From Swamp Thing To Beach Bum

"I simply can't take it anymore"

That was my quick and dirty answer to everyone when they asked why I was moving out of South Florida and leaving my job as guide in the Everglades. It had, in fact, broken me. 

I knew prior to moving south from Gainesville to Boca Raton that if I was to ever grow tired of anything, it'd be the people. And that's exactly what happened. I actually loved what I did in South Florida. Even though people who are close to me heard me bitch quite a bit about my job, I actually thoroughly enjoyed it. From the time I picked my guests up, until the time I dropped them off, it rarely felt like work. The rest of the time, however? I really REALLY didn't enjoy. 

Sure there were some bright spots.

I met some cool people. Got to experience some fun things that aren't offered anywhere else. But for the vast majority of my time in South Florida, I simply didn't like it. West Palm Beach to Homestead is essentially one massive city. The biggest city that I've personally ever been in and after a while it took its toll. Commutes to and from work ranged under 10 miles but took hours. The cost of living was outrageous. And the people? I won't blow smoke up your ass...

The people are shit.

 Like I said, I met some cool people, but for the most part, the people are terrible. And not even one demographic over another. Just the people in general. 

I've read several "studies" and reports about urban living. How it can lead to aggressiveness, poor mental health, etc. Though I won't argue with anything they have to say, I really think it just boils down to this: Too many people, too close together. 

The way I see it, you're allowed to be a terrible person and essentially get away with it there. Say, for example, you're at a bar. You drunkenly decide to completely show your ass. Fight the bouncer, throw drinks on someone, whatever. End of it all, you get kicked out. 

So what?

There's so many people that there's almost ZERO chance that you'll ever run into any of the ones you just pissed off ever again. Try that in small town USA and you'll suddenly find yourself with no friends and a bad name for yourself quite quickly. There's no accountability, and I think that just leads to worse people in general. 

Another thing was that I found it extremely challenging to find people who shared the same interests as me. Aside from beer drinking, the only other hobbies I have revolve around the outdoors. Fishing, kayaking, spearfishing, hunting, etc. But when it came to many of the people I met, the most "outdoorsy" they ever got was laying out on the beach. Many had never even seen an Alligator, despite living in South Florida their entire lives. So what in the world do I have in common with them?

There was one evening after work that I stopped by the bar in Deerfield Beach and sat down to unwind before heading home. It wasn't long before two girls my age sat down right next to me. I introduced myself, told them what I did, and chatted with them for a while before finally one of them, Chelsea, stopped me mid sentence...

"Oh my God...so I have to ask...Would it be weird if I got your number to give to my boyfriend?"

"...umm...what?"

"He's a huge outdoorsman and he's been down here for years and hasn't met anyone who's into what he likes"

Fast forward a week and Chelsea's boyfriend, Shaun and I are spearfishing off of the Pompano Beach pier together and are still friends to this day. 

Yeah I made a few friends, but bottom line, I simply wasn't enjoying living there. At one point I actually managed to get so stressed I successfully gave myself Shingles (listen to Terry Bradshaw, it sucks).

Yeah dude. Live around the ancients long enough and you catch that kinda shit. 

 I needed to make a change. ASAP. 

As luck would have it, I have friends scattered all over the state of Florida. I knew that I didn't want to move back to Gainesville. Yes the town is great, but I'm not in school anymore nor am I 21. Unlike most people from Pensacola, I'm still avoiding moving BACK, so that was a pass too. My sister lives in Jacksonville, and that region was a place I'd yet to spend much time in, so why not? I began looking for places and it just so happened that one of my best friends Kiersten was looking for a roommate in a beach house in Saint Augustine. For cheap. 

Put me in coach. 

So I quit my job, led a couple of friends through the Wilderness Waterway one last time (at least I keep telling myself one last time), packed everything up in the truck, and drove myself up to Saint Augustine Beach. 

A 3 story beach house that overlooked the ocean sounded infinitely better than pretty much anything I'd encountered in South Florida, so I was ecstatic. In order for the house to be so cheap, however, it meant living with 4 other people. 

