
are made to position so the lure gets thrown above and past the light pattern.
It should be retrieved back in the direction of the flow thereby playing like
the food the fish are so voraciously eating. The motor noise should scare
some fish away but the highway 98 traffic fifty feet above might mask it.
Then, also, every ten minutes this night another boat would go through the
bridge pass twenty feet away from the light. Motors didn’t seem to scare them.
The instant ability Heidi showed in the light did not seem to translate through
the sundown. This was a different lure; a DOA shrimp (single hook like it
should be) and we did not practice this casting in the light, my bad. She
had all sort of problems getting a good cast as she tried to miss the bridge
and still get near the fish. Ron tried it and had little luck either. I made
an attempt to toss it while keeping the boat under control in the bridge currents
to see what the problem was but we would either crash or I could cast the
SOB rig, not both. Ron went back to flies and caught another couple ladies.
Heidi then asked if she could stand by me and practice some. I never mind
a fine bottom inches from my face so could see no harm…in the practice. I
did tell her she was in charge of not interfering with Ron’s backcast as she
was the only one who could watch it. That concept was a little advanced for
a novice and I did not watch the action unfolding. I was working the positioning
for the angler up front and basking in the warmth of the “captain’s position” on
the boat. In mere moments there was line, fly and faux shrimp tied in a massive
tumble weed pattern near the middle of the boat. I went from happy captain
to deckhand knot untangling in a second. As in most night work, I could handle
the boat or untie knots, not both. I almost ran us into the bridge. Not only
the lines were distracting but Heidi, now holding the light, still standing
beside me as I sat, but now facing me and lightly “brushing” against
ear (completely innocently I am sure), added to my total lack of focus. We
just missed the bridge and death. I cleared us out of the threat and we floated
while I worked on the lines. I did let her hold the light and continue “leaning” on
me…so she would not fall overboard.
The “bird nest” was not to be undone so I broke the spinning line,
not the $70 fly line, and Ron was good to go. I got set to reattach the shrimp
to the SOB rod and Ron suggested we pull out the “much hated multi hook
killing weapon” as Heidi had been good at tossing that…once upon a time…in
the light of day.
I went into my “the customer is always right” mode and tied the
weapon of mass danger back on. Back to the light we went and in one cast she
had it hooked to the bridge. The three person effort to get the line and $8
plug back was a scene out of the three Stooges, or the three blind mice. I
repositioned again and the efforts did not get much better. Ron, who had been
coaching mightily (ever see a man try to teach his wife anything, especially
when he does not know what he is teaching?), took over and in a cast and a
half had fouled the reel into full stop. I took a quick look at it and could
see it was more than the little LED lights on the boat could help me with.
I declared, “The Evil Bitch is dead and we would now fly fish like normal
humans.” They got a little silent but Heidi piped up, “all is well,
I would enjoy watch you boys play.” Then, I realized how stupid I was.
I could have worked the fixing of that reel, with helping light holder next
to me, into a heart attack and died a happy man. The counter thought was that
my last fish in life would have been a great one, but on a damn spinning rod.
We glided over soft molten water on this beautiful night with the stars blazing
over us back to my local neighborhood and pushed past a few nice lights that
held no fish. The tide was slack and then we noticed another dock with fish
busting bait in a weed patch under a light. There was a little tidal movement
there. Ron got three passes and although the fish were eating the small white
fly, he could not hook up. I took the third pass (I would motor up stream
and we would float by as it was way too deep to pole) and managed to catch
a bluefish and a ladyfish. It was getting late, near midnight, and we planned
the underwater light behind my house for the last stop. I had the “last
caught fish” meter back to “normal” with a fly rod.
Lots of nice ladyfish were roaming through the 30 foot circle of light on
my home underwater light. Ron expertly worked the light as good as anyone
could but still could not hook up, even when the fish was gulping the little
fly. He handed me the pole and I managed to get one fine ladyfish that ate
the fly so deep I had to leave it in the fish. Small hooks will rust away
quickly and he will probably make it vice, tearing up the fish trying to recover
a two cent fly.
That was it for the night, great by any measure. Like night flying, everything
that can go wrong does and big things can happen. But, in flying you die,
while in fishing you get a million laughs. This night was a hoot! I hate to
say I had a ball landing that first fish. It is my largest red in Florida
at 24 pounds and over three feet long. What a way to usher in July Fools Day.
Originally published July 13, 2009 on Fly Anglers Online by By Captain Scud Yates, Fort Walton Beach, Florida.