About a year ago, I had the good fortune of sharing 10 days
or so with my family in Florida. It wasn’t a “fishing vacation”, but we did get to share several days on
the water. Whether it was swimming from
the beach, viewing Key Largo’s reefs and fishes through a glass-bottomed boat,
snorkeling, hand-feeding marina tarpon, or Islamorada charter fishing; we
played together (hard!), and collectively shared a bunch of cool
experiences. Each was better than I
could have asked for, planned or expected.
I still day-dream of floating above the reefs in warm water, observing
as many fish types and behaviors as possible.
I’m still astounded at the quality and variety of the reef habitats we
accessed, the liveliness of the ocean regardless of where we were. Barracuda, sea turtles, sharks, bait and
predators; all there, readily available to our fairly casual observations. I was both excited and yet fulfilled at their
presence (I’ll admit it, I was geeked!)
and I remain so, knowing of their
continued presence. In comparison, I fondly recall Marie’s bliss on the Fort Lauderdale
beach with a slice of Cheesecake Factory cake, Katie’s pleasure at Harry Potter
World, and Amy’s constant companionship and her pure joy in her family. And of course, I remember the fishing.
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| Ooh..Barracuda! |
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| Katie in Key Largo |
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| Marie can appreciate Ft. Lauderdale! |
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| All my girls |
Our first fishing trip
was scheduled for Tuesday morning. The
marine forecast was promising, but just about every day had featured some
intense tropical rain storms. So of
course, I woke up early to the sound of thunder, and with a companion scheduled
on another boat, I glumly watched a gray sunrise get obliterated by sheets of
rain. Later, we donned our gear (we may
have been the only family at Hawk’s Key with full rain gear) and met Captain
Joffrey at the dock. To my pleasant surprise, he put our comfort and enjoyment
before Eagle Eye’s bottom line, and comparing schedules, we were able to
re-book for Wednesday evening. Captain
Joffrey seemed excited by this prospect, as the snappers were reportedly
spawning and he doesn’t get to do too much evening/off-hours fishing. (He also probably didn’t want to fish in the
rain.) We left the dock with the gift of
the prospect of more comfortable fishing, a hot breakfast, an open day of
shopping and exploration, and (for me) another day to day-dream of the fish to
come.
Wednesday morning we
sailed aboard the vessel Blue and snorkeled a nearby reef. Conditions weren’t perfect for snorkeling
(cloudy and choppy), but visibility was still decent, and I was impressed by
the predators. Compared to what we saw
in Key Largo, there were a lot more snappers, groupers and mackerel. This session maintained my enthusiasm for The
Keys.
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| Blue's navigation aid...nice! |
Wednesday evening, we
watched Joffrey and other boats’ mates clean a collection of snappers and
amberjacks. Some of the reef donkeys
(AJs) were huge, and as we boarded Eagle Eye (a bit late because of all
the fish cleaning and between-charter chores) in comfortable, but clouding,
conditions, I hoped to share something really cool with my family. I didn’t quite know what to expect; I’d never
done this type of fishing. But I was
looking for something new, some beautiful fish, some slipping drags; and for
the entire family to be involved and active in our pursuit.
After a short run in
modest seas, we anchored in pretty shallow water (35 feet or so, still in patch
reefs). A couple of light spinners were
broken out, an oatmeal and fish oil chum line established, and small cut
baits were free-lined behind the boat. A
take was signaled by a jump in the line and increased speed of line loss; and
hooks were set simply by flipping the bail and tightening up. The girls caught on quickly, and a steady
stream of fish started to come over the rail.
A little variety at first (needlefish, gray surgeon, white grunt), but
then the targeted yellowtail snappers arrived; and we probably could have
caught these all night. Captain Joffrey
offered the choice; more of this or the possibility of some bigger snapper
offshore. As a family we chose to
prospect for bigger fish; and under decreasing light conditions (it was nearing
sunset, and the clouds continued to thicken), we headed to an offshore,
man-made reef in 240 fow.
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| Yellowtail! |
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| Katie's enjoying the easy reef fishing. |
This fishing was done
with heavier conventional gear (braid to fluoro, with a 6 or 8 ounce sinker on
a fish-finder rig), and the baits were live runners, snappers, pinfish and
grunts. As the boat was positioned and
the gear prepared, the kids saw a fin slicing the surface of the water. Shark or dolphin? We’ll never know, as we didn’t get an
identifying look. Two baits were delivered
to the bottom and reels held in free-spool.