I originally had my reservations, but it didn't take much time for me to fall in love with the beach life and not mind living with 4 others at all. I shared a bathroom and kitchen with a guy named Richard, and we happened to take over the 3rd floor of the house which meant every morning we awoke to a sunrise directly over the ocean. It also took almost no time for all of us to become very close friends. Myself, Richard, Kiersten, and the other two roommates, Casey and Brad, became almost inseparable during our time at this beach house. Days were spent lounging (as I had no job yet), evenings were spent walking the coquina littered beach with beers, and nights were spent partying as often as possible. Eventually (and drunkenly) we decided to name the house/group Casa De Pantelones based off of a painting on the wall that said "Ain't No Party Like A No Pants Party" (yes our name was wrong, I told you we were drunk). 

The whole "moving across the state with no job" thing worried me at times, but thanks to years of seasonal work, I've learned to not be one to fret too much about employment. I'd eventually find -something-. Even if it meant scrubbing toilets with that 5 year college degree. Money is money, after all. 

What I wasn't expecting, however, was to be browsing craigslist one morning and discover an opening for a Kayak/Naturalist Guide right there on Saint Augustine beach. Not to sound full of myself, but I was a shoe in for the position, and it was quickly my full time job. A fact that my mother, upon hearing of said position, and always worrying about my future, simply responded with a sigh and, 

"You always manage to land on your feet...don't you?'

And so I spiraled into a life that I can only describe as being a massive beach bum. I didn't surf, but I kayaked every day. I showed people manatees and dolphins, talked about ecological change, and actually kinda used that degree that I got. I wrapped up work around 2pm at the latest, and I went back to Casa De Pantelones to party on the beach with my friends. Every. Single. Day. Days that I didn't work, I jogged on the beach in the morning, went kayak fishing, and celebrated that I had a day "off". There was a few week period that I didn't even bother wearing shoes. Barefoot, sweat stained, mildly hungover, and sunburned was how I existed. And to be perfectly honest...

I loved it. Who wouldn't?

It's during this time that I began to write my book. I was the proud new owner of more time than I knew what to do with, so why not be somewhat productive? Also, for those those of you who follow my snapchat, this was also the time when I unexpectedly made a best friend in the form of a cat named Jimmy. 

As a lifelong rule, I've disliked cats. Jim, however, was an exception. Maybe it was his three legs, his orange charm, or my incessant need to draw on his missing arm using phone filters. Regardless, he remains one of my favorite animals to this day, and if you miss him, there's always this instagram profile that I may or may not have shamelessly made for him: 

https://www.instagram.com/jimmyonearms/

Then came the day that our asshole, massive piece of shit, lint licking, mom-please don't-read-these-cusswords landlord decided to cancel our lease 8 months early to instead rent to some of his friends and take our entire security deposit. Casa De Pantelones was no more. 

An easy solution would be to find another house, right? In theory, yes. But in practicality (and against equal opportunity housing laws) no one was willing to rent to 5 different adults who were unrelated and not married. The rental market in Saint Augustine is garbage. If it isn't snowbirds who'd rather rent vacation homes than monthly residences, it's bottom feeders like Phil Martocci (see previous "landlord") who renege on lease agreements. So in the long run, we couldn't find a place all together and had to split, just a few months after I'd settled into a new town. 

I soon moved into a different house on the beach with Brad and Richard, while Kiersten and Casey found an apartment together a few miles away. Sadly, life on the beach was nothing more than a shadow of what it used to be. Was it still fun? Absolutely. Was I still a beach bum? Pretty much. I did pick up a second job as a salesman pushing Citrus, Pecans, Fireworks, and Wine (like I said, money is money). But my initial life and introduction to Saint Augustine was long gone. Looking back, it was one of the most memorable, enjoyable, and fleeting few months I've ever experienced. I quickly found myself in a gated old folks community on the wrong side of A1A. We were the youngest in the neighborhood by around 40 years and between nosy seniors and the homeowners association, my time there was VASTLY different than my time in the previous home (those stories are for another post). 

My time in Saint Augustine was infinitely better than the time spent in South Florida, but much like my life in Casa De Pantelones, I would soon find it too, to be fleeting. After all, one can only be a beach bum for so long. 

