Fishing Report for Pine Island Sound to Sarasota Bay, Florida

Capt. Butch Rickey
April 29, 2005
Pine Island Sound - Saltwater Fishing Report

REPORT FOR THE WEEK ENDING 4/30/05 by Capt. Butch Rickey

I love the guide business, but sometimes I wonder why anyone would want to be in it. It's such a fickle business in so many ways. We are at the mercy of the weather, the tides, the birds, hurricanes, and sometimes the misfortune of the customers and friends we love. This was such a week. It began with a full calendar, but degenerated into week of near unemployment.

My old friend Bill Meyer, of Centerreach, New York, was first up on Monday. He's been on a number of those great redfish trips where we just wore everyone out catching them. The plan was for more of the same.

But, I learned Sunday night that our plans were in jeopardy, as Bill had spend a couple days in bed with a very bad back. He was really hurting, and sine I've had my own back problem, I can surely sympathize with anyone in that position. I called Monday morning, and could hear the pain in his voice. Besides, Bill loves to fish, and I know if he's going to cancel a trip, he's got to be hurting. Bill will become a permanent resident of Cape Coral in July, and wants to learn about fishing here. I'm sure we'll get out then.

Monday night I could see the approaching cold front positioned over the panhandle. It was a big one, and the forecast for Tuesday was for lots of wind out of the south/southeast as this next freak winter storm pushed its way into Florida.

Tuesday was to be my first trip with John Murray, of Rochester, New York. I explained the weather situation to John at the dock, fully expecting that if we braved the strong wind ahead of the front, Mother Nature was reward us with a hot bite. It was a no-brainer!

Before we could get to Picnic Island for bait, the wind was howling. We also had a week of increasingly slower tides, and we had no water moving to speak of. Bait was a bit tougher, but once we finally got it chummed up, we loaded up. It took a few more throws, but it's good exercise, and I enjoy catching bait. Each throw of he net is like opening a Christmas present. You never quite know what will be in there.

This morning with John was a case in point. As we were nearing the end of the bait catching process I saw a chocolate colored silhouette follow my net back to the boat. It was actually biting at bait gilled in the net. The conditions were dark and the water very stained and dirty, and at first I thought it was a shark. But, as the fish chased the net right to the side of the boat we realized that it was a cobia of about 30 inches in length.

Quickly, we tried to get a bait into the water without interrupting our chumming. I stuck the rod in a rod holder. Soon, John noticed that the bait was back behind the boat and probably tangled in the engine. We scrambled to see what was on the other end, expecting it would be the curious cobia. It turned out to be a trout about 12 inches long. But, before John could get the trout into the boat, guess what happened. Yep! The cobia ate it, or tried to, anyway. At the side of the boat the cobia gave up the trout and we then realized that the trout was gut hooked, and there was no hook exposed to hook the cobia. Technically, I guess you could say John got a cobia, as we touched the leader!!

We headed into the Sound, and I decided to fish the Sanibel side hoping to get in a little bit of lee. But, the profile of the islands is so drastically changed since Charlie, there are so many trees gone, and what remains is beaten down so badly, there's just not much protection to be had from a bad wind.

The strong south wind had the tide ahead of schedule, which I hoped would work in our favor. We would get a higher than normal tide. It would move a bit better, too. But, Mother Nature gave us another obstacle. Birds! They made it nearly impossible to fish! I felt like I was in an Alfred Hitchcock movie! They were so bad, and I became so frustrated, I all but lost my religion. We had plenty of fish that appeared willing to eat, but the birds would dive on our baits the instant they hit the water, and steal any live chum I tried to throw.

We tend to think of birds as stupid critters, but since I got to spend some time around my daughter's umbrella cockatoo, I've learned different. They learn, and they learn behavior. They know when they see a guide get out his orange wifflebat, there will soon be shiners in the air. They materialize right out of thin air. They learn that once a fisherman has a bait in the water they can steal is as soon as the angler is distracted. Yes, they watch, and know when it's time to dive and steal the bait. And, they learn not to fear boats and fishermen because too many people open their baitwells to the birds at the end of the day and let them chow down on the leftovers, instead of scooping the bait out and letting it go at the last stop of the day. Most of these birds show absolutely no fear of boats, and we reap what we sow; a welfare class of birds.

