South Florida Freshwater Fishing Report and More!
Thank you for reading this south Florida freshwater fishing report. This reporter spent three days fishing this week, two of them in the I-75 canals. The third day found us paddling the Econ, which was probably a bigger adventure.
Walt Jennings asked me to join him and the Mangrove Coast Fly Fishers on their annual Everglades panfish outing. So Monday I drove to Walt’s house, and spent the night. The next morning we got up at a ridiculous 0250. Walt’s friend Mike showed up a few minutes later and we hopped in Walt’s vehicle and drove until first light. We launched the boat then, and ran as far as we could down this canal.
Mike got an oscar on his second cast. I’d like to say, “Then it got better,” but that might be stretching it. What is true is that we caught fish after fish until lunchtime, when it was hot and we were tired and hungry. Then we stopped fishing.
What kind of fish, you ask? Panfish! Stumpknockers, oscars, Mayan cichlids, largemouth bass, bluegills, and warmouth. We were using three-weight rods, and an assortment of flies. Mike mostly used a popper-dropper rig. I used a foam spider until the bite slowed (about mid-morning), then switched to a small Clouser Minnow.
The scene repeated itself the following morning, although I got off the spider pretty quick, substituting a soft-hackle fly in bold gold and chartreuse. It worked very well. And then…
There was a place we fished where a mass of branches overhung the water. Hanging from those branches were a few leafless, scraggly, grape vines. If you made the cast side-arm, you could get the fly up under there. Every time I did, I got an oscar. I pulled at least two dozen fish out from under those branches. And those branches gave us the biggest entertainment opportunity we would get.
I made another cast under there. My leader wrapped around one of the vines, but the fly fell into the water. A fish nailed it immediately. I set the hook, but could not pull the fish in- the leader was firmly wrapped around the vine.
Up until this point, the alligators (did I mention the alligators? There were lots of them!) had really not paid us or all of our splashing fish any attention. This was a different situation though- the fish was tethered-in-place. A four-foot or so alligator came out from under some bushes and lunged at my poor oscar. I pulled on the line, the vine moved towards me, and pulled the fish out of the water. The gator missed!
The fish fell back in the water. The gator tried again. I pulled again. The fish flew again. The gator missed again.
Holy cow, a game of keep-away with an alligator!
This savage amusement went on for several minutes. Walt got his phone out and started filming. I felt sorry for the poor fish, but didn’t know what to do- I certainly wasn’t going into that mess with a riled-up lizard in there, to try to untangle the line or unhook the fish.
Things got even more interesting when a much larger gator came over, pushing the runt out of the way. Except for the size of the predator, nothing had changed, though. I could pull the fish away from the gator, but could not get free of the vine. Two worked-up gators now wanted the fish. I asked my friends, “How am I going to get the fish off of there?”
Walt said, “You have to let the gator get the fish. Then just break him off.” So after playing several more rounds of keep-away, I let the victim dangle, and the now-frustrated gator just crushed him. My eight-pound tippet was no match for the hundred-plus pound gator, and I tied on a new fly as the happy gator snapped, crackled, and popped his snack. Again, poor fish. He thought he was getting a meal, and instead he became one.
We didn’t fish much longer after that. How many fish do you need? In addition to the cichlids, oscars, and stumpknockers, Mike had gotten two warmouth and a bass, and I got a fat bluegill. Some passing fishermen told us the 71-degree water was too cold for peacock bass, and we certainly (and sadly) did not see any.
The boat ramp giving access to this magic spot lies on I-75 at mile marker 35 in Broward County. There is a rest area there, in addition to three boat ramps and plentiful parking. Good luck!
Friday Susan gave me a ride to the SR419 canoe launch on the Econlockhatchee. I hit the water about 0845. The water is running low and clear, and looked great. In spite of seeing quite a few fish in the water, I did not hook a fish until noon, trying both my favorite bass fly, the mouse gurgler, and plastic worms on the spin pole. The first fish to take the fly was downright rude.
I made a cast and saw a large fish move toward the fly. There must have been two of them, though, because the one that took the fly was not the fish I saw. The damn thing was a monster- I could see her as she sucked the fly in. She immediately headed for several fallen trees about 50 feet downstream, jumping once just to increase the shock and awe. It was by far the largest bass I’d ever hooked on the fly.
Usually bass make a short run, maybe jump, and then come right in. The best part of the whole encounter is the strike. This fish did not know that.
I hate this sentence- “There was nothing I could do!” Usually there is, but the person making the statement didn’t know what it was. I was certainly unprepared for what happened next.
The water was fairly deep. I tried to slow the fish down, but since I’m in a small, light vessel, she just towed me down to those trees with her. I hardly had time to react. Once there I didn’t know (at first) what happened to the fish, but could see my fly line down near the bottom, under three of those trees and then wrapped around a fourth one. It didn’t take long to realize that getting the fish was no longer the problem. Getting the fly line back was the problem.
I threw a bunch of slack into the fly line, then used the spin rod to lift a section of the line I could see between two tree trunks. When I pulled on the line, it pulled back. The bass was still on, and I could see her, at the far end of the fourth tree! She then popped the leader and swam off.
I could not see the line between what I had and where the fish had been. Hoping for the best, I just pulled on it. I felt something break, figured it was the fly line. It was my leader butt- broke just below the end of the fly line. I got the entire fly line back, and after building a new leader (laughing at the just-concluded episode the whole time) was able to get back to business.
I only got a few fish. They were all nice ones. The alligators were out in force. At least two were easily the length of my boat. I did find that by the time I reached Snow Hill Road I was way past ready to quit. That trip got five miles longer since last time I took it! I really don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again- age and illness has taken a toll on my stamina.
That’s the south Florida freshwater fishing report. Thanks for reading!
Every day is a blessing. Don’t waste it- Go fishing! Go paddling! Go walking! Stay active! And don’t get sick!
John Kumiski – https://spottedtail.com
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