Surf's Up: Guide to Surf Fishing

This article was originally posted on the Pocket Ranger blog: http://pocketrangerblog.com/surfs-up-guide-to-surf-fishing/

Pocket Ranger is a mobile app company that offers a variety of guides, tips, and services for outdoor adventuring via their app. I was approached last year about writing informative articles on hunting and fishing for their blog and gladly obliged. This particular style of writing isn't something I'm used to as most articles are "how-to's" and will be labeled as such on this blog. But it's something I kind of enjoyed writing to get a bit outside of my comfort zone. They're all much different than my usual ramblings. More information on Pocket Ranger can be found here: http://www.pocketrangerexchange.com/apps 
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Beaches are some of the most traveled to places in the world. People flock from all over the country to visit beaches. Whether it’s spring break, summer vacation, or an escape from winter freezes, the beach is a year round destination for people. The simple thought of the beach often conjures up images of sun, sand, waves, and swimsuits. But one thing that is often overlooked is the opportunity to surf fish.
An incredibly wide range of fish can be caught year round from most of our country’s beaches. One can expect to catch anything from Pompano to sharks depending upon when and where they decide to fish. The actual process of surf fishing is relatively simple. Selecting and using the right gear is the first step.

From rods to reels, and everything in between.

A rod and reel is, of course, the most important piece of gear to bring to the beach… at least if you plan to catch fish. Now I’m sure there are quite a few die-hard surf fishermen out there who will go on and on about why you should use this length rod with this size reel, but in all reality, one generally has quite a bit of room to play around here. More often than not when surf fishing, the longer the rod the better. A long rod can make distance casting easier. It also plays an important role in keeping your line above breaking waves. However, a long rod isn’t always the way to catch fish. Many fish species such as Pompano or Whiting will cruise right along the edge of the beach, making short casts with smaller rods a better option.
Possibly one of the most important pieces of gear (next to a rod and reel) is a sand spike. Drive these into the sand near the water’s edge in order to have a rod holder. These spikes can be made easily out of PVC pipe and by cutting an end at an angle; one can make driving the spike into the ground much easier. For harder packed sands, a rubber mallet proves useful in driving the sand spikes.
The next thing to consider is what to actually throw to the fish. I like to tie my rigs using 12 pounds Fluorocarbon with 2-3 droppers for hooks coming off the main line. A regular barrel swivel is tied to one end and a snap swivel is tied to the other. The snap swivel is where the pyramid weight is attached and helps make storage in the tackle box much easier. Each rig is between 2.5 to 3 ft in length and orange beads can be attached to each dropper to act as an attractant.
Hook selection really depends on what you are trying to catch. Some fishermen swear by circle hooks while others prefer J hooks. Personally, I like to use J hooks simply because they are easier to hide inside the bait than a circle hook. Bait generally consists of dead shrimp, sand fleas (often called mole crabs), or small crabs.

Location, location, location!

Selecting a proper spot on the beach is the final step in surf fishing. Not all spots along the shore are created equal. Some are much better than others. Wave action will usually carve deep cuts in the bottom and strong currents can form shallow points that jut out perpendicular to the shore. These cuts, or holes, are often found on the down-current side of the shallow points. It’s these holes that hold the fish. Simply set your rod (or rods) up along the hole and cast out into the middle of it. Make sure that the line is tight when the rod is placed back into the sand spike in order to see a strike.

It will take some getting used to, but a trained eye can easily tell between waves moving the rod tip, and an actual fish strike. One can expect to catch Pompano, Whiting, Black Drum, Red Drum, Bluefish, or Sheepshead depending upon the time of year and the location. It’s not a bad idea either to bring a light rod for sight casting should a school of Spanish Mackerel or Little Tunny show up to chase bait. Lead head jigs or “pompano jigs” work like a charm.
It is wise to bring a cooler if you expect to keep fish, and a comfortable chair can be a life saver.  So the next time you’re planning to hit the beach, bring some fishing gear along with that sunscreen and take advantage of the fabulous fishing that passes so many by.

The Great 2012 Skunking

It was bound to happen again eventually. If you fish enough, it's simply -going- to happen.

I got skunked.

And though I generally find an unproductive fishing trip to be less than noteworthy, this one was special.

As any of my regular readers may have noticed, I've been terribly quiet lately. It's not because I haven't wanted to write anything, but rather, the fact that I haven't -done- anything. Absolutely nothing outdoor related over the past three weeks. It seems like every time I schedule a fishing trip around my days off, the weather turns bad and I don't go.

