Fishing Report for Pine Island Sound to Sarasota Bay, Florida

Capt. Butch Rickey
April 29, 2006
Pine Island Sound - Saltwater Fishing Report

RERORT FOR THE WEEK ENDING 4/29/06 by Capt. Butch Rickey

The week was filled with old friends and customers, save for one. Although the tides were great, the fishing was for the most part very tough. Of course, another late season front was involved.

After the horrible tides of the week before, I know all us guides hit the water Monday morning expecting to spank the fish. After all! We had a good looking tide on the approaching new moon. I felt confident that my friend John Wodjak and his wife Vicki would be treated to some spectacular fishing on Monday morning.

I fished with John and some of his buddies a couple of years ago, and we had a blast. I hadn’t met Vicki before, but I talked to her Sunday night, and could tell she was a real trooper. I also knew John and the boys had been working on her, as the guys always do, and had her convinced I was going to bite her head off if she did something wrong. I assured her the guys were messing with her, and that she would have a blast..

John and Vicki met me at 6 AM Monday morning, so they could join me for the catching of bait. That’s a bit later by an hour, actually, than I’m usually out there throwing the net trying to get a days worth of shiners before the threadfins move in. Vicki was just cuter than hell and wearing a big smile, and I knew instinctively we’d have a good time.

We had a great tide; at least as good as it gets this time of year, and I was all set and ready for not only a great day of fishing, but a great day of catching. But, boy was bait tough! Threadfins were thick everywhere, with mackeral thrashing through them almost everywhere you looked once it began to get light. I threw the net until I was blue in the face and about to drop, and nearly every time it came back to the boat plugged with hundreds of threadfins gilled in the net.

It was six o’clock when we began, and nearly eight o’clock when we were done. And, we had no idea how many shiners we had in the well, mixed with all the threadfins. I was about to drop! It was time to go fish!

We headed into the Sound, and as we rode I decided to stop in Ding Darling. With a good running tide, I couldn’t imagine the snook wouldn’t be eating. Once in the sanctuary I began chumming with our rapidly dying threadfins, and we had lots of hits on the chum. Vicki also had quite a few hits. She struck first blood and got a jack crevalle, and then a nice trout. But, she was a bit quick on the trigger, and missed some big hits. While we were there I also gave Vicki a condensed version of my casting clinic. After catching a fish or three and missing some great hits, things settled down and the fish quite biting. So, we moved on.

I expected big things at our next stop, as I’d been catching some great fish even on the very tough tides of weeks past. I knew the fish were there, and I knew there were a lot of big snook, too. But, much to my bewilderment, we couldn’t get the fish to eat. We chummed, fished, moved; chummed, fished, moved, and just couldn’t get the fish to eat. Oh, we did get some blows on our chum, but not many. Just enough for the snook to tell us they were there, but not buying!

But, regardless of the poor bite, Vicki seemed to be really enjoying learning, and was enjoying all that was going on around us. There were mullet flipping everywhere, stingrays cruising, bird stalking minnows, and porpoise cruising the shallows in search of breakfast. Finally, John was fish on! A short time later he landed a redfish perfect for dinner.

But, getting another fish to eat seemed to be an insurmountable chore, and we finally moved on. By now, the tide was getting up, and I was looking for things to finally turn on. But, we were never able to flip the switch to turn things on. Don’t misunderstand! We had some great hits and some good fish on, but lady luck was just not with us, and most of what was hooked, soon escaped to freedom.

I possibly lost what was surely the fish of the day. I had a shiner out on a popping cork, and it hadn’t been in the water but a few seconds. I had a violent hit! The drag screamed for a second, the rod heaved under the pressure of a big fish, and then came the sound normally associated with the firing of a 38! Ker-pow! It all happened so fast and with so much power that for an instant I thought the big snook had blown up my rod. But, once I got my composure I realized that somehow the Power Pro had managed to get wedged in behind the decorative part of the drag knob on the Stella 2500FB, and of course once that happened the line was cut.

But, the fun with that big snook was not over! After a while, the popping cork appeared, bobbing up and down in and out of sight. We knew that big snook was not far away. We kept on fishing, but the lure of that snook on that broken line kept calling and enticing us. Finally, we all agreed we’d go see if we could run it down, and get a look at the snook. With luck, we might even get a picture of her. But, it seemed the more we chased, the more she eluded. She wouldn’t let us get close enough for a look

There were some other very nice hits missed there, but basically I found myself befuddled and wondering what was up with the fish. They just didn’t want to eat. The troubling part was that I had not a clue why.

