Goodbye, Florida

As the sun set on our last evening in Florida and the mosquitoes chased us away from the still rolling tarpon, we prepared for yet another night of driving slowly down dirt roads for hours looking for snakes.

I had a sense of urgency to see something fantastic before we had to leave. So far we'd seen very common species. The first snake we saw wasn't uncommon, it was another moccasin, but a huge one. It was stalk still when the van came to a halt but not when we approached it on foot. The snake was already on the edge of the road so it didn't have far to go to get away. I quickly made a desperate bid to keep it from getting away, grabbing the fat, powerful pit viper by the tail, letting go when it turned, then grabbing again when it continued its getaway. By then it was deep in the tangle of vines and grass and there was no way I was pulling it out without getting bit so I dropped it again. That was a minor disappointment; though being the same species I'd already photographed a bunch of times in the prior two nights, it was the most impressive and intimidating one we'd seen and I adore big intimidating snakes as much as I adore little, colorful, completely charming ones.

That is what the next snake I saw in the road was... so small it was barely noticeable. It's lack of size had me excited as I also knew right away it wasn't a corn snake, so it must be something we'd not yet seen. I could hardly contain my excitement when I saw that it was a scarlet snake, a species I'd wanted to see for years. Then I could hardly contain my horror when I saw that it was dying, presumably from a run in with a previous car. Still alive but just barely, my first ever scarlet snake was just a reminder of the damage humans have done to this place. Such a perfect beautiful living thing, destroyed by humans simply having been present.

I decided we should carry it with us to see if its condition would improve at all. I hoped it would but doubted it.

Down the road, we saw an SUV pulled over and two girls our age shining a flashlight into one of the many pools of deeper water along the road. We stopped and I asked what they were were looking for. "Oh we're just checking shit out." one of the two replied. I laughed and replied "That's basically what we're doing too but mostly looking for snakes". They then asked if we knew how to find Burmese pythons, and said no... I gave my best answer which boiled down basically to no, not really, I wish we did.... I told them about the snakes we'd been finding and about the scarlet snake, and they wanted to see it. I went and grabbed it. Unfortunately it was in far worse condition so after showing them and explaining the difference between it and a scarlet kingsnake I gently placed it under a bush. I told the girls if they cruised slowly and stayed on the lookout they'd likely at least get to see a moccasin or two. We left them and could still see their headlights behind us when we found our next moc. We heard tight and made sure the snake didn't go anywhere while we waited for them to get to us. The snake was a good boy and didn't bite me while we waited for them to reach us. They were very excited to see it, and I was more than happy to share the experience with people who enjoyed it as much as I did.

That was our last everglades snake. It was a fitting end, and the reminder I needed after finding that dying scarlet snake that not all people are destructive and careless. Dinner was... well... I guess the next photo is at least somewhat self explanatory, maybe not the bolt cutters. But you get the idea.
Any food is good food on the side of a dirt road in the woods.

The next morning we rose before the sun to try and catch one last tarpon. The sun rose over Florida behind me as a 20 pound tarpon erupted on my gurgler, did a cartwheel, then tail walked 15 feet. I don't even know if I bowed, I was too busy watching the chaos unfolding in front of me, completely awe struck. The fish broke off. I wasn't even mad. 

An hour later, we turned the van off the Tamiami and pointed north. This time we wouldn't be turning around. We crossed my favorite river in Florida on a long bridge and I eyed the mangrove islands below. We crossed the sweltering spine of the peninsula and got on I-95. Then we drove to South Carolina. We'd said goodbye to Florida but the adventure was not yet over.
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.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon. 

Tamiami Tarpon

Like some sort of inanimate object come to life, a carved chunk of chrome or ice, a tarpon's head breached the surface. He was only a little one, one of the many silver princes that use the Everglades as their nursery before they grow large enough to join the cyclical migration. The tarpon, Megalops atlanticus, has the power to captivate anglers at any and all stages of it's life cycle. It's beauty, like a wildly oversized shiner, prone to going airborne in spectacular fashion, has a profound effect. I don't like to play favorites, and I routinely find the popularity of some fish overblown. Not so with tarpon... that an almost inedible fish managed to rapidly gain such a devoted following shows just how earned it was. They are the inshore sport fish, the ultimate, the worthiest of the praise they've so often been given. There is nothing disappointing about tarpon. Not one thing. Even these little jewels I was watching gulp air in the fading light of an Everglades spring eve made my heart beat a little bit faster and my breath become shallow.