But I got off work for a few days and made the long Jeep ride back to Pensacola for Thanksgiving. My initial plan was to fish Tuesday evening, Wednesday morning and evening, and Thanksgiving morning. That...didn't happen. I arrived a bit later than planned Tuesday, and rather than go fish, my dad and I opted to go to the gun range. After a full day of driving and shooting, my head found my old bed at my parents house and I was out like a light. Slept right through my alarm at 0530 the next morning, and well into mid morning.

Not wishing to waste any more time on something as silly as sleep, I was resolved to go fish Wednesday afternoon. And go fish I did. My dad and I launched the Gheenoe into the upper Escambia river in search of Flounder, Trout, and Reds.

We explored some new territory and I fairly consistently had fish strike at my lure. Small fish, but fish none the less. I was, however, not landing anything. I kept this up until sunset, and ended the trip without a single fish.

After dinner that evening, I decided I simply couldn't handle getting skunked for the day. I called up one of my best friends that I've known since Kindergarten, and forced him to come beach fishing with me at night. I figured I could at least catch a hardhead catfish and just call it a bad day of fishing. While loading the truck up, my dad asked me,

"You're going beach fishing...at night?"

"Well yeah...why?"

"You aren't gonna catch anything"

"Have you ever been beach fishing at night?"

"Well...no."

My buddy and I arrived at the beach a little before 10pm. I tossed out 3 rods with two shrimp each. The water was dead calm and it was a clear, chilly night.

At 12am I pulled in the rods, and tossed my 6 untouched and slightly waterlogged shrimp into the gulf. My dad was right. I'd been skunked.

So why was this noteworthy? Well, to be honest, I wasn't bothered in the least by the fact that I hadn't caught the first fish. Of course I went fishing to actually -catch- fish, but I still had a blast. I realized while I was home that I hadn't actually been back to Pensacola in a LONG time. And being gone means that I've missed out on quite a lot in my family's and friend's lives. So the way I see it, getting to catch up with them when I oversleep, spend time on the boat, freeze to death on the beach at night, and stuff our faces full of turkey was definitely worth it. And worth far more than landing some fish. Very rarely is it all about the fish...

Note: I'm currently in the planning process of some big hunting/fishing trips along with some gear reviews. So my current internet silence in just the calm before the storm. Stay tuned!

Upcoming Fishing Trips

I've slacked a bit on my writing the past week. I've been fairly busy and to be honest, I haven't been out to hunt or fish since I shot my buck.

Luckily this will all change come this weekend. The beach is calling my name.

I (miraculously) worked out my school schedule and rather than leave to head home for Thanksgiving next Tuesday, I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon (Friday). This gives me 10 days off, and plenty of chances to go fish. From what I've heard, and from personal experience, the big Bull Reds are starting to move into Pensacola, and I'll have a few shots at them this year.

Last Thanksgiving I was able to get my girlfriend her first over-slot red pretty easily, and this year I'd like to catch quite a few myself.

Weather permitting, I'll get the kayak wet as well and maybe catch a few trout and flounder. Expect some reports to roll in sometime next week! Have a happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Christmas Fishing

There seems to be a relationship between terrible weather and my time spent back home. Every time I drive back to Pensacola it storms and I get the thrill of freezing cold rainwater dripping on my legs through the openings in my Jeep. If, for some bizarre reason, it doesn't storm while I'm driving to Pensacola, mother nature makes up for it by providing terrible weather for the duration of my stay.

Christmas was no exception.

The weather was decent enough on the drive back. But it wasn't until I reached the I-10 bridge over Escambia Bay that I could see dark storm clouds rolling in from the west. It proceeded to rain, get cold, rain more, get colder, and rain a little more for the whole Christmas break. The horrible weather kept me out of the kayak for most of the break. I had one opportunity to break out the paddles and I jumped all over it. My dad and I drove down to a bayou that's usually a winter-time honey hole for trout. It's not uncommon to land 75+ fish within just a few hours on a fly rod. However, we've noticed over the years that this particular bayou is either -really- on, or -really- off. Hit or miss. Fantastic or terrible.

