The week starting June 14th was supposed to be my vacation week. We usually spend the week down in Punta Gorda at a condo in Fisherman's Village. I don't know what possessed me to work on my vacation, but in a weak moment I booked four of the five days with Bob Dunnagan and his family, from Sandpoint, Idaho. He had other members of the family here from Oregon and other places in somewhat of a family reunion. Bob had booked Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. I figured I deserved one day off, and kept it free. Bob is an interesting fellow. He's flyfished for some 50 years, and said that his daddy wouldn't even let him fish with any other type of tackle. His son Tim Dunnagan, a college professor, is also a very skilled fly caster, and even teaches a flyfishing course at his university. Bob and Tim were only interested in flyfishing.
On Monday, Bob and Tim brought along Tyler, Tim's son, and their main interest was for me to put Tyler on some fish with live bait and spinning tackle. Mother nature certainly had other plans. First, we had terrible flat tides (no moving water) all week long. Tides like that are the kiss of death on inshore fishing. Mother Nature's dinner bell is moving water. When it ain't movin', you ain't catchin'. Second, bait was very tough, but we finally got enough. Lastly, we had a west wind at 15 knots, which makes fishing out where all the snook are this time of year, all but impossible for all but those with good sealegs and strong stomachs. We were forced to fish inside. Bob and Tim wanted to wade with their flyrods, so we hit Blind Pass first. The tide was so poor that there wasn't even any movement in the pass for most of the morning. Blind Pass is a narrow, shoaled up, almost impassable cut since our El Nino winter. The result has been a serious decline in the snook fishing which used to be so good there. Once we finally started to get a little current flow with the late incoming tide, we moved to the flats. Bob and Tim spent the rest of the trip wading mangrove shorelines and oyster bars, while I fished with Tyler. I did see quite a few fish for Bob and Tim to cast to, and Tim had a red follow him out of the mangroves, but he didn't eat. By the end of the trip Tyler had boated one redfish just under 26 inches, four snook, and a jack.
Tuesday morning I was up at 3:30 AM and at the dock at 6:00 AM. Bob's daughter Susan and her husband Jay Gibbs showed up a little late and told me that just about everyone had come down with some kind of 12 hour flu. Bob had been up most of the night hurling so much that all the vessels around his eyes were ruptured and he looked like hell. Tyler had gotten very ill on the way to the ramp, and was in the car sick. They canceled the day, and took Tyler home. I was very concerned that I might contract this nasty bug they had, because the last thing I'd done Monday afternoon was finish the last Pepsi we had in the boat after Bob had drank the first half. I figured I was a dead ringer to get the stuff. Thank God, I never did. I spent a wonderful day just lounging around with my wife.
Wednesday, Bob and Jay Gibbs showed up ready for action. Bob had survived his ordeal and was once again ready to do battle with the linesider on his long rod. Jay would fish live bait. But, bait was now almost impossible for reasons unbeknownst to me. We did get a pretty good load of threadfin herring, and I'm glad I elected to keep some of them. There wasn't much air moving. I knew we'd be able to get out and fish the sticks for snook, and that Bob would have a shot at catching one or more on fly, but I also knew it was going to be brutally hot. Bob went to work with his flyrod, changing flies regularly. His casting skills were putting the flies right up in the strike zone where they needed to be, but nothing seemed to be working. Meanwhile, the snook were quite willing to eat the threadfins we had, even though they were quite large. Jay caught some nice fish through the course of the morning, and Bob finally gave in and caught one on live bait. I'm glad he did. He was impressed with the fight, and it gave him an idea of what to expect when he tagged one on fly. It wasn't long after that first fish that Bob tied on an epoxy shrimp pattern that my good friend Capt. Mark Bess invented, and quickly hooked a seven and a half pound snook. Bob did a masterful job of clearing the line and keeping that fish out of the trees. Frankly, I don't know how he did it. The fish put up a great fight, trying her best to get back into the cover and cut Bob off, but she had met her match on this day, and Bob brought her alongside exhausted. We took pictures, nursed her back to health, and sent her back to fight another day. By around 11:30 the heat had gotten to all of us. We had about 10 good snook in the boat, Bob had his snook on fly, and decided it was time to take it home. We were back at the dock by noon. Thursday was my scheduled day off.
Friday, Sue, Tyler, Tim, and Bob showed up. During the loading process, Bob realized that he couldn't find his wading boots, and stayed behind. The requested target for the day would be redfish. I knew bait would probably be tough again, and I would need a lot of it to try to chum the redfish into a feeding mood. As we made our way to the bait grounds we spotted a major topwater feed happening. It appeared to be ladyfish and/or jacks. It was a big feed. Tim was quick to get his flyrod into action, and hooked a fish on practically every cast. I tied a spoon on a rig for Susan, and then Tyler, and they too, hooked up a fish on practically every cast. The trio had a blast with those fish, and it lasted for the better part of an hour I think. Bait turned out to be not only tough, but tiny. We chummed all over the place, and it was the same thing everywhere we went. Tiny little shiners, threadfins, sardines, etc. Millions of tiny baits. We were reduced to hand picking out the tiny shiners. We would have to use weighted popping corks in order to cast them. Once on the flats, Tim took off on foot with his flyrod. He was hell-bent on catching a red on fly. On one occasion he had a red that he had sight casted to eat his fly. Unfortunately, Tim reacted to what he saw, instead of what he felt, and in an adrenaline overloaded moment, took the fly right out of the red's mouth. He also cast to a tailing red with no result. Back in the boat, I was anchored up and trying to chum reds in with these tiny shiners. When I'd sling them with my bait-bat they'd hit the air and fall like snowflakes. They were just too small. I couldn't get them far away enough from the boat. Surprising, some reds did come close enough for us to catch, but Susan caught the only fish boated; a 26 inch red. We had five more hits, all of which were missed fish. Thank God for the early ladyfish and jack action. Bob and his family were super nice folks. I think Bob realized he'd drawn a tough week, especially for flyfishing. It's also tough to combine flyfishing and live baiting, although Bob was so versatile with his rod that it wasn't much of a factor. I hope the next time we meet we'll be blessed with better tides.
We'll have those better tides next week. Now all we have to do is
figure out where all the big shiners went!