|
Late breaking news, the Saturday after
Thanksgiving Johnny Kinyo and I went fishing in the canals for flounder in the
midst of a gray Midwestern like drizzle, 55 degrees; you get the
picture.
no luck but by noon, the sun began to pop
out." Wadda ya think, John, wadda ya wanna do?", I
teased. "ooooh, let's go launch your Pathfinder and give the
flats a try", he said. So off we went, and ever so gradually
the sun started to peak through the murk, then got brighter and
brighter.....until...out popped a blue bird day. The temperature hit 65,
then 70, then 75. The 5 mph breeze went to zero. All the while, I
poled John across our favorite flats, protected by a semi-circular barrier
island, shielding the 1 - 3 foot water from the deeper bay. The water
was still too cold, but Johnny as usual caught redfish.
He can just smell 'em. Sniffs 'em out, I
think. Within 60 minutes, he had three keepers in the box
22-25". I could have sworn they were bigger. Fat and healthy as
could be at the end of a long summer of plentiful shrimp and baitfish in their
regular haunts. Johnny knew just how to catch those lethargic cold water
fish. He'd throw that Kokaho plastic bait into every pothole, dance it
into the middle, stop the bait, let it drop, and whammmoo! Fish
On! I just kept poling along.
He offered to let me land one, but come
on!!! "Neh, just havin' fun watchin you", i replied with a
certain (questionable) degree of honesty. The afternoon was speeding by
into a Texas Gulf Coast sunset that dreams are made of. I swear it felt
like 80 degrees and the water just went to glass.
Funny, I started to see some movement in
the water, some ever so slight wakes.
"Hmmmm, Johnny, hand up that 5 wt.
rod to me on the tower? I'm startin' to see some movement in the
water."
"Why don't you stay up on the tower, and
I'll pole from the front for a while", he added.
"Cooool!"
We nudged between two oyster outcroppings into
the last bay, now holding only twelve inches of water capped in mirror
glass. There it was!! A tail! and the last day of
November. go figure. With no wind, the 5 wt. easily laid
that shrimp pattern right in front of that tail which immediately snapped
to attention, quivered, then came hard on the fly. Whamooo. Fish
on!
What a fight, the biggest sheephead, i've ever
seen. It must have gone 4 to 5# by Johnny's estimate. It was fhuge!
Raked me through two oyster reefs, but
nevertheless a fine battle, and a catch and release. Quickly
running my fingers down my tippet, noting no damage, but uh-oh the
second segment of 16# flouro was shredded. Got to change that, I
thought, just as I turned to see a broom sized tail dead ahead, not 60'
away. No time for knot tying, this fish was on the feed.
First cast three feet to the right landing just as it turned the opposite
direction. Quick roll cast right back to where I'd last seen the
fish.......nothin'. I turned to look back at Johnny and didn't even have
time to get the "damn" out of my mouth when the line went
tight. "You gonna fight it, or just stare at it? You got
a whale on" Johnny deadpanned.
First run, right across two oyster reefs, with
an already thread bare leader. Somehow, I turned him. I
looked around and realized the bay was boiling with fish wakes and
tails. There were fish everywhere! Another oversized
red following mine. Side by side. Second run, half way into
my backing. That fish was now two hundred feet from the boat with oyster
graveyards everywhere.
It really didn't matter, on a 5 wt. you're not
going to pressure a fish anyway. Rod tip up as high as it will go, and
ever so gently, with God's help, that red missed evey razor-sharp oyster
shell, and came right to the boat. 30 minutes of fight had tuckered him
out. With one last lunge he headed for the safety of the last available
structure.... the underside of the boat, wrapping that shredded
leader neatly around my trim tab. With no hesitation, into the knee deep
water I plunged. Again, luck on my side. The fish was
motionless, spent. 22, no maybe 24" i thought to
myself, and quickly slipped a single hand under its belly, bringing it to the
surface, hoping to lift it up for a better look. "Whoah, I can't
get it out of the water, John. Grab my rod!!" Now with
two hands, still not encircling that glistening football of a fish, I was
able to hoist it into the boat. The measurin' stick said 27
3/4". "Gotta, be close to 10#", Johnny chuckled.
"Ok, ole fellow, back into the water." I really wanted to
spend some time reviving this one due to the long battle, but thirty seconds
later, he'd seen enough of us, with a flick of his tail, he was gone.
"Whadda ya think John,
we had enough?" as the sun slid toward its final destination.
"Sure, everyone's waitin' dinner on us."
All I could think was "wow". My
biggest red on my smallest flyrod....... on the last day of November.
Yessireee, it's gonna be a great winter!
and the next warm day we have, hmmmmm, let's seeeee.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays
Kiss the wife and kids for me. Or the Girl
Friend for those with no wives
Aaron Combs
|