In quick order, I was hooked up, and I was initially impressed. This fish pulled! After a few strong runs I got the fish turned
and played it carefully to the boat.
Captain Joffrey reminded me to keep pressure on the fish and make time,
because he was quite certain of the presence of sharks, and didn’t want to lose
the catch to them. Soon there-after, I
was fairly stunned as I held my first mutton snapper; a high-teen beast that
wouldn’t be matched.
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| First ever mutton snapper |
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| Fish On! for Katie |
Next Katie hooked up,
and she couldn’t control it. Was it a
big AJ like we’d seen at the docks? With
Joffrey’s coaching she pressured the fish as much as she dared; and then was
sharked. This was the end of the action
here, and as mate Brian re-rigged, we moved to a broken ship-wreck in about 150 fow. The fishing here was pretty fast and furious;
the bait of choice was a reverse-hooked, butterflied ballyhoo, and five more
nice muttons came aboard. At the height
of the action, Joffrey and Brian engaged in a high-five as (name)
struggled with her snapper. Meanwhile,
the clouds were probably thickening (but it was dark, so how would I know?),
and the frequency of distant lightning increased.
As what I assumed to
be the last fish of the evening was landed, a closer and more vivid lightning
strike prompted Captain Joffrey to call it a night, and we pointed towards the
Duck Key channel marker. I was surprised
to see more lightning across the Keys, Gulf-side. I was enjoying myself, but I didn’t want to
be trapped in an electric storm, and I certainly didn’t want that for my
family. This was a little too exciting
for Amy; and Captain Joffrey’s quiet reminder to not touch any metal on the
boat didn’t help. He did a good job of
getting us in quickly, negotiating some choppy seas and the marked channel. “
No Wake” requirements be damned, and the same to the folks who are warm, dry and safe in their
canal-side homes, and yet who might take offense at our speed. Nevertheless, by the time Eagle Eye was
docked, the electricity was dissipated and we were still dry.
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| Even the pros are enjoying this! |
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| Marie and Mate Brian - all smiles |
My mind a blur of
yellowtails, muttons and sharks, my perspective undoubtedly skewed by the size
of our muttons, amped up by electrical storms, and with the next day’s pelagic
adventures just hours away, I showered and went to sleep.
In a blink I was up
again, and Katie and I prepared to go offshore for mahi. The weather matched the forecast (fine!) and
fresh off the success of the previous night, we returned to the Eagle Eye
for our morning departure. Here we were
met my Captain Jim, and he confirmed our desire to go offshore, but warned us
that heavier seas and unseasonably poor dolphin fishing could change the day’s
plans. We agreed to warm up with some
reef fishing and to take the day from there.
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| Eagle Eye, a 26-foot Regulator, ready to go |
After a slightly
longer initial run than the previous evening, we anchored at the edge of the
reef in about 85 fow. The same chumming
tactics and light spinners were employed, but this time our 1/32-ounce
chartreuse yellowtail jigs were tipped with frozen silversides. The drifts were longer, and it took a while
to get the bite going, but as the sun climbed we enjoyed steady action from
larger yellowtail snappers (Captain Jim’s favorite!) and a variety of other
fish, including remoras, bonitos, mangrove snappers, and the occasional,
unstoppable mystery fish. These were
probably groupers dining on our hooked snappers, and some of these totally
overmatch the tackle; but we were right on the verge of turning some of these,
and I fought one for quite a while before it managed to rock up and cut me
off. While we didn’t catch any true
“flag” yellowtails, we caught some quality ones to 18 inches or so; and these
bigger snappers were worthy fish on this tackle. Perhaps the fishing highlight of the morning
was breaking off a fish while Katie struggled to subdue hers; and then watching
Mate Daniel try to comically net her mangrove snapper with the bait net, for
fear of breaking it off on the lift or swing into the boat.
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| Yellowtail |
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| Surprise Mangrove |
After a couple of
hours of this, just as I was noticing the calming seas and brightening skies
and starting to wonder about our offshore prospects, Captain Jim declared that
it was time to give it a shot if we were willing; and we jumped at the
chance. The offshore target would be
dolphin; but tuna, sailfish, wahoo and even raising marlin were possible. This fishing would involve a lot of hunting;
watching the seas and skies for weeds, rips or birds while running; quickly
deploying a couple of plastic chugger baits on flat lines behind the boat and
prospecting likely areas at about 8 knots.