When you've been fly fishing for different species as much as I have, you know how random a lifer can find it's way to you or how much time and effort builds up to it. Tarpon will forever be an outlier for me. I'd struggled many times to even get a look from one, had hooked and lost a couple and missed others incidentally, but that didn't feel like a buildup. My first tarpon ever came a mere handful of missed takes into our evening session. Though there was tenseness (there always is when I'm after a species I've wanted for years) I also had this sensation that this time it was going to happen, without question. I've never had that before, and it was a strange feeling. But when I finally connected and that little baby silver prince went airborne, I smiled and new I was about to hold my first ever tarpon. That feeling can't really be earned; these fish, even little, have an exceptional knack for parting ways with a fly. But somehow I just knew. And there I was, smiling down at one of the very few popular game fish that I actually considered one of my most wanted lifers. Caught on a gurgler at sunset in an Everglades backwater... to quote Jose Wejebe, referring to baby tarpon in his own way, "Nice, happy goodness". This little fish had no idea what it meant to me.

Atlantic tarpon, Megalops atlanticus. Life list fish #163. Rank: species.

Then, as if Florida wanted to give us exactly what we wanted on our final fishing evening, Noah and I started getting hit by tarpon left and right. He got his lifer shortly after I did then we both proceeded to miss, hook, lose and land a bunch more while darkness settled in and the mosquitoes started to take the stage. Topwater blasts left right and center. Silver princes going airborne. It was worth the wait to experience proper good juvenile tarpon fishing.

Like the small snook we'd been catching all day, I was deeply aware that these little tarpon were the fish of the future. In a day and age where my hope for the future is beat down left and right, these fish give me a glimmer of optimism. In 40 years who knows what the world will look like. I can't conceive of anything less than apocalyptic. Yet, just maybe, one of the very tarpon we released will make it's annual migration as a big adult, and maybe I'll be there to meet it.

A lot of people have called species like American shad "poor man's tarpon" or called tarpon giant shiners. I've grown to hate these sort of analogies with time. Each fish species is distinct, distinct enough to warrant a different a different last name, and though we fisherman may try to describe different species by alluding to others, it falls short. Having now caught tarpon, shad, and a variety of shiner species... tarpon are tarpon, shad are shad, and shiners are shiners. You have to catch each one to really get it. Tarpon had their hooks in me before I ever had a hook in one, and I'll be back after these fish that simply cannot disappoint.

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.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon. 

Everglades Backwater Snook

The Everglades is the mother of all Florida snook and tarpon nurseries. The number of individuals of these species that use the shallow, often freshwater back channels of this incredible estuary is huge. Without the Glades, we may as we say goodbye to the best snook and tarpon fisheries in the U.S. 

The River of Grass, life force of south Florida and beyond. We lose this, we may as well give up completely. And folks... we are losing this.

Our finale full day in Florida dawned much like many others had: misty, vaguely cool, and calm. I went about my morning routine with the melancholy sense that time was limited. We'd been in Florida for literally weeks. We'd had our failures and our successes. We'd seen so, so much. And now it was just a day and a morning before we pointed the van north and said goodbye. I looked through the mist in the tree line, wishing I'd catch a glimpse of a panther, then breathed deeply and decided to pretend I was just going to stay here forever. As I sit here writing this, I wish I had. I wish could've found some dilapidated shack away from any prying eyes and let Noah go home without me. I might have gotten myself killed at some point in the time between then and now... hit by a car trying to save snakes or turtles in the road, dehydrating away on some distant island of trees, or maybe wrapped around a tree by a skunk ape... I might have ended up dying but I would have been the happiest I'd ever been I think. It took very little time in the Everglades for the pull to overwhelm me completely.

We headed west instead of east this day, aiming for waters with higher abundances of snook and tarpon than those we'd fished the day before. I'd gotten some tips from some friends on areas we might find juvenile tarpon but we'd already gotten well past dawn so the likelihood of finding them active was diminishing. We did see some roll in the first place we checked out but didn't move any. We then free-styled, hopping spot to spot as we had the day before, but this time the snook were the headliner.

It took some time for me to hit my stride and get into the snook, and it also took us a bit to get used to the fact that most times we saw fish rolling en mass from the van, it was gar not tarpon. Once you've seen enough rolls it's easy to discern the difference while standing on the bank, but not so from a moving vehicle. 

