Sunday, June 26, 2011

Plan B

This Saturday John D, Matt and I planned on running out to Pelican Reef for some bottom fishing, and maybe a little trolling for kings, but as fate would have it we ended up on 8A once again.  As we headed SE to Pelican, we made a joint decision to forego the savage seas and run with them instead of against them by turning the bow to the NE and running to the Old Faithful inshore reef that has turned into my home away from home-8A. As we trolled around once we got there and looked for a good spot to anchor up, I dropped a ballyhoo behind us and it didn't take long to get the bonita to hit. After that we fished hard and ended up with 10 or so sea bass and had to (heartbreakingly) throw back a few NICE red snappers.  This was John's personal best snapper and he, to say the least, was unhappy to throw it back, as I was when I threw back my 6-8 pounder. Matt had a few great hits but he was never able to get them out of the rocks.  As usual in the summer time, the thunderstorms in the late afternoon kicked up and it was a little wet coming in, but all in all, it was worth the run out.







Archived post- Identity Crisis?

This is a post I wrote a while back on my I-pod, I figured I'd share-


Blythe and I were having dinner with some friends the other night-- cobia that I had caught the day before, along with the shrimp I had caught and a salad full of lettuce from a garden in Canaveral Groves and tomatoes and peppers and onions from our small plot—and after dinner the conversation between Blythe and I turned to trying to figure out where we fit in in today's society/social structure.  I’ve been mulling over potential names for a business, which involves a certain amount of soul searching and trying to figure out where I fit in. I wouldn’t say we’re hippies or granolas but we do live off the land to some extent, so to say, and we do enjoy this type of living.  I guess you could say we’re in some way having an identity crisis. What would we be called if someone was describing us?  To answer that, I made a list of labels that were close to the mark but not so close that I would say "yeah, that's it."  I've put a few words down behind each label indicating what I think of when I hear it.

Outdoorsman? Reminds me of hiking in the mountains…
Salt cracker? I think of beach sand and sea oats…
Redneck?  hate it; pisses me off when someone calls me one.
Cracker? dust, tanned leather, cows.
Pirate? not really…
Islander? Maybe? But I'm not black…
Harvester? Sounds bloody.
Hippy? Ugh, smelly.
Granola? Old school? Weirdos? Self Sustaining?

Pondering those labels led me to think about a podcast I heard a while back that mentioned silent sports: sports like surfing, rock climbing, and hiking that can be done in solitude and don’t put much of a strain on the earth.  A few nights ago we did our yearly inventory of the chest freezer and it kinda made me think…  Am I just a barbaric meat- monger?  Or is my hobby justified because I provide the friends and fam with good, wholesome non-hormone pumped protein?  At what point does polluting the soils with shotgun loads and pumping the rivers full of emissions from the outboards increase my “footprint”?  Better yet, how do I wipe it out of the sand after making this theoretical “carbon footprint”?  I don’t go trash islands and dump fuel into the water, but I am out on the ocean or river week after week.  

And why is it always in the pursuit of game? Does it have to be? Why do I get up and pack the boat at 0400 in the morning in the bitter cold when so many people are walking home from bars and night clubs? Does the drive from within come from the pursuit itself or the yield at the end of the day? I think it stems from the worky job: working in a field that doesn’t yield anything tangible and has no real outcome other than numbers in a spread sheet.  No new walls built or real measureable outcome to hang my hat on or walk away from at the end of the day.  I think this is what has driven me deeper into the woods and further out to sea over and over every weekend: the drive to have a performance measure, whether it be a full cooler or a story of the one that got away.  At least it’s something.
One of my favorite things Blythe has quoted out of a book was “the journey is the destination.”  I’m trying to execute my outdoor activities with this in mind so that as soon as the boat hits the water I’ve fulfilled my goal and anything beyond that is just icing on the cake.

