By mid-April, the fishing scene began to change. There were far less cold water-concentrated gamefish- so simply, fishing spots that were hot when it was cold became cold since the weather was growing hot.
I starting prowling and scouting the areas that 30 years of angling records revealed matched not just the time of year, but the changed conditions as well.
Things started slow: some barracuda, and the modest pleasures of big numbers of grey snapper, both of which are ho-hum for me at this juncture. I switched tactics and prowled seawalls with sardine baits on 12-pound spin gear for big jacks or snook. On a windy morning, I spotted a huge snook and cast the bait 5 feet in front of the linesider. It sped up and woofed the bait down with a huge flair of its gills that accompanied its' impressive suction strike. Despite my using maximum pressure, the fish made the most of the high tide as it won the see-saw battle with me by surging into the maze of a pine tree that was grown over into the water. My line popped with that sickeningly familiar cracking sound.
The gloominess of that event hung over me like a bad spirit and I hoped my next outing would be better. In a few days, I found a few tarpon rolling in the lee of an island in North Bay. My feelings started rising as I hooked a medium-sized fish, but on its' second jump, it landed in my skiff. While it certainly became a caught and released fish, the event still left me with feelings that were no longer gloomy, but rather, well, "purgatorial". Since the tarpon action was brief, I headed for more half-hearted consolations with snappers and sea trout.
Then came this current weekend which featured a new moon in May with water temperatures over 76 degrees- times and conditions that were decidedly snookish to me. I ran my skiff deep into the South Bay and headed southwest until I found the mainland mangrove shorelines that begin south of Miami. My choice turned out to be a good one, but the snook were so big that 12-pound spinning and 40-pound fluorocarbon leaders resulted in 3 cutoffs. Fortunately, the last fish yielded to a shockingly "deep" tightened-down drag and I released a fine 15-pound
specimen. The rediscovery of an area that might produce for the next month or so gave me that "silver lining" feeling not just of re-inspired hope, but also adventurous anticipations.
Jan
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