We moved on, and crossed the Sound hoping to find things different there. You know! The “Grass is Greener” syndrome. Well, I can tell ya they weren’t any different. We kept at it, and only managed one more big trout before our day was done.

When we got back to the ramp there wasn’t anyone around that I could compare notes with. But, the next morning when I launched to go meet my old friends Rod and Judy Heflin at their place in St. James City, I was able to talk to a few of my friends. They had all been blind-sided, as well, and reported the same kind of day where catching anything at all was a challenge. The worst part for us guides is not knowing why.

I got a really early start Tuesday morning, and didn’t realize until I was on the way to the Heflins that most of my bait was deadfins! I had to stop no less than four times to clear out the drain side of the baitwell. What a mess. The threads were dying by the hundreds! By the time I got there, I was close to having a handle on it. Judy refilled my Bubba Mug with coffee, and we were off.

I’d told Rod and Judy of the struggle on Monday, and they were still willing to give Tuesday a shot. I was anxious to spend some time with them, and we had already had to cancel this trip several times because of weather. We lost a bit of time to the slow zones picking them up at their home on Airport Canal, and were quickly headed back out to get to fishing.

The water was low enough to have the fish ganged up in one of my favorite snook holes. But, the water was also very clear. That’s got to be a big part of what’s wrong with the fishing. Even the numerous fronts that have come through have not managed to bring us any rain. We have had such a long dry spell that the area is like a dust bowl. With no rain the waters become extremely clear, and while that makes for beautiful waters, it makes for tough fishing. We could see hundreds, if not thousands of snook milling around in our hole. And, Rod and Judy even got to see several of the tarpon sized fish I had told them about. But, we only managed to get two snook into the boat.

We decided we’d go trout fishing just to get some action going, and I knew just where they were. I chummed the hole first, and we got some blows on the chum, but only got one trout to eat. Amazing. We moved on in frustration.

Our next stop was a small mangrove island that I like to fish. With chumming we did manage to get some snook action going, and managed to catch several before the quit biting. It seemed impossible to get a sustained bite going.

WE moved on, deciding to turn our attention to redfish with a snook kicker. It would be our last stop of the day. Upon first arriving we did manage to catch a few more snook, but no keepers. And, Rod lost a BIG snook. As the tide continued to rise we turned to redfish, and to our relief got a bite going. Although we had caught one redfish early on a shiner under a popping cork, they weren’t buying that, now. I had two small ladyfish in the well that I’d caught in the castnet that morning. I steaked them up, and we put three lines out just as far as we could throw them. I’m talking probably 150 to 170 feet from the boat. And, in the gin clear water, that seemed to do the trick, and we caught nearly a dozen redfish to cap off our day.

It had been great to share a boat with Rod and Judy after quite some time, and although it hadn’t been a stellar day by our standards, it had certainly been much more productive than Monday with John and Vicki. Next time we fish together, we’re going to fish in Rod’s new boat.

Wednesday morning I met my new customer Al Ellis, of West Palm Beach, at 6 AM. He wanted to join me for the bait routine. Al has been a reader of my fishing reports sine December of 1998, and is a native of Fort Myers, and a graduate of Ft. Myers Senior High School in 1959, four years ahead of me. Needless to say, I was looking forward to finally meeting and fishing with Al.

But, Al ran into traffic snags, and then missed the turn into the ramp, and was a good 20 minutes late. That would have been OK, but I had already moved my start time up so as not to make him get up with the chickens just so he could join me for bait catching. By the time we got out to the bait, the sun was rising, and the shiners all but disappeared. I caught net after net full of threadfins, and was exhausted, and still didn’t have bait to fish with. Oh, we had enough to fish with, but not to chum with, but didn’t even know that, yet, because there were so few shiners in the well. After fishing both A and B spans with no luck, I decided to go chumming on the flats. That wasn’t any better. I chummed several places including the Chino flats and Kiesel’s flats without so much as a shiner. There were very few pinfish. Time and tide were wasting, and we decided to take what we had and go fishing.

