I haven't been doing much fishing or hunting recently. And because of that, I haven't had much to write about. But I haven't, however, been sitting around idly. I've actually been planning quite the kayak fishing adventure, and it less than three weeks, I'll set off on my journey to start the new year.
I will be paddling the Everglades Wilderness Waterway in it's entirety and fishing it the whole way. Based off of the path I have planned, the entire thing should take me 8 days to paddle in my kayak and about 110 miles to complete. I will also be paddling this alone.
I've mapped out my path and each stop as shown above. Some camp sites are ground sites while others are chickees. If you don't know what a chickee is, it's pretty much just a raised platform above the water with a roof and no walls. These are placed out in the 10,000 islands because there's little to no solid ground in the endless mangrove maze.
The planning process is still underway. I've been making/going through checklists and trying to get all my ducks in a row. Where I'll launch, where I'll finish, who will pick me up, etc. These are all things I've been trying to sort out in addition to just gear. But I will have a chance while on this trip to do quite a bit of gear testing. I've got a stove, and several other pieces of equipment that I plan on putting through the wringer over the 8 day paddle.
I'm a little nervous and very excited about taking this trip. I've never done anything quite like this before, so not only will it be an experience of a lifetime, but also a huge learning experience. With any luck, I'll learn quite a bit about fishing in the backcountry, and maybe even land some fish in the process.
But overall, I'm really looking forward to this trip. I may post my plan, in detail, prior to leaving as well as my checklists for gear and what not. After I return, I'm sure I'll have some things to change up about my planning process and might come out of it with a good "how-to". Stay tuned!
The longer I've kept up this blog, the better I've gotten at taking pictures while out on the boat or in the field. However, every once in a while, I fail miserably at taking pictures. My Flamingo trip happened to be one of those instances.
The strange part was that we actually caught fish. The fishing was great to be honest. Once again, the wind wasn't cooperating, so the first thing my dad and I did after launching was motor over to a key that was out of the wind. While using the trolling motor to ease around the mangroves, I noticed the obscene amount of mullet schooled up along the edge of the trees. There were literally thousands. Had I brought the cast net with us, I doubt I would have been strong enough to pull up the net once thrown.
The best part was that there were big schools of Reds mixed in with these mullet, and it wasn't long before both my dad and I had a double hook up.
Unfortunately (and I still don't know what happened), these are the only two pictures I took that day. We caught more Reds, and even a few Snook. But for some reason, I just forgot. In hind sight, I'm kind of glad I didn't take more pictures.
It's often always difficult for me to just -stop- fishing and take out the camera for snap shots. I get into that "zone" where taking pictures, or even thinking about anything but my next cast would just throw me off. I was having a blast, and catching fish. So in all reality, my lack of pictures is a good sign. Sometimes I just like to keep the memories upstairs rather than have a picture. It makes the experience that much sweeter.
Later in the day, the mullet started to move farther from the mangroves and out onto the flats. I kept hearing something big splashing, but could never lay eyes on it. We finally rounded the corner on a key and I saw what was making all the splashing: Dolphin. But they weren't just frolicking. They were feeding. But feeding doesn't quite give what they were doing justice. It was a total National Geographic moment.
I sat in awe for a moment as I watched this. I'm usually violently angry mildly perturbed when dolphin show up. But this was just amazing. It was something I wanted to get a picture of, so I turned around in the boat to get my camera...
To see a 70lb Tarpon right off the bow.
It's amazing how quickly priorities can change while out fishing. One second, my mind is completely focused on the dolphin show, National Geographic, and taking pictures. The next, I'm double hauling my 8wt. for all it's worth at this Tarpon. Dolphin? What dolphin?
Amazingly, I managed to put the fly right where it belonged. However, with the way the fish was angled, my fly line landed right across his back, and he quickly disappeared into the milky green water.