So, this leads me to today and the coastal type of living I enjoy.  Following migrations, patterns, seasons and stories looking for the next thing I can do to make another story.  Trying to live like the people that inhabited these islands and swamps long before any of us were ever even born, the Florida Crackers, a rag-tag bunch of misfits that drove cattle, hunted gators and manatees and fished and shrimped till they couldn’t stand anymore. Identity crisis solved- I consider myself an “Island Cracker.”   

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Just an FYI-

I was able to pick up two more tags for this year's gator hunting so if you're wanting to join me, start making contact with me now so I can get an idea of how I'm going to set up my hunts. I've got 4 tags to burn: 2 for the first week (Aug 15th - 22nd) and two tags for the fourth week (Sep 5th - 12th). Then, if we have any left, it opens up again from Sep 12th to Nov 1st.

I'm wore out!

Well, at some point it has to catch up with you and there’s inevitably an end to the good harvesting.
Ross was still in town and I guess the soreness and throbbing in my fingers from cleaning so many sea bass had worn off enough to try to get out to 8A for another night trip. But with the adventures of the last week, a toll had been taken on me and my gear: I’d lost my GPS and a digital camera to water damage, my boat electronics were starting to get finicky, and I was getting tired. But regardless, we gave it another shot with a borrowed GPS and a waterproof camera in tow. This time, however, we only made it to the middle of the buoy line when my motor went into SafeMode, and we had to idle back in. It would have been a really long run in the 15kt east wind anyways. I’m glad it happened so close to port too. We gave fishing the port a shot to try to salvage the trip but, as usual, it didn’t produce. Oh well, it was worth a shot and over the last two weeks I’ve been able to have a lot of fun with good friends and spend time on the water which is what it’s all about. And no, I don’t have any more fight left in me; I’m going to crawl into a hole for a while.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

8A Trip #2



After the word got out that the tasty little morsels of the sea were plentiful (and in an attempt to fill the cooler again before THE MAN changes the catch limit to 5 per person from the current 15 per person), Uncle John, his son, Jeff, and I ran back out to 8A on Saturday with a little sloppier seas than Wednesday.  It was a little bit more work to get out there but it was well worth it. Jeff had the hot hand that day, bringing up one after another MONSTER sea bass. We ended up with 44 sea bass and 1 triggerfish but out of those 44 there were 8 over 16 inches with the biggest being 19 inches. It was a lot of fun getting them on light tackle. So with a full cooler and a few sore backs, we headed back to dry land. After the customary stop at Nautical Spirits for “rehydration,” we cleaned fish till a nasty storm kicked up from the north and forced us to seek safe harbor. We did get enough cleaned for them to take a bag full of fillets with them. So that left just me with a measly 34 to clean on my first Father’s Day, which taught me a few things: 1- send whole fish home with people, 2- I need better shade over the cleaning table, and 3- I’m good on sea bass for a while. Oh well, what’s a little sun burn… it was only noon and we (Blythe, Cora and I) had a day on the water ahead of us and I still had plenty of fight in me.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

8A Trip


Feeling bad about not getting much for the amount of time FishBob and I had spent on the water and about continually being plagued by this full moon, I thought of a SURE FIRE way to get some fish guts on the boat. After a few phone calls to our social coordinators and being granted permission for a play date, FishBob, Ross and I ran out to the 8A reef on Wednesday night to do a little night time reef fishing. Finally, success! Phew!  We loaded up the cooler with some tasty little black sea bass. Ross picked up a stinky bonita for the crab traps. Thank you, Ross. That was a fun fight-- involving the anchor line about three times. It was a lot of fun night fishing for once on the ocean: for one, it was MUCH cooler out there. After having battled the raging heat the last few days, it was a nice break. The seas were a non-issue, it was flat as a lake and the fish were biting well. We caught a few small red snappers and got taken into the rocks a few times: just enough to keep us interested and dropping down for more. I think the only issue we had was getting into cell phone range in time to meet our call- in curfew before the Coasties were sent out on a search and rescue mission and the only issue with that was we just started getting some really good bites when we had to call it a night. Bummer. Add a sat phone to the next Bass Pro list to avoid that situation again. Oh well.  We cleaned fish into the wee hours of the morning and I still had plenty of fight in me.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Ditch Crabs


