[September] October 2000 [November]

The next two days were not as easy, as we had to drive two vehicles the remaining 850 miles. We made it to Vero Beach on Saturday afternoon, almost 1900 miles and 4 solid days of driving since we’d left New Hampshire. We got the camper situated at a nearby campground and went to see Dan’s mom. The reason we’re here this week is to help her move from her house into a condo. We visited with her for a while at the house, then went over to see the condo. There were all kinds of people, carpenters, electricians, painters, wallpaper hangers, all working frantically to finish things up. It’s not going to be done before we have to start moving. It’s going to be interesting.

I set my boat down in the middle of hundreds of acres of hydrilla, and began pitching a Gambler Paddle Tail worm. In the first 50 yards I caught a four pounder, and then a three about 50 yards beyond that. I drifted on a bit without catching any more, so I circled back and drifted over the same area again. This time I caught another four pounder, and missed an even bigger fish. I circled around and drifted through yet again, and this is when the big bite came. It didn’t feel any different from the thousands of bites I have had in the past. Just a subtle acknowledgment that the bait is no longer swinging free, and a split-second later when I know it’s not hung on a piece of grass, and I jerk. I was rewarded with that incredible experience that comes with jerking the rod upwards with all your might, only to have it arch over forward to it’s maximum bend, the taut line singing in the wind, and the rod tip pointing down towards a monstrous fish who’s just been jerked into your moment.

The fight itself was not much to write about. There was no open water for the fish to dash off into, and true monsters like this are just plain too big to put on any arial exhibitions. This fish just came up out of her hole once, perhaps hoping I’d have a heart-attack when I saw her size, then went back down again. I’ve caught enough fish in the hydrilla to know that my only chance was to get her back on top, so I did what I had to do, straining my equipment and muscling her back to the surface. As she came up and began sloshing near the boat, I realized that I had never, ever, seen a fish this size. I actually had a vision, for a moment, of a world-record fish. By the time I was reaching down to lift her into the boat, I was thinking 18, maybe 19 pounds. Maybe a Florida state record. There was simply no way to estimate her size, for I had absolutely nothing to compare it with. I can tell a 2 from a 3 from a 4 pound fish in an instant, but this was like estimating the weight of an automobile.

The next few minutes were a blur. I know I fumbled around, in vain, looking for my digital scale. I know I put the fish in the livewell, and it was so big it bent over in a "C". I removed the divider in the livewell, giving the fish both sides at once. I remember thinking that up until now, I considered a big fish one with a mouth into which I could insert my entire fist. Into this mouth I could have inserted my head. It must have been ten inches across. I remember looking around desperately for another boat. I just had to show this fish to someone else, and get it weighed. Both of the guide boats I had been with earlier had moved on, but I thought maybe they were back at the ramp, so I headed back in with my fish. They weren’t there, nor was anyone else who might have a scale, but I was able to find my own scale back in the truck. In the parking lot a fellow approached and asked how I did today. Here was the witness that I was looking for. I told him, and I showed him, and he was awestruck. He went back to his truck for his camera, and then took some photos of me weighing the fish. It was 13 pounds, 5 ounces. By far the biggest fish I have ever caught. Not a world record, not 18 or 19 pounds, but I guarantee it is a memory I will keep for a lifetime.

After photographing and weighing the fish, I carried her down to the shore where a little boy and his mom were fishing. I let him admire and touch the fish, and together the two of us released her alive and unharmed into the water. She’s swimming free again, in Stick Marsh, and perhaps someday she or one of her descendants will provide this same boy the experience of a lifetime, like she did for me today.

To answer a few of the questions I’ve already had about this story, I’ll add the following. First, this fish was caught using 30 pound-test Spiderline braid, and was fooled by a Gambler 5" Paddle Tail worm (junebug) sprayed with BANG fish attractant. Second, the fish was not full and fat from eggs, and showed no signs of being ready to spawn. Had it been full of eggs, there’s no telling how big it might have been!

One final note: To anyone who may have seen a guy with a great big smile in the local grocery store later that day, weighing frozen turkeys with his digital fish scale, that was me, verifying the accuracy of my device. It’s pretty close.