And that was the end of my excitement for the day. The tide rips out of Flamingo and if you aren't careful, you'll end up with a boat stuck in 6 inches of water for half the day. We called it quits once the tide really started to dip low, and headed back to the launch. Much like the backcountry, the area around Flamingo is huge. It would take forever to figure it all out. What makes one flat, or cut, or key better than another is anybody's guess as far as I'm concerned. We were lucky enough to find fish, and have an awesome time doing it. So really, you can't ask for much more. I'll work on my picture taking, but if I fail again, I don't think it'll bother me -too- much. It just means I was catching fish.
I believe I left off in Part I with the loss of a behemoth Snook.
I wasn't really even upset that I'd lost this fish. After all, the chances of landing it on such light tackle were slim to none. But nevertheless, I wish I had at least gotten to fight it for longer than 3 seconds.
It was getting late and my dad and I were both pretty tired. We kicked up the trolling motor, and started making our way back to the boat ramp. On the way back, however, we decided to make one more stop just to see what we couldn't catch.
The area was out of the wind and the mangroves butted up against some fairly deep water. After lowering the trolling motor and cutting the engine, I proceeded to launch a flawless cast approximately 30 feet up into the mangrove swamp. I honestly don't think my DOA shrimp had even the slightest chance of finding water with such a cast. Since we were running so low on DOA's for the day, it was decided that the best option was to use the trolling motor to get up into the mangroves and try to free the lure.
After several minutes of maneuvering, ducking, pulling, cursing, and swatting at mosquitos, the little shrimp was finally free. We were now pretty deep in the mangroves, even underneath some. I noticed that there were several small pools of water around the base of some of the mangrove roots. These, however, we about 5-6 feet away from the boat. I still don't exactly know why...maybe just for gits and shiggles...but I underhand tossed my shrimp into one of these pools and watched it sink. Gave it a twitch...and BOOM. A snook inhaled it, turned with it, and broke me off on the roots.
We couldn't believe we'd gotten so close with the boat and still managed to hook a fish. I proceeded to tie on my last DOA, and give it another try. This time, in a different little pool, but still just as close as before. Sink. Twitch. Boom. Snook.
We did this for the entire stretch of shoreline, stopping every few feet to drop a shrimp into the hole. I desperately wanted to toss a fly to these fish, but it would have never worked. Even the fly rod itself would have been too long to wield amongst the limbs and roots. We made the choice to back out of the trees just a bit, and I gave the fly rod a go. By this point, cloud cover had moved in, and it seemed like the fish were readily leaving their cover in the shade of the mangroves to hunt a little farther out.
After casting half of my rod into the water, getting my fly line tangled on the trolling motor, and casting my deceiver into the mangroves countless times, I was on the verge of just throwing the whole fly rod into the water. It amazes me how fly fishing can look so relaxing and elegant at a distance, yet once up close, it can give even the most seasoned angler an aneurysm from pure frustration. But once again, the fishing god's smiled upon me, and my troubles were rewarded.
Having eventually had our fill, we ran back to the dock and called it a day. That evening we stocked up on DOA's and heavy Florocarbon for leaders. We awoke even earlier the next morning, and took off for Flamingo well before light.
One thing I had noticed on our first day was that I never saw a single Snook striking or chasing bait on the surface or underneath the trees. We got out onto the water about an hour earlier this day and the -very- first thing I see is Snook striking bait all over the place. First cast of the day resulted in a Snook and the bite kept up like that for about 30-40 minutes. My dad and I both caught Snook and hoooked and lost baby tarpon. I always seem to forget just how hard one must set the hook on a Tarpon, so we failed to land any of them.
The sun got just a little higher in the horizon, and it was like someone flipped a light switch. The bite completely stopped. No more bait being chased. No more Snook and Tarpon hitting the surface. And no more hook ups. It seems that it was once again a prime example of how game species keep horrible hours. Early early, and late late.
With the bite now completely off, we decided to just go explore. We took off into Whitewater Bay, and just worked various shorlines that were out of the wind. I did manage to convince a nice Red to come out from under the mangroves and chase my DOA, but I wasn't paying attention and worked the shrimp to the boat before he could grab it.