John and I continued our contest of wills, determined to win. And, John managed to catch some snook. He was mightily impressed with their power and attitude. John is a freshwater fisherman, and smallmouth bass is his main species to fish. He's also been bonefishing in the Keys. By the end of our day John had boated 17 snook, with about half a dozen of them being less than an eighth of an inch short of the 26 inch slot. He was amazed at their ability to run and jump.

John had wanted to keep one fish for dinner at a restaurant that evening. Since his wife didn't eat fish, that would be all he needed. He really wanted his first taste of snook, but as a protected gamefish, if you want to eat it, you have to catch a fish in the slot. We had come up just short over and over, but John was having a blast doing so. We had put a nice trout in the well just in case. But, as the tide and the day wound down, John decided he'd let the trout go. He'd eaten trout, and knew how nice it tasted, but had really wanted to taste his first snook. We watched the healthy trout swim away.

Then on the last cast of the day, we had an Emeril Live moment. Bam! Fish on! I think John and I both instinctively knew it was the keeper he'd wanted. It had more juice than the other fish he'd caught that day. If he could just get the fish to the boat he'd have his first snook dinner. But, snook are the Houdinis of the flats. They're the masters of the get-away! Any error on the anglers' part usually results in a lost fish. They're also very adept at getting away even when there is no angler error.

But, this time John would win. It was almost as it there was Divine intervention. John quickly noted that because we had put the trout back, he was blessed with the snook he'd wanted. God truly does work in mysterious ways, sometimes.

We decided that there could be no better way to end our day, and headed for home. Back at the ramp, and later on the phone, I learned that virtually everyone had struggled on a day when we all thought we'd have a hot bite. We'd all put our customers on fish, but nothing like we had imagined. But, 17 snook along with the other fish he'd caught, had been just the right exposure to give John a bad case of Snook Fever. Yes! It's a water-born condition spread by casual contact, and there is NO known cure! John vowed to be back.

I watched the weather with great interest Tuesday evening. At just after midnight the fireworks began, and lightning lit the bedroom and the soul soothing sound of thunder and rain went on through the night. I knew my first trip with James Kennedy and his wife was in jeopardy. I knew that even if the weather got through the area in time to get on the water, there would be strong winds from the northwest, and there would be no bite.

James is the 77 year old father of my customer John Kennedy. John bought this trip for his Dad as a Christmas present. John had told me a lot about his dad, and I knew he was going to be a whole lot of fun in the boat. I was really looking forward to spending the day with him. But, it was not to be. James called just as I was about to go out the door to fetch the Talon in the rain. I explained how I saw the conditions. If it had just been James and me, we might have gone for it, but James didn't want to go out there and get soaked and beaten up, knowing the fish probably wouldn't eat.

So, we had a very nice chat on the phone and got to know each other a bit. I could see that John's description of his dad was very accurate. He was fun to talk to on the phone, and very nice. We decided to try to reschedule in the fall when weather is not so likely to be a factor. It was the right call.

Thursday brought the inevitable strong post front northeast wind. It was already howling that morning as I met my old friend Jack Crozier, and his son-in-law Chris, of Beaver, Pennsylvania. Jack and I have had some great trips together over the years. He's a cutup and a tease, and always fun. Although Jack didn't say it, I instinctively knew this trip was for Chris. I also knew before we left the dock it would be a tough day what with the north wind, the starving birds, and a fifteen hour creepy-crawly tide that would be stopped in its tracks by the wind.

Yes, most of what happens out there on the water is very predictable. It always amazes me how much the wind can affect the tide. On this coast a north wind will tend to hold up an incoming tide, and accelerate an outgoing tide. If it's strong enough, it will stop an incoming tide in its tracks, and blow the water right out of the Sound on a falling tide. I knew that if the wind persisted, it would all but stop our slow moving tide cold. That would be a kiss of death on the catching.