We landed a 'miss' day.

I took my ultra-light spinning reel and fished with stingray grubs for close to two hours with absolutely no success. By this time, my dad had finally managed 3 very small trout on a fly rod. I made the switch over to the fly rod and fished for another 30 minutes before I finally landed a small trout.

With that, we called it quits.

Since I failed to catch an over-slot redfish during Thanksgiving break, my dad and I headed out to Ft. Pickens to give it another try. Luckily for us, the weather was stormy with a chance of awful. However, after only being set up for a few minutes, one of the rods doubled over and began screaming out line. I was furthest away from the rod so my dad grabbed it. It turned out to be a 28 inch red! I snapped (what I thought was) a picture and we released him. Turned out I took some awesome 5 second videos of my dad grinning with a fish. Luckily, I was able to convert it into a still picture.

With such quick success, I had relatively high hopes for the rest of the afternoon.

Foolish me...

I sat for 3 hours without the slightest nibble of a red before we headed home. Sometimes that's just how it goes.

A few days later I attempted to right the wrong that 'everyone I fish with has caught an over-slot red except for myself'. First Chelsea, now my dad. Now it was my turn. I took Chelsea back out to Ft. Pickens and set up in the same area. Once again, we hadn't been there 10 minutes before one of the rods went off. I grabbed it this time and began fighting the fish. I could tell by the way it thumped that it was a big fish. Unfortunately, it was only on for a few seconds before my line broke. I reeled in my line to see that it had broken at the knot I had tied on the pompano rig.

Looking back, I remember tying that particular rig and thinking that I had messed up during the tying process. However, it looked right in the end so I left it alone. Next time I'll just re-do the whole rig rather than lose another big red. Chelsea and I sat out there until dark with no more luck. I suppose things could have been worse. I was lucky enough to get to spend time with family and was blessed with some decent weather for my last fishing trip.

Thanksgiving Beach Fishing

The Monday before Thanksgiving I headed out to Pensacola Beach to do some surf fishing. I knew that the reds HAD been running, so I tried my luck. Upon arriving at the beach, I noticed that the water's edge was nearly straight. The only cut that I could see...of course...already had someone at it. I opted to walk 1/4 mile down the beach and set up on a spot that looked decent.

After 2 hours of catching nothing but one catfish, I packed up everything and headed back for the truck. I noticed that the guys fishing the cut were quite a ways down the beach and the cut actually started about 75 yards from them. Seeing this, I decided to set up one last time. I managed to pull one 25" red from the cut and watched the other guys as they reached their bag limit on reds.

Wednesday soon came around and Chelsea had off from work. She had never caught a legal redfish so we decided to give it a try back at the beach. We drove down to Ft. Pickens and set up on an incoming tide in the afternoon. We weren't having much luck aside from a few catfish and the sun was sinking quickly.

However, right before dark, one of the rods doubled over and started screaming out line. Chelsea grabbed it and the fight was on. After a few minutes, we had the fish to shore and I dragged it up to the cooler to measure it.

A 29" Redfish! Bigger than any I'd ever caught myself (have yet to break slot limit still). After a few quick pictures and an explanation as to why we couldn't keep him, I waded out to release the fish. It only took a few seconds to revive the fish and with jolt, it disappeared out into the darkening water.

Saturday we decided it was MY turn to try for an over-slot red. And no...I'm not bitter. Chelsea, my dad and I drove out to Ft. Pickens and fished around the pass. Luckily for us, the weather was a nipply -50 with a chance of a gale. We used cigar minnows and, thanks to the wind, made staggering 15 ft. casts. Absolutely nothing hit for hours.

Just after it got dark, the rod finally bowed over and started ripping drag. I grabbed it, knowing that a huge red had finally taken the bait. The fish ran, and ran....and ran. I cranked down the drag, worrying that I might not stop the fish. When if finally stopped, I had thrown out the idea that it was a redfish...I was thinking shark. But alas, I was fooled.

Who knew Cow-nose rays would hit a cigar minnow? I always thought they were filter feeders like a manta ray. Thanks to a circle hook, the ray was quickly released with some hook-outs.

With that, I finished my Thanksgiving trip and my quest to catch a huge redfish. Hopefully, there will still be some around come Christmas.