After a few hours we made our way back to the ramp, stopping at a few spots along the way. We saw a manatee that, like always, scared the crap out of us (we don't exactly see a lot of them in Pensacola), and we even managed to land a few small Snook on the way back.
Overall, the Everglades Backcountry was an amazing fishing trip. I was pleased that we actually managed to find fish to catch. The place is giant and depending on the time of day, year, and tides, one can either do great or get completely skunked. I think that like most places, being able to consistently catch fish just requires the angler to put in the time and do his/her homework. A lifetime honestly isn't enough time to learn the Everglades. It's just too big. But I'd still love to try.
Stay tuned. Florida Bay/Keys fishing report, right around the corner!
I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. I wanted to scream. What my poor eyes had just witnessed was beyond comprehension for a few moments. I was fishing in the Gulf off of Cape San Blas near Port St. Joe Florida in my kayak and was busy catching live bait with a Sabiki rig. I had caught a perfect sized Bluerunner and set about hooking it on my bigger rod to catch King Mackerel. My dad and I had seen King jumping all morning, so I had high hopes that this day would be the day I finally landed one in the yak. Thanks to the wind, I was slowly drifting farther and farther offshore and I put my King rod in the rod holder with the live Bluerunner so it could be dragged behind my drift. My bait catching rod was laying in my lap with only 2 feet of the Sabiki rig dangling in the water next to the kayak. Suddenly, something grabbed the Sabiki rig while I was messing with the King rod and with a quick jerk, sent my Shimano rod and reel into the Gulf and disappearing into the milky green water forever. I had no time to react.
Speechless. I couldn't even think of a good enough curse word to fit the situation. I just sat there in silence as I looked into the deep green water where my rod and reel was being dragged around somewhere below by a spanish or baitfish. I turned the yak around, and paddled back closer to shore after a shark stole my blue runner. I honestly just wanted to leave. Just go back to the motel, go to sleep, and try it again later that day. My dad, however, convinced me not to, and boy was I thankful for that.
We started floating frozen cigar minnows behind the kayak with balloons in hopes of catching a King. It wasn't long, however, that we both started pulling in sharks. Lots of sharks.
My dad soon gave up on floating balloons and started slow trolling the cigs. Almost immediately my dad was hooked up and I heard him say what I thought was "King!". Turns out I was hearing the tail end of a common four letter word that is often turned into an adjective because my dad had hooked another shark. Regardless, I took my balloon off the line because I too wanted to catch a King. I cast my cig out behind the boat, and began paddling closer to my dad. Within just a few seconds, my rod was doubled over and the line was screaming. I couldn't turn around fast enough but I noticed some HUGE jump behind the boat. All I caught was the end of the splash. I finally wrestled the rod from the rod holder behind me, set the hook, and noticed that I was being spooled quickly. I tightened the drag, and the fish's run stopped. What happened next was a shock. A big tarpon jumped right in front of me!
"I got a tarpon!!", I yelled at my dad as I began my (soon to be) two mile Tibetan sleigh ride. I could tell it was a big fish just by how quickly I was being dragged offshore. My dad started to follow me and at one point, he couldn't paddle fast enough to keep up with my ride. After a few minutes, I tried to back the drag down a little bit on the old Shimano 650 Baitrunner, but to my dismay, the drag began to fail. I had to grab the top of the reel in order to keep the fish from just swimming off. I played with the drag a little more and finally settled it out WAY higher than it should have been. The fish almost couldn't take any line out and I was nearly herniating myself every time it -should- have taken out line.
After a 20 minute, two mile fight, I got the fish close enough to the kayak that I could now see it. It fought under the boat for a few more minutes and even rammed the bottom of the kayak hard enough that it lifted the bow up. I soon lip gaffed it, dropped the lip gaff from the fish going crazy, regained control of the gaff, and pulled the fish's head into the boat.