Our first stop was full of snook, but we only managed to catch a few. The clear water was again and still a factor. Plus, I didn’t have the luxury of chumming the fish with live bait. We hit another spot without getting a bite. My friend Capt. Rey Rodriguez called and said he was quiting early. I told him we had gotten a late start and had very little bait, and he offered us what he had left. We agreed to meet a little later when he was ready to go.

Al and I went to a flat near the powerlines that is usually full of ladyfish, hoping to put a couple in the well. I figured it would be a sure ticket to some more redfish, as it had been the day before. But, there were no ladyfish present. We headed north to meet Rey, and were happy to receive his remaining bait. While we were transferring bait, Rey noticed a ladyfish feed going on about a quarter mile away. By the time we got there it was about over, but Al managed a jack crevalle, and Rey gave us the one ladyfish they had caught.

Al and I took our new supply of shiners and one ladyfish to see what we could get going with them. At the first couple of spots we managed several snook, and Al broke off two big snook. We didn’t get to see the first one, which we left swimming around under a popping cork, but the second one was hooked on a free-lined shiner and ran behind an oyster bar. I told Al to get his rod as high as possible, but he didn’t get it high enough, soon enough. The fish was stuck, and I could feel it pulling back and forth across the oysters. I knew we still had a chance to land the fish if we went in after it. But, it would ruin the area we were fishing, and the snook were blowing up our baits all over the place. We decided to go for it, and as we got right up on the fish, she spooked and took off. Problem was, she took off in the wrong direction, and pulled the line around and across the oyster she was hung on. If she had run the other direction, she probably would have freed the line from the oysters, and we might have landed it. But, she didn’t and the line parted instantly. We watched as a very nice snook swam away within mere feet from the Talon.

It was time to catch some redfish. The water was right, and we had one large ladyfish to steak and shake. I was sure we could catch one redfish for each steak I could cut from the ladyfish. But, to our chagrin, the first and only redfish came on a shiner under a popping cork. We couldn’t get a redfish to eat anything after that, including a shiner. Geez! We finished the day with about a dozen snook and a redfish and jack.

It had been a good time for me, and I think for Al. It was fun talking to him about the old days when Ft. Myers was a very small town, and when Sanibel/Captiva Islands had slightly more than 200 permanent residents. Many years have gone by since Al and I were kids growing up here, and this is hardly recognizable as the same town.

It blew pretty good Wednesday for Al and me, as yet another late season cold front approached. By Wednesday night, it was obvious that it might be a factor for Thursday’s trip. My customer, who has asked not to be identified, shall be known as Rob. I talked to Rob Wednesday night and laid Thursday out as best I could see it. I figured that if the weather folks were right on their timing, we could get in a morning of fishin on a good tide, and catch some nice fish. Rob decided we should go ahead with our plans, which had been laid long ago after we fished last year.

I met Rob Thursday morning at 5:30 AM. We went straight to the A span for bait, and caught plenty. We were treated to several flashes of lightning and a occasional drop of moisture from the north as I labored. I thought we had plenty of shiners, but as we got into the morning, that proved not to be the case. Much of what was hiding in the big well turned out to be threadfins, and had died.

Since the tide was still outgoing, I decided to stop in Ding Darling to see if we could pop a snook or two on the last of that tide. Although my chum drew some strikes, the biggest bite came from a massive invasion of noseeums. My God! They were awful, and nearly carried me off. They didn’t seem to be bothering Rob as badly, but he said he could feel them. I sprayed us both with Off, but it seemed to be nothing more than a garnish to the noseeums. They seemed to be enjoying it, and us. Within twenty minutes I burned all over, and threw in the towel. We were out of there!

The wind was still howling out of the west as we headed to our next stop. I knew that as long as the wind would stay west we had a shot at catching some snook. But, it wasn’t long after we arrived that the wind bounced to the northwest, signaling the passing of the front. I managed to catch a couple of snook and missed a couple immediately after arriving. Rob had reminded me that he would not accept a fish that I had hooked. He wanted to hook his own fish. OK. That was fine.

But, not long after we arrived at our spot the wind shifted to the northwest, and what little action we had shut down. We worked the area hard and could get nothing but kill strikes. But, we were on lots of fish! I’ve been in the position many times, as have many other guides. The best strategy is to stick with it, keep hitting the fish on the head, and wait on the tide. Patience is the operative word under adverse conditions. Although I was frustrated, I was confident that as the tide flooded the flats, we would have some kind of a bite.