At one of our western most stops, I watched snook popping over and over on the other side of a fenced in dam. Eventually I could resist no longer, I skirted around the fence and made my way out the wall as unassumingly as possible. Yes, I am indeed admitting to trespassing... please don't follow my example. But there's only so much of listening to those loud pops that I could take and it looked safe enough. There was water coming over the dam at more than a drip in only one spot and that's where all these snook were stacked up. Casting a Clouser into the foam and letting it fall resulted in jarring takes, and I caught five snook in very quick succession before sneaking back to the bank and tying not to look too guilty. 

We continued to bounce around hoping to suddenly luck into a pile of juvenile tarpon. In one spot I had a definite take from one, but again the rollers were predominately Florida gar. 

Them we stumbled into quite the snook nursery. Noah caught the first, and we were both blown away by just how tiny it was. We proceeded to catch a bunch of tiny baby snook out of this spot and it was an absolute joy. 

We hit some midday doldrums after that. I hooked and lost some tilapia, I'm not sure what species, potentially something new, then managed to coax a Nile tilapia off a bed. That was a new species for me.

Nile tilapia, Oreochromis niloticus. Life list fish #162. Rank: species.

We messed around aimlessly for a while, back tracking and hitting spots we already had, not really getting onto anything significant, until later when the tides and light began to change things and we found willing snook again. 

(note: DO NOT hold snook even a little bit larger than these vertically as Noah and I are in this photo, their jaws don't support their body weight well.)

None of the snook we caught in the Everglades were big, and they didn't satiate my need for a giant snook on the fly. But they filled another need. These are Florida's future big snook. They're a sign that we haven't completely ruined this place yet. The Tamiami, despite our best efforts, continues to produce good light tackle snook fishing. Is it anything like it must have been years ago, days when Flip Palot, Chico Fernandez and other drove these same canals before the road along them was paved, sight casting to snook from a pickup? No. And it will never be that way again. But it isn't dead yet. And I needed to know that.
As the sun dropped even more we new we had to find some tarpon. We headed to some known water, then something really special transpired. 

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.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon. 

Comfort Food

Is it odd to find a little clearing in a swamp with just enough room to park a van in, pitch a tent, and have a small fire start feeling like home? I began to feel that sort of affection for the little WMA campsite Noah and I stayed in on our 2018-19 trip and our 2020 trip only strengthened that. The sunsets every night and the sunrises every morning there were spectacular. The mist rising off the wet prairie softened the horizon line of sorts where the deep green, sparse pines became a solid mass and met the burn umber of the grasses. That mist gathered on the tent and, without fail, it was soaking wet when we put it away every morning except the one we decided to sleep in. Before the sun hit the pond next to camp, the gar rolled everywhere. As Noah is slower to get up than I, taking advantage of the gar and bass in the pond became habitual.

 I'd walk around the edge of the pond barefoot with my fly rod and a handful of flies and my camera in my pocket, maybe casting a time or two in the pond itself but really just aiming for the slough on the east end, where the gar and bass were more concentrated and seemingly more willing.

I was using the 10wt for this fishing, which was a little overkill, but I wasn't using rope flies, which tangle in a gar's teeth, so I was happy with a good lever to drive the hook home. I have caught numerous gar on my 5wt now but for casting a long distance and retrieving and absolutely jamming the fish when they take a diver or gurgler, I'd prefer an 8 and I didn't have one. The 10wt did what I asked of it though. It is my go-to rod size for predatory species, believe it or not. I think a 10wt fly rod is one of the most versatile tools in fishing.

Lepisosteus platyrhincus, Florida gar

After spending almost three whole days doing quite a bit of micro fishing and targeting reef fish species that don't respond to active presentations much,  Noah and I wanted a change of pace. Small snook, juvenile tarpon, and largemouth bass in narrow freshwater environments were to be our targets, though other fish were a sure bet as well. We'd fished this water before, even on this trip, so it would be comfortable territory and for me much more exciting than targeting reef fish had been. Active presentations and abundant fish that would be willing to take the right fly presented the right way would be a great reprieve from abundant fish that were, on the whole, not willing to eat any artificial presented any way. The added excitement of these being very engaging species made me even more excited. Tarpon would be hard to find, we had found snook in this system before but not yet on this trip, and though bass, including some specimens over the magical 10 pound mark, were everywhere, we'd found them to be very discerning on our 2018-19 trip. I started out fishing a black an purple gurgler, an everything fly, and everything is what I got. I caught a number of small bass and some sunfish on my way down river before I found a more interesting fish. I hit the fly on a leafy bottomed bit of bank water and, stripping it out, watched a brownish colored, elongated fish come full tilt up to slam it. Either I missed or it missed, but it came back on the next cast, and I got a good look at it before I missed again. It was a bigmouth sleeper. Not a fish I completely expected to hit a gurgler, but it really wasn't that surprising once you've gotten to know the species. Having a photo of it with the foam topwater fly in its maw would have been nice though. Less excitingly but still an absolute pleasure, I landed a sleeper just down river subsurface.