Any action could keep us in an area; no action meant picking up lines
and continuing the search.
On about the third
set, the rod on my side of the boat jumped dramatically, and as I grabbed the
rod and picked up some slack, a dolphinfish announced his presence with a high,
iridescent jump. He wasn’t big
(somewhere between chicken and lifter?), but he was beautiful, and he fought
like a true gamefish. The mood on the
boat shifted from heightened expectation to satiated relief; and with this
small fish’s capture, I achieved some sort of bucket-list milestone. “ I gazed
with wide wonder at the joy I had found” and at his beauty. But the satiety and wonder faded with his
color; and it was time for another!
He had come in as a single,
with no apparent schoolmates, and so the search began anew. Shortly, Katie’s rod jumped and bowed; the
drag growled and now we were really mahi fishing! This fish was as good as the first,
plus! He was big, he was determined, he
was aerial. He was yellow, he was green,
he was blue. When he came to the gaff,
Katie’s smile said it all. The Keys were
only 20 miles away, but this was a separate world, and we were there, together! It still seems inconceivable to me that we
shared this and pulled it off with such good fortune.
There was another,
mid-size dolphin to be caught after a few more sets; I mostly remember the
electric blue edging on his fins. But
Captain Jim had the good sense to save some time and baits for a couple of deep
drops on the previous evening’s artificial reef in 240 fow. I think the baits were blue runners and
grunts, but it’s a blur, and in any case, they didn’t last long. First drop to the bottom resulted in a quick strike for me, and I was tight to a fish with a much worse attitude than the muttons of the previous night. This was fun! And while the muttons are reportedly delicious (the source, I expect, of their popularity with the natives), I expressed my appreciation of the moment to Captain Jim. Thinking "Amberjack", he replied that this fish wouldn't eat so well; but I didn't care. We didn't know for sure what it was until it circled the boat, and I was pleased to see my first sizable Jack Crevalle. His reputation had preceded him, and was well earned.
With my "big' fish" in the boat and released, I thought it was pretty gutsy for the Eagle Eye crew to then suit up Katie with the fighting belt, and have her drop a single bait by herself. The bait couldn't have been much more than halfway down before she got bit, tightened up and engaged in the fight to end all fights this day. Her fish turned out to be an Amberjack, aka Reef Donkey of about 30 pounds. Not the giants that we had seen the night before, but still enough of a fish to make a grown man cry.
Our time was done; we rode smooth seas in under full power (for the first time all day). Nice boat, nice tackle, nice fish, nice day; all serious understatements. Marie and Amy were waiting for us at the dock, Captain Jim had a cold beer ready for me while he cleaned some of our fish, Katie and I were on seriously good terms; all was good with me. The only way to make the day better was to take a pit stop, a shower, deliver our fish to Tom's Harbor House Restaurant, and enjoy our last evening at Hawk's Key. Each was accomplished in quick succession.
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| Jack crevalle |
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| Reef Donkey On! |
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| Katie's largest fish yet - a Reef Donkey that could make a grown man cry! |
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| Mahi and snapper prepared three ways; with sides! |
Now, a year later,
the fishing recollections are still with me, but they are not, perhaps, as strong
as my memories of being in the water. Perhaps
that’s my natural element. Neither are my fishing memories as
strong as the images I retain of each of my girls at the beach, at the park,
pool-side. Perhaps those are their natural elements. Slightly different than mine, but openly
shared, for which I’m thankful.
Near the end of our
vacation, a cabbie in Fort Lauderdale offered to switch lives with me
without hesitation. He didn’t know my
occupation, wealth status, politics or criminal record. He simply knew automatically (just from my
presence from out of town) that I had it good, that my life lacked many of his
issues. Just like I can’t imagine
scratching out a living for my family as a service provider in a foreign
country, he couldn’t imagine the ease and bliss of a family vacation, and all
the factors that make one possible. So
yes, he had access to the Treasure Coast’s Gulf Stream, temperate weather and
South Florida glitz; but not to my world of security, recreation, and
love. With a similar lack of hesitation,
I declined his offer.
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