But, at 10:30, Rob said he was ready to go in. I was shocked. After planning this trip far in advance, and then deciding to chance the weather, he wanted to go in because we weren’t catching. I reminded him that the best part of the tide and the day were still ahead of us. But, his mind was made up. He wanted to go. I reluctantly readied the Talon for the ride home, feeling that Rob must be holding me accountable for not catching any fish. I felt awful.

As we neared the ramp I told Rob that if he felt that I hadn’t done my job he didn’t have to pay me. I haven’t done that in many, many years. But, Rob was cool, and said that he didn’t blame me, and was fully aware of how fishing can be. Sometimes you catch, and sometimes you don’t. He paid me for the morning, and headed off to his office. I still felt bad, and my gut was telling me that if we’d stayed we would have eventually gotten some fish to eat. I think he had a lot of jobs going on in his company, and figured that if he wasn’t catching fish, he ought to be there with his men. I understand that, too.

I knew Friday, the day after a big front, would be a tough day. And, I told my friend John Murray so, and gave him a chance to cancel. But, John is a cool, laid back, no pressure kind of guy, and quickly decided it would be better to be out fishing and not catching that it would be to be laying on a beach somewhere with sand blowing in his face. Besides, he told me that against my advice, he had blackened a snook that he’d caught with me last year, and that it was the best fish he had ever eaten. His mission was to catch just one keeper snook. He was dying to have blackened snook, again, and fix it for his company. We were on!

I hit the water very early. One of the barges at the causeway had big light on while they poured concrete for one of the pillars, and I figured there would be plenty of bait nearby. And, there was! It only took about an hour to load up with what I was pretty sure was mostly shiners. Time would tell. I was back at the dock at around 6:30, and John came ambling down the dock at around 7 AM, even though I had told him to meet me at 7:30. We would get an early start. And, while waiting on John to show up, virtually everyone I talked with reported the same kind of result on Thursday. And, yes! The fish did bite late on the tide!

Knowing what the fronts do to the fishing, my strategy was to go somewhere I knew there were plenty of fish and just keep hitting them on the head in hopes that they would eventually eat. But, the strong northeast wind was still blowing the water out even after if was supposed to be coming in. I was barely floating. In fact, in some places I wasn’t floating.

I knew we had lots of snook there, and they confirmed that over and over, as virtually every bait we tossed into the water came back with the classic snook kill strike on it. But, we couldn’t even feel it happen. They just weren’t interested. Patience was the order of the day, and John was very much so. Finally, we caught the first snook that was foolish enough to bite. Then, not too much later, all hell broke loose as John fought a great snook to the boat during some tense, hi-pressure moments, knowing it was his keeper snook he wanted to take home. It was a beautiful 29 inch snook, and it had taken up residency in the Talon’s baitwell, and had an invitation to dinner at the Murray’s house.

A long dry spell of scaled sardines followed. John was not at all bothered by the lack of action. I think he knew instinctively what I was telling him about being patient was true. We kept at it. As the tide finally overcame the wind and began to flood the flats, we moved on. We kept after the illusive snook, with the same results. I decided to use the remaining slack time as travel and setup time. We moved to another area a few miles away.

Within a minute or two, John was startled out of his relaxed state when a redfish smashed his bait and took off. John had never caught nor eaten a redfish, and that was his next goal. He was thrilled when I told him it was a redfish, but it was just short. We had to find more.

We moved a short distance and began again. Suddenly we were on some action, and in the following hour John boated 3 or 4 snook and 2 more keeper redfish. We had a limit of snook and reds.

We were just about ready to pull up the Power Pole and head to the Waterfront Restaurant, which was another thing on John’s to-do list, when my cell radio went off. It was my good friend Rey Rodriguez, and he was broken down around on the beach side of Sanibel about half mile from the Sanibel Lighthouse. After some discussion, we told him we were on our way to tow him in. We realized that it would likely be too late for lunch once we had gotten Rey back to port, especially since John wanted to save plenty of room for that blackened snook, so we agreed that we would let nothing keep us from going to the Waterfront next year. John was happy as a clam that he had his goals met, and had a snook and redfish to feast on that night.

So far, it’s a very strange year. Clear waters. Visibly absent grasses on the flats. No rain. Bait that won’t leave the causeway. And, next week it’s May, and the tides are once again those horrible creepy-crawly tides that are so hard to fish. I do hope things will eventually get back to normal!

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