After unhooking it, I set about trying to revive it. It took only a few minutes before the fish had enough strength to swim on its own and I let it go into the murky green water. It was an absolutely awesome experience and one that I kinda hope to never have again. I've caught big 150+lb tarpon from a power boat before as well as 30lb'rs from the kayak. But this fish beat me to pieces. The rod butt bruised both my abs and groin muscles and I thought I'd never make it back to shore with my sore arms. I actually think that instead of reeling the fish in, I just pulled myself to the fish the whole fight. But at the end of the day, the fish helped me shake off losing the rod and reel and definitely made my trip. A big thanks to my dad for not only paddling out with me to take the picture, but also raging at the sharks and inadvertently tipping me off for the right tarpon set up. Hopefully, if this ever happens again, I'll have that helmet camera and be able to catch the whole thing on film.
The following is a report from an Everglades trip during the summer of 2008. I've also made a link to this page as an "Action Photo Prompt" through the Outdoor Blogger Network. I misunderstood the directions for the photo prompt so to actually see the 'action' shots, scroll to the middle of the story :)
It amazes me how far one can drive in Florida and never actually leave the state. I blame the its goofy, dog leg shape. It's especially far if one drives from Pensacola to the Everglades. In fact, the only possible way to make a longer trip within the state is to keep going to Key West. Bottom line, the drive sucks and lasts anywhere from 11 hours to an eternity.
In the summer of 2008, my dad and I drove the grueling 11 hours down to Homestead, Fl to fish for exotics, Tarpon, and Snook. Our first stop while down there was Holiday Park, just south of Alligator Alley. The place was a nut house when we arrived. Airboats, motorboats, and people everywhere. We drove to the back of the park near the RV campground and noticed a small canal running due south out of the park. The best part was that there wasn't a soul in it because there was no boat launch. So my dad and I unloaded the yaks from the truck and proceeded to launch the kayaks from the near vertical bank...snapping a rod tip in the process.
After launching and fighting our way through a thick mat of Lilly pads and Hydrilla, my dad and I had the canal to ourselves. Luckily, at this point in my life, I had yet to be bitten by the fly fishing bug. Yes, I enjoyed fly fishing, but only for a few minutes at a time and I didn't have the overwhelming urge to catch -everything- on a fly rod. After about 20 minutes of no luck with the fly rod, I brought out the bream buster and began drowning live worms.
To my surprise, I was having very little luck even with live bait. Fish were few and far between but after a few hours I had managed to put a decent amount of bluegill and exotics in the cooler.
The primary exotic fish caught in this particular canal was the Spotted Tilapia. It's not an actual tilapia. In fact, its another form of cichlid. But just like all other cichlids, it fights like a fish weighing 10lbs heavier than it really does.
Spotted Tilapia
With almost no success on the fly rod the first day, my dad wanted to head into the Everglades National Park to try our luck with Tarpon or Snook. The park is located just a few miles outside of Homestead and we arrived early the next morning. We parked at the visitor's center and my dad wandered inside to use the bathroom. Being bored and curious, I stepped out of the truck and walked over to take a look at a large map of the park that had been put up on a display sign. I hadn't been outside of the truck for more than 30 seconds before I realized I had made a mistake. One look down at my legs confirmed my fears: my legs were black with thousands of mosquitoes. They proceeded to reduce me to a mixture of a screaming 10 yr. old girl and a shriveled husk from blood loss in just a few seconds. I made it back to the truck, slammed the door and set about killing the few hundred I'd let into the cab in the seconds the door was open.
As I sat in the truck and set about hooking up a blood transfusion, a family of tourists parked next to me and hopped out of the minivan to look at the same trap I had just fallen for. I wanted to warn them...tell them to at least keep their two little girls in the car as I feared one of the blood sucking pterodactyls might be able to carry one off...but I was too afraid to open the door or roll down the window. Instead, I watched with mild anticipation as the family realized they'd fallen into a trap.
