Tarpon Fishing Report
Monday morning my alarm clock went off at 4 AM. I turned it off, thought about going back to sleep. I had a sore throat, never a harbinger of a bright, rosy day. But I told Ricky I’d be there so I got up, did what I had to do, and hit the road.
Thoughts of Kim swirled in my head as I drove. She’d looked so good last time I saw her. Now she’s fighting for her life? It wasn’t right. Didn’t make sense. Along with the sore throat it colored my mood a somber shade.
I pulled into Ricky’s driveway at nine o’clock. We had to go to the vet before we could fish. Danae’s cat is diabetic and they needed syringes for the insulin injections. When we got back to Rick’s he hooked up the boat and we were finally off.
The first spot we checked was a laid-up tarpon spot. There were a few fish there and I had a couple shots, crossing a streamer in front of their scaly faces. No eaters, though.
Clouds showed up, always a great help when tarpon fishing. Being facetious there, folks. We made a run to another spot, anchored the boat.
Fish started showing up immediately. Sometimes we could see them well, sometimes not very well at all, depending on how the clouds were configured at that moment, depending on where they were in the water column. None of them made any attempt to eat my fly.
Rick had a brand new rod. He asked me if I minded if he tried it. Heck, no, I didn’t mind. I’m out in his boat, using his expertise. Fish away, bud!
He rigged it up, got on the bow of the boat. A single fish came along. He throws to it. It eats. WTF? I can’t get a sniff and he hooks up on the first cast? I must be way more rusty than I thought.
But that’s how the day ended, one bite for Ricky, none for Johnny. Try again tomorrow.
Tuesday we again went to the laid-up tarpon spot. Again I had a few shots and again no one was interested in my streamer. Yes, my throat was still sore. Definitely not at 100 percent.
We again made the run to the other spot, anchored the boat.
The fish did not show up immediately. We didn’t see any for three hours. I put a different streamer on. Ricky said what Ricky says. “They’re not gonna eat that.” Like the fish can tell his flies from mine…
A pair of fish come. I throw my fly out there. One of the fish gets behind it, follows it ten feet or so. The bite comes. I set up. The line goes slack. The Hufnagle has come apart, something that had never happened before. Ricky rags on my knots, my leaders. New stuff has come along while I wasn’t paying attention. OK, I’ll learn the Slim Beauty. Just not at this moment.
I tie on a Cousin Itt. It feels like I’m trying to cast a raccoon. It doesn’t sink very well. But here comes some fish. I’m throwing it out there.
A tarpon comes up for the fly in an explosive surface strike. I react with a trout fisherman’s rod pull, popping the fly right out of the mouth of the fish. The strike was amazing, my response considerable less so.
Some fish come around the back of the boat. Rick gets a bite, can’t come tight. The fish shakes off.
Rick gets another shot a few minutes later, sticks the fish well. The fish takes off, the line goes slack. The fly line has broken.
The sun gets low. The fish stop coming, or maybe we just can’t see them any more. At any rate I am completely drained. We call it. Try again tomorrow.
The next morning a storm system moves in. We call it before the boat leaves the yard. The ride home is in the rain the whole way. It rains for the next three days.
I visit the doctor. I have a fever and a respiratory infection. No, I wasn’t at 100 percent. But I’m going back to try those fish again.
And that is this week’s exciting version of the Tarpon Fishing Report.
Life is great and I love my work!
Life is short. Go Fishing!
John Kumiski
All content in this blog, including writing and photos, copyright John Kumiski 2013. All rights are reserved.
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