Gobiomorus dormitor, bigmouth sleeper

We worked the roll dam hole for a little while as it had proven time and time again to be a fish magnet. Noah caught a spectacularly colored male bluegill and I caught some oversized spotted sunfish, but there just didn't seem to be any larger predators there this time.

L. macrochirus purpurescens, Coppernose bluegill (rank under debate)

Lepomis punctatus, spotted sunfish

We made our way back upriver to search parts unknown, areas we'd pinpointed using satellite imagery that could hold snook and Tarpon. On the way though, I was prepared to make casts to likely bass holding spots. I really wanted to catch one over a foot long as I hadn't yet here and that really was quite a low bar. After covering a bit of ground without any hookups, I dropped the gurgler next to a a small point and a decent bass gulped it down with a most satisfactory pop. The battle was not unexciting, I'm firmly convinced Micropterus floridanus (under debate) have northern largemouth, Micropterus salmoides, well beat in the fighting ring. Smallmouth though, are still king... that's my black bass and probably always will be. That said, floridanus is, until I catch other black bass species, firmly at number two. These fish do pull. This one wasn't quite slob status but it was still a quality fish, especially given our prior experience on this water.

Noah made a quick stop at the van as we passed the kayak launch, and while he was preoccupied with that I bothered some gar hiding under a shade tree. They were very willing to eat the gurgler but I had a harder time hooking them from the kayak than I had while on the back of the pond in the morning. I got annoyed enough to start working upstream before Noah had gotten done, but not that far. He caught up to me right as I spotted a small, shiny, dark animal moving around up on the bank. I assumed initially it must be a snake struggling with a captured fish, but instead it turned out to be a vermiculated sailfin, well above the waterline and trying to get back in. I hypothesized that a bird had likely caught it, but upon fining it completely armored and impossible to swallow or break into, had left it there. I did the same, these are invasive fish and it's death would not be a bad thing. 

Around the corner, now fishing a buzz toad, Noah had a good blowup and hooked into another quality bass. It was starting to feel that we'd cracked the code on these bass. 

We headed up a long canal arm, a straightened slough basically, at the end of which we knew was a spillway. The whole way up though the water looked great and indeed proved to be so. My first fish of note was a large coppernose bluegill, a studly gorgeous male perfectly capable of eating the same size two gurgler I'd been using the whole time.  

The bass continued to chew as well, though neither Noah nor myself caught another the size of each of our first.good ones. We did each see an absolute behemoth though, a fish every bit of fifteen pounds, so incredulously large looking in the water that it had to be something else. But it was a bass, the largest I had ever seen in person. 

As we made our way to the upper end of the canal, we came into a stretch that was loaded with Mayan cichlids. I caught the first on the gurgler, making Mayan cichlids only the second cichlid I've caught on the surface, behind butterfly peacock bass. After it was clear that there were a bunch of them around and we'd be able to get enough for a meal, we decided to keep a bunch for dinner. Mayan cichlids are my favorite freshwater fish to eat of the number of species I have taken.

Cichlasoma urophthalmus

When we did get to the spillway that was our main objective, it didn't take many casts to prove that what we hoped was true was true. Spillways are tarpon and snook magnets. I retrieved the gurgler about five feet from where my third cast fell and then let it sit for a moment. While it was still a 15lb tarpon came up and smoked it. I whiffed completely. Now excited, Noah and I peppered that spillway for a while, to no avail. So we made our way back downriver, taking time to catch as many cichlids as we could. I also stopped, cast at, and missed the largest bowfin I had ever seen. That was an unpleasant experience. We deemed this stretch of water worth a return visit and headed back to camp to fry up some fish. Fried panfish is a comfort food for me these days. Fried panfish are reliable, they always get the job done. There are certain experiences that make these budget fishing/camping trips worthwhile over a more luxurious alternative. These are some of those thing...

...comfort food and sunsets. Living in the swamp is pretty enjoyable. 

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.

Thank you to my Patrons; Erin, David, John, Elizabeth, Brandon, Christopher, Shawn, Mike, Sara, Leo, and Franky for supporting this blog on Patreon.