Sanibel Sampler

THE SPECTACULAR SNOOK OF SANIBEL ISLAND
By Jan Stephen Maizler

Early summer had begun to warm the waters of Sanibel and Captiva Islands off Fort Myers, Florida. It had only begun two weeks ago in early May. I d called snook expert Captain Mike Smith (239-573-FISH) of Sanibel to confirm my hunches. Mike was quick to affirm that the snook (or, alternatively, linesiders) indeed were on the feed in the area s waters from Punta Rassa up to Boca Grande. Mike encouraged me to get there A.S.A.P., but he qualified it by saying, be sure you make it here on a moon. When I inquired what that meant, he replied, A moon means a new or full moon, when the tidal heights and velocity are bigger and stronger.. That s when the snook are feeding more aggressively. We quickly chose the upcoming new May moon in a couple of weeks, and maximized our chances by choosing a weekday. Less boats, more fish , as Captain Mike put it. The time passed so quickly that it seemed like a few days as I met him at the Punta Rassa docks just after the Sanibel Causeway tollbooth. His Lake and Bay skiff was spotless and gleaming as it sat alongside the dock. As I climbed aboard, Mike opened one of the livewells to reveal a huge number of lively pilchards, and smiled. He said the snook were really on the feed and we d be bringing them the perfect groceries! The explorations of Mike s charters the last few days revealed that the snook were feeding most actively in The Ding Darling Wildlife Preserve on the bayside of Sanibel island. No one knows the Ding like Captain Mike: he has fished it ever since he was a young boy. He fired up his motor, and idled into open water one hundred yards away. Once his rig was in the clear, he pushed down the throttle to rocket speed, and it was only minutes until we were back at idle speed, easing through a small opening into the jungle-like Ding.


HOW WE DID

Captain Mike s method was fascinating. He would only use his bow-mounted electric motor to get to his honey holes hiding in the maze of creeks, bays, and islands. Once the boat was about forty feet from his favorite spot, he d let down the anchor to keep his skiff stationary. Then, he would net a few frisky pilchards from his livewell, and hand-toss them into the mangrove treetops. Moments later, pilchards from the sky would rain down on the snook hiding a few feet into the mangroves, and all hell would break loose! Mike smiled at all the pops, and said, I guess they re hungry. As a few pilchard survivors tore out of the mangroves and hid in the shadow of his skiff, Mike told me to pull one of the spinning outfits out of the rod holders. The rigs were well thought through: stiff long graphite rods with fast retrieve spinners. Each reel was filled to the brim with braided line to maximize two tackle qualities : sensitivity and low stretch, fish-pulling power. He baited me up on a 1/0 hook tied to a two-foot length of fluorocarbon leader. He told me to toss the bait into the shadowy mangrove pocket that had the most recent pop. I made a good cast, and the strike was instantaneous! The snook and I did a seesaw battle, but good technique and tackle had him to the boat side in about a minute. We admired the six-pound fish for a moment and then released it. Suffice it to say that every new stop we made, I hooked up with a nice snook, redfish, or jack crevalle. The technique was the same: a pinpoint cast into shadowy pockets and a keep-him-coming fighting technique. Mike s spots were as endless as his knowledge of the Ding , but by midday, I was exhausted. It was time for a break. As we idled back out of the Preserve, Captain Mike encouraged me to return very soon when the fishing was really good. I laughed, and responded that I was thinking just the same thing: you know, the full moon is only two weeks away

Jan Stephen Maizler is a veteran outdoor writer specializing in exciting shallow water destinations. He can be reached at www.flatsfishingonline.com/