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