A few seconds passed and the mother slapped her leg, but continued looking at the map. Almost immediately afterwards the father slapped a bug on his neck, then his arm. The little girls began slapping bugs on their legs in quick succession. Then the mom began slapping her neck, arms, face, back, legs and started screaming and bolted back for the car. The rest of the family followed right behind her, slapping themselves and screaming the whole way. Then they made a near fatal move. Instead of rushing into the car, they opened the back of the minivan and whipped out a can of bug spray. They quickly sprayed themselves down while doing a very unhappy dance. A few seconds passed with the family still spraying, stomping, yelling, and dancing about like their hair was on fire before they realized it was futile and possibly fatal to remain outside and then slammed themselves shut in the van.
Moments later my dad came casually strolling out of the visitor's center. Why mosquitoes rarely bother him is a mystery to me and I envy him every time I have to apply a thick coat of bug spray. He walked up, looked at the sign, and headed back to the truck. As soon as he hopped into the cab with me, another car drove up and parked. "Watch this", I told him as a young couple hopped out of their car and walked over to look at the death trap.
"What am I watching?" my dad asked.
"Just watch these two", I told him as I wide grin came across my face. Sure enough, the couple began slapping themselves, and were sent screaming back to their car. It's hilarious to watch when it isn't happening to you. A few minutes later, another car full of people showed up and stepped out to look at the sign. Once again, they were nearly carried off and slapped and cussed their way back to the car. I wish I had thought to video tape it. Watching this was almost better than fishing....Almost.
We drove into the park and stopped at a lake a few miles in. It looked fishy, so we launched and proceeded to try our luck. Every once in a while, I could see tarpon roll in the distance, but I couldn't get anything to hit. After paddling around for a while, I noticed a small opening in the mangroves and paddled over to it. The opening led to another pond. I slipped my yak through the narrow opening and drifted out into the middle of a deep pond. I cast my top water lure along the edge of the pond and began working it back toward me. Suddenly, the lure exploded and a tarpon was sent skyward underneath it. I watched in shock as my lure landed a few feet ahead of where it had been and the tarpon landed with a splash. I immediately kept up the action of the lure. Another explosion, and the lure went flying again. A few more twitches, a third hit and then the sound of my drag peeling out. The fight was on.
I yelled at my dad in the other pond to come over and kept the tension on the fish. I was nervous the whole time of breaking the fish off on the 12lb test I was using but I bowed every time he jumped, and let him drag the yak in circles in the pond. My dad finally showed up to see the end of the 20 minute battle.
Bow to the King
The fight continues
I finally got the fish close enough to lip and pulled him into the kayak.
This fish made my trip. It was my second Tarpon ever and weighed close to 30 lbs.
I revived him for a few minutes and let him go. Not 5 casts later, I hooked yet another one. This one was much smaller, and it proceeded to drag me into a bunch of mangroves and almost to my death from mosquitoes. One can see from the picture that I'm busy wiping them from my face with my other arm.
We also caught several bass in the pond and missed a few more tarpon. After a while, the bite stopped and we loaded up the truck for the day. The following day, we went back to the Park, but this time fished a different pond. I caught one HUGE Myan Cichlid on a lure, and missed several bass and tarpon. My dad managed to land a very nice Snook as well.
The last morning we were there, we headed into town and bank fished for exotics. I caught my very first Peacock Bass and certainly broke no size records:
A bit later in the morning, we stopped at a different spot and I noticed a big Peacock Bass sitting in the shallows. I began casting everything in the tackle box at it, but it wouldn't take a thing. The last thing I had in the tackle box was a chartreuse double-tailed grub. I tied it on, and cast to the bass in one last hope of at least catching its interest. I was shocked when I did far more than grab its attention...the bass absolutely clobbered it. After a very good fight, I landed the fish and threw it in the cooler.
My 2008 Everglades trip was certainly worth it. I had a blast and found several places to fish in the future. The Tarpon also made the trip for me and I can't wait to go back year after year.
