The Frustration of Loss: Giant Snook (pt.1)

Fishing allows us a consequence free way to experience loss and frustration. There's no real long term impacts of loosing a big fish other than the increase in determination to best the next one. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, losing a huge fish... actually, it hurts enough that experiencing it, on the regular if you fish as much as I do, helps deal with other pains in life. Maybe.

Noah and I put three days into one area we had high hopes for. Snook and tarpon were the primary targets. We'd fished some of this water with Kirk the week prior, but now we'd really get to explore it thoroughly.

This was old Florida, though we weren't alone on the water as much as I'd like. Ideally, there'd be nobody else out there at all. But I guess we should take what we can get these days. This river was beautiful.

Our first day was completely exploratory. Despite the fact that we'd been on a little bit of this water before it was only a tiny fraction, and we had little understanding of what tides, winds, and times of day would fish best. In fact it was a while before I even moved a fish, a decent sized snook, and then a long time before I caught the first fish, which was a bass. Between the two Noah had hooked and lost what was probably a fat snook. 'Fat' in that context is both the description and the common name. Many people don't realize that there is far more than one species of snook.

With the tide falling, the way back downriver proved more fruitful for Noah. We were seeing some massive gar on the way down, and Noah put a cast in front of one that, unlike the rest, slammed the bejesus out of his soft plastic. By some miracle he managed to get good hook purchase in the bone hard mouth of what turned out to be a trophy longnose gar. The fight was ridiculous, the fish towed Noah right into the mangroves and I needed to assist. That ended with me jumping ship... into the alligator and bull shark filled river... to assist in pulling him to a sand bar where we then landed the fish. As one that loves relict species, fish whose lineage dates back to when there were still reptiles the size of buses wandering this land, this was an animal to behold. I was almost as excited as Noah over this fish. It is such a thrill to hold a giant, armored, just metal looking fish. Though their demeanor much of the time is far from metal, their appearance is impressive enough to make up for their sluggishness. And when they do really unload on an unsuspecting prey item, like Noah's did... it is something else.

That was certainly a high note. I didn't know it yet, but I was just a short time out from a very low note. With the sun getting lower and the tide finally low enough that all the water was out of the mangroves, I laid a cast next to a partially submerged log. A massive wake came of the log, and I watched a mouth more than wide enough to fit two fists in engulf my fly... and I totally whiffed it. I ripped my fly right out of a 40 inch plus snook. A monster fish of which I saw every inch and every fin. I know how big that fish was. It was huge. Of course it didn't come back. 

I was furious. For a fly fisherman that would be a once in a lifetime caliber snook. I should not have missed it. Too much trout fishing builds bad habits. That set the stage for dedicating our time to this area the next few days. Unfortunately, it would not get much better for me, though there was a fine line where it could have gone right. At least I'd leave with a story, but damn that hurt.

The only snook I caught that day. It was very small.

Until next time,

Fish for the love of fish.

Fish for the love of places fish live.

Fish for you.

And stay safe and healthy.

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