So this weekend started a little early for me; that comp time was burning a hole in my, um, pocket, I guess… is that where you keep comp time? Whatever. I took Friday off, that’s what I’m trying to say, geez! So I took off Friday to try my hand at catching the cobia migrations again. I had been reading the reports and the fishing’s been good all week. Late Thursday while I was at Doc’s bait house grabbing a PBR with Adam, I talked to a friend who said he was seeing some right off the second buoy (I think he said it was buoy #9 or 4). Before I talked to him, I had already developed my own hypothesis as to where I thought the migration had taken all my precious fishies. My theory was that, as I had been fishing for them the last few weekends a few miles further north each time each weekend, why would it change this weekend, right? My plan had been to fish the area that is called “the bite” -- the shoreline that stretches from the north jetty of the port to the tip of the cape. Then, from there, fish from the tip of the cape out east into the water where there is a series of shoals where the ocean has seemed to reclaim the area that used to be a part of the great land of Florida. This is called, well, naturally, “the shoals.” I had high hopes; I enjoy fishing with myself on occasions like Friday when the pressure’s not really on me to get a fish in the box and I can try out new lures and techniques as well as sharpen existing skills. I stuck with my float plan and stuck around the buoy line for an hour or two first thing in the morning, but I wasn’t seeing anything: not any rays, not any bait pods, not even any of what has made themselves a constant on the horizon lately- other boats. So I moved on to option two: the bite. Mmm… Nope, nothing there, how about the shoals… Nope, nothing. By now it was getting late, 11:00 or so, and also HOT. I figured the fishing might be getting started a little later in the day since the moon was still on the fuller side the night before, and I motored my happy butt back to square one, close to the mouth of the port. Once I got within a mile or so of the south jetty which is part of Jetty Park I began seeing some water temp changes and I decided to idle along those rips and see if there were any predators waiting around the area looking for a quick meal. Sure enough, I ended up getting a few small tripletail (around 12 inches) before I picked up my first and only keeper of the day. It was about 18 inches, 6 pounds or so and I caught all of them within 400 yards of one another. I missed a really nice 10 pounder, because when I was reeling in the line/lure I looked away at another boat approaching (or stared it down basically) to try to determine if they saw the same fish I was casting at and when I looked back at the water all I saw was a big open mouth with my lure right at some hungry lips…and… well, I ran out of water and pulled the lure another inch to an atmosphere that fish don’t tend to feed in…air. Oh well, it was only Friday and I had plenty of adventure left in me. Off to Nautical Spirits for some dinner with the fam.
While I was cleaning fish Friday evening after dinner, Jonah returned my calls from earlier in the week where I was complaining about not getting any of the super moon shrimping action. We somehow coordinated (without a woman’s help) a “quick” trip to the river breeze ramp to try again at getting our five gallons of shrimp in one night. We planned on just shrimping ‘til midnight or so, but you know how that usually works out with us by now…I think I got home at, mmmm….4 a.m? If you have never been to the river breeze ramp in Oak Hll, like I had not, you are in for a treat!!! This place puts the Grills boat ramp follies to SHAME! Not to go into great detail, but here’s a quick example: when Jonah and I arrived, two of the four ramps were busy with one person on the furthest end with their trailer stuck on the dock and the guys closest to us was installing a trolling motor at the waterline on the ramp. The poor guy with his trailer stuck had his wife or girlfriend “helping” (that is, if yelling stuff is helpful) “NO, NO, left...NO, NO Right! RIGHT!!!” Aww man, it was good. Anyways, back to shrimping…we thought it would be a good night when we’re idling down the channel and there were shrimp flicking and jumping in the little bit of water between the hundreds of boats around us. Once we got set up, we quickly began dipping shrimp as fast as our nets could dip. Somewhere in the dipping frenzy I picked up the Mantis Shrimp; if I knew I had I wouldn’t have brought it home (see pictures) but I didn’t see it in the bucket till Sunday while I was cleaning. Blythe was enamored with it and insisted I put it on the blog. Anyway, it started out to be a good draw but turned out letting us down once again with our bucket only yielding 3 gallons of small-medium shrimp by night’s end. I think I counted my half of the shrimp while I was cleaning them and last count was 27 dozen in a gallon and a half. Yikes, maybe I should say size small-small. Oh well, it was only 3 a.m. and I still had plenty of fight in me.
Once I got home, I quickly gathered my gear. Gear, you think? What gear, crazy Nate? That would be my TURKEY hunting gear. Yes, that’s right I applied for turkey hunting tags back in November and this last weekend was my tags days. I had told Doug I would go out on Saturday morning for a chance to get this year’s Thanksgiving turkey. We had planned on meeting up at my house at 0530 and heading to Seminole Ranch which is about 2 miles from Fort Christmas in Bithlo. Somewhere between shimping and leaving for the ranch I laid down for an hour nap, by the way. Once Doug arrived and we loaded the truck we got there in record time and we were still the 19th set of hunters into the wildlife management district so the spots were slim pickings. Doug and I didn’t have that much of a premonition that we were going to get anything; we had hunted there a few times during small game season and didn’t see or hear any turkeys but we figured we would give it a shot anyways. After an hour and a half of walking trails and service roads, calling, stopping and listening, we never even heard a bird. The morning came to an early end for us, fine by me, and we headed back to the coast. Oh well, it was now 0930 Saturday morning and I’ll be honest; I didn’t have any fight left in me any more...
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