During our inlet encounter, Jonah had mentioned how well the blue crabs were running at Haulover
Canal on one of his late night adventures with the mighty Poncho, and that really got my mouth watering for some crabby patties. FishBob was in town from San Diego and I thought it would be fun to show him how we get those “ditch crabs” and hopefully some shrimp too. So, Saturday night after a little nap, FishBob, Jonah and I headed up to the wildlife refuge to try to get a bucket full of goodies.  Ultimately it turned into a really, really, really long night with very little to show for it; I think we ended up with a dozen crabs and, like, 9 shrimp. Whatever. We tried.

So, with about 3 hours of sleep under our belts, FishBob and I woke up early and tried to get some flats fishing in before it got too hot. It didn’t take long to get hot… but the only thing we caught was a buzz-fish at brunch after we got off the water. We tried top water, soft plastics, doing the lucky fish dance, and everything in between with zero success. I think the full moon got us on that trip: the fish were out there but we could only hook a few and didn’t get anything to the boat. Yes, that’s right; I just told you I got skunked!!! For the first time in I don’t know how long, I got smoked. Oh well, it was fun being on the water and I still had plenty of fight left in me…

Inlet trip


It’s been a blur of south wind, broken gear, bait buckets and fish cleaning the last two weeks and I’ll try my best at remembering everything I’ve done.


I think it started two weeks ago really, really early in the morning, fishing around the inlet with Jonah for whatever we could get for his hungry freezer.  Jonah and I headed down there and fished around Honest Johns for the early portion of the morning then migrated to the inlet to catch the outgoing tide just before noon. We did relatively well for not having fished the inlet for a long time. When we were on the flats, we caught a bunch of 18 inch trout on top water lures. Jonah the great white warrior of the IRL was in rare form for this excursion and it was fun to get a bunch of fish for his freezer. He was telling me his method of choice for cleaning fish which consists of cutting the heads off and then just gutting them and wrapping them in foil and sticking them in the fridge. I was convinced I was going to look back after he caught his next fish and he was going to just be eating it like a freaking cave man. Anyways, after it started heating up we cast netted some bait and anchored up at the inlet and caught a mixed bag of species reds, snappers and the always present junkfish... Once we were out of bait and soaked in sweat there was no other option but to head to OutRiggers and meet up with Noah who is on a personal campaign to bring back the standup jetski. We had had some beverages, rehydrated and we were ready for the next adventure.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Alligator's Back on the Menu!

Today was the (my) highly anticipated 2nd phase of alligator tag release.  This phase is different from the first because it's first-come-first-served, not a random drawing lottery.  I picked up the coveted First Week Lake Poinsett Area.  This is only important because, as you've seen from previous posts, the daylight hunting time has been extended for the first time ever.  Now hunters have 2 hours before sunset to 2 hours after sunrise to stalk those slinky savages of the swamp.  I will definitely keep everyone posted with preparations and, of course, results.  First thing on the list is dusting off the old john boat and mounting the new (to me) 25hp mercury on it.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

ok time to write again.

Well, it’s been quite the busy two weeks since the last post: between recouping from the CFOA tournament, heading up to the Florida Folk Festival and this last weekend’s FSFA club tournament festivities, I barely found time to get my tired ass on the water. 
I’ll start off with the yearly migration to White Spring, FL for the 49th annual folk fest-- not to mention Cora’s first annual folk fest and, boy, was she excited.  As usual, it was a great time with friends and family listening to music, watching golf carts racing by at the camp sites, eating amazing food, swimming, cooling down in the Suwannee River and, as always, enjoying a few late night antics.  The thing to note this year was it was HOT.  Even in the shade that covers the majority of Stephen Foster State Park, I was feeling the heat all weekend.  But Cora did great and by heading inland on a Memorial Day weekend, we managed to avoid the cluster “F” of newly awakened hibernating summer boaters.