But, we went forth with determination and anticipation in spite of the conditions. This was all new for Chris, and he'd never caught anything bigger than a panfish. He was excited at the prospects of what might come, and Jack was just happy to be out enjoying the water.

As we got to Picnic Island, my bud Capt. Rey Rodriguez waved me in to take over his bait. He'd gotten out a bit earlier and was just finishing up. With Chris on the bow dispensing the chum it didn't take us long to fill the livewell. I saw Capt. Stacey Abernathy coming in for bait and called him over to take over the bait we had chummed up. But, after a couple of throws his anchor slipped in the strong wind, and he had to start over. We stayed on the spot chumming until he could get back into position.

I won't bore you with all the details of fighting the birds and wind, but it was just like Tuesday, except there was no bite. Oh, practically every bait we tossed was scaled by our intended victims, but you couldn't even feel it happen. We did get a few fish to eat, but Chris wasn't having much luck getting a snook connected and keeping it that way. Jack's back was bothering him, and he was content to sit out and watch Chris, teasing him at every opportunity.

Chris finally broke the ice, though, and got his first snook to the boat. We kept chiseling away at it, and caught a fish here and there. We knew we were all over fish because at every spot the snook were scaling out baits. Plus, we saw many big snook that were spooked by the diving birds.

Our count was about 4 fish when all hell broke loose. A big snook had blasted Chris' bait and taken off for Mexico. Chris's eyes were the size of half dollars, and as I coached and encouraged him the first thing he realized as he stabilized on his adrenaline high was that his forearm was burning. Now this is a young man who lifts weights and is very buff! Jack and I scrambled around the boat trying to stay out of Chris's way while the big snook ran all over the flat. I realized that I should have the video on, and even though it was late by the time I did get it fired up, and the clip is very exciting.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we all breathed a big sigh of relief, as the Boga Grip went around the big female's lip to claim victory for Chris. He was so excited he was shaking. He couldn't believe what had just happened to him. He couldn't believe the power of that fish. Jack quickly told him that he'd managed to catch a bigger snook on his first outing than most people ever catch in a lifetime of trying. The icing on the cake was that Chris got a standing ovation from the folks in a nearby boat who had witnessed the whole thing. It was really cool as we high-fived and celebrated.

So, what had been a dreadfully slow day, had become a great day! I asked Chris if that was the biggest fish he'd ever caught, and he answered that every fish he'd caught that day was the biggest fish he'd ever caught. Great answer.

It would be impossible to top that fish, but we stayed with it until the tide was done crawling. Chris had more excitement as he tangled with his first jack crevalle. He was again shocked at how hard that five pound fish could pull. The last fish of the day took him into some Charlie debris where we were forced to break the line and then make sure the fish was free. It was a fitting way to end the day. We'd only managed to catch a handful of snook and a couple of jacks, but what a day it had been. Even the wind had laid down in the last hour, and the ride home was pleasant. My thanks to Jack and Chris to hanging in there on a very tough day.

Thursday evening I got an email from my friend Dan Rathka, down in Naples, wanting to know what time to meet me with his dad at the ramp in the morning. Our tide was another 15 hour crawler, and was flat nearly all morning long, so I advised him there was no point in being out there before ten o'clock. He emailed back that his step-mom was very ill, and his Dad had to catch a plane back north at 6 PM. A late start time wouldn't work and get him to the airport on time. I'm thinking that although we don't know her, this lady could use our prayers about now.

So, that's how a five day work week becomes a two day week. But, looking back over the past year, I'm just glad to be working. Next week is a new week, and promises to be very warm. That's just what we need to get the snook biting. We're still measuring water temps in the low 70's, and that's the biggest problem with snook. Any day, now, things are going to turn on. May promises to be hot in more ways than one!

Tight Lines!

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