Conditions the second day were much the same, but one time I did get lucky enough to keep my shrimp from flying off the hook while landing a cast right in front of an unsuspecting bonefish. He couldn’t resist. He grabbed it and ran. Now my brother Ted had been describing this moment to Kevin and I, non-stop it seems for the last 48 hours, citing statistics which included the "break speed" of various fishes. This he explained is the speed at which a fish takes off away from the boat once he realizes he’s been hooked. The break speed for trout, for which Teddy fishes mainly, is in the area of four miles-per-hour; for an Atlantic Salmon around eleven mph; and he’s been needling me about the break speed of a bass, which he alleges is perhaps only two or three mph. He’s been telling us these numbers, drilling them into us, and making sure we realize that the break speed of a bonefish is in the neighborhood of 22 mph. If we’re not prepared for that break when it happens, he warns, then it’ll be all over before we know what hit us. Well, I’m here to tell you that the experience is everything Teddy said it would be. The bonefish I caught was only two or three pounds, but still it was quite a thrill to be fighting a fish that swims so fast, and that strips 100 feet of line out of your reel in the blink of an eye.

We spent the next 6 hours searching for, but not finding, any more of the elusive bonefish. The small (three foot long) sharks on the other hand, were abundant and provided both Kevin and I action throughout the day. Finally at about four o’clock we stopped and anchored at our final spot, and threw out a bit of chum. It wasn’t long before a few smaller fish, mutton snapper I think they were, began to appear, and behind them came one large ray. Captain Joe, our guide, quickly said "Throw at the ray! Sometimes a good fish will follow along right behind a ray." I was ready, and fired off a cast that landed right in front of the ray, and sure enough out from behind the ray darted a big, aggressive fish. I was jigging the shrimp right up near the surface, making sure the fish could see it, when all of a sudden it charged forward and practically leapt right out of the water to attack the shrimp! Cap’n Joe was even more excited than I as he exclaimed "Ohhh! A big permit, you lucky dog, you!" Well if I thought that bonefish was exciting earlier, this was something else entirely. Where that bonefish was fast, this fish was both fast and strong, and utterly tireless!

I’d been very open-minded over the past two days, insisting to these guides that while I was a professional fisherman myself, I knew nothing about flats fishing and I would do everything they say, just the way they say it, instead of pretending I knew already what I was doing. The only exception was my insistence upon using my own equipment. I was using out here a 7 foot medium action graphite rod, a Shimano Chronarch baitcasting reel, and 30 pound test Spiderwire braided line. Normally my reels are filled with backing line three-quarters of the way, with only 30 or 40 yards of "fresh" line on top of that. This 30 or 40 yards has been more than adequate for every bass I have ever caught. At Teddy’s suggestion the other night though, I had filled this entire spool with fresh line, perhaps 200 yards of it, and I’m sure glad I did.

The permit I was now fighting decided to really put my equipment to the test. Twice during the 20 minute fight I had to tell Cap’n Joe that I was in fear of running out of line on my reel, so he’d better go after this fish with the boat. At the same time, the action in the boat was made even more exciting by the fact that periodically during the fight a group of three or four other permit would dart into the action to find out what was going on. My brother Kevin, though he didn’t catch one, at least got to throw a few times at some aggressive permit right up close to the boat. When finally I got my fish subdued and hoisted into the boat, it weighed right around 13 pounds. I’ll tell you though, it fought like it was a hundred! What a thrill, and now I’ve got another memory I can keep for a long time.

There’s one more piece to this story. Halfway through my fight with the permit I joked to Cap’n Joe that, having already caught a bonefish, as soon as I finished with this permit we were going to go catch a tarpon, and thus complete what is known here as a "grand slam." Well, after boating, weighing and releasing the permit, we circled back to our chum area to see if there was anything else around, and sure enough there they were - two or three "baby" tarpon, about 25 pounds apiece. They were elusive, disappearing and reappearing perhaps 3 times before it was time for us to quit. While we didn’t catch any, they were close enough to throw at a few times, and that in itself was a pretty exciting feeling. By the time we returned to the dock around 5:30 we were both salt-sprayed and sunburned, but we had plenty to talk about during our long ride home.

Anyone looking for a good flats guide when they want to go fishing in the Florida Keys would do well to contact Captain Joe Saladino at (305) 743-5268, or email him at Okajo@Marathonkey.com.

Annie writes:
My week was not half as exciting as the fishing, but just as rewarding, as I got to spend some quality time with Dan’s mom. It was kind-of strange though, as Dan and I split up for a few days, something we rarely do. While Dan and his brothers were off fishing, I stayed in Vero helping to finish setting up the new condo. Later in the week, when the boys had returned, we all played some golf, went to church, had a nice dinner, and remembered Dad on Saturday, the first anniversary of his passing. On Sunday, Kevin and Ted flew home to New England, and Dan and I said good-bye to his mom, as it was time for us to get moving as well.

We drove out to Okeechobee first. We’ve been hearing rumors that the lake level is way down this year, and most of the places people have become accustomed to fishing in the last few years are now inaccessible. Dan fished one day, caught a few fish, but agrees that it is going to be totally different this winter when we return than we have ever seen it before.