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On to the week leading up to the FSFA Offshore Slam tournament.  I wasn’t thinking the short week would hold that much for me to do but keep an eye on the weather due to the fact that I hadn’t yet decided whether I would enter the tournament or not.  But I had mentioned to John M, who was a tournament committee member, that I would lend a hand with any of the logistics that needed handling throughout the week. Dumb idea if you wanted a relaxing weekend.  I ended up taking a load of stuff to John’s from the regular monthly meeting the next night.  Then Blythe, Cora and I went to a “bucket packing party” to help adhere stickers from all the sponsors to the outsides of about 102 5-gallon buckets, customized with a new nylon rope handle.  Then we added small goodies to each bucket via a makeshift assembly line.  It was fine: a little pizza, some beers, and a good time with a bunch of people I didn’t know.  Then came the Captains’ Meeting (in our club’s case, Party) on Friday night.  I think CJ said we sold out of the 18 cases of beer we had in an hour and a half… yikes, sailors, yikes. With Blythe, and Cora once again in tow, we headed over as soon as I got home from work.  I was given the task of helping out with the registration, getting captains registered for the tourney and giving them the sweet buckets of treasures we so tirelessly stuffed just a few days before.  Blythe and Cora were tasked with selling raffle tickets for a kayak that was the grand prize giveaway at the end of the weigh-in on Saturday.  After a while, Blythe headed home and I stuck around to man my post.  I think the final tally of boats was just under 80. 

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At the captains’ meeting I still hadn’t committed to doing the tournament but I had my checkbook ready on standby just in case I had a lucky feeling, but I ended up thinking myself out of it.  It went something like this, “Remember, self,” I said to myself, “gator tags are still available so if you spend all your play money on this tourney that you really don’t have a chance at, in weather that you have no business being out in, then you might not be able to try for the 2nd phase of gator tag which is first come first serve this Wednesday.”  So me and myself stayed and helped clean up the gymnasium till relatively late into the night. 

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So since I wasn’t fishing Saturday, Blythe, Cora and I started the day by minivan shopping…mmmm…fun.  After finishing with that and after a quick stop at the in-laws, I picked up a cooler of Bud Light with Lime and my lawn chair then I headed over to the weigh- in to see if me and my sweaty Volunteer shirt from the night before could lend a helping hand.  I ended up helping bring the boats in, helping with the dock duties and getting the fish tagged, categorized and ready to weigh in for the majority of the afternoon.   The port was a bit busy with the tourney and the Hot Rod Power Tour (car show) going on at the same time but it all worked out.  Blythe, Cora and Holly came up to witness the carnival and have a beer while they weighed in the last few fish. They left shortly after the final results were confirmed, leaving me once again to help break down about 5 times the stuff as the night before with ½ the help.  It was a good challenge and a tough break down after a long day in the hot sun.  Got home pretty late Saturday night too and didn’t have much fishing in my near future in mind especially after my “quick detour” to Thirsty Bones (ultimately being picked up and driven home by Holly; thanks, Holly!) What? The pizza wasn’t ready yet, what was I supposed to do????  Ended up getting home around 9:50 pm, grubbing some Hungry Howie’s and apparently trying to convince Holly to take home one of our dogs…whatever, it was Blythe’s dog.

Back to the outdoor part, right!!!  Now Sunday morning I got up and checked all the weather sites at around 0600 and it didn’t look TOOOOOOO bad.  To my standards, at least. It was about 3 ft seas and an ENE wind at about 10-13 mph.  It didn’t look like there was going to be a “good time or bad time” to hit it, so I cozied back in bed and slept for a while longer.  I gave Adam a call once I decided to get moving and left a message letting him know that there is life outside of lawn work on the weekends and I began to load the boat.  After a little while, he came to his senses and accepted the offer, an offer to possibly become adrift with me out at sea and possibly never have return to work again.  We loaded the boat and rolled out of the driveway at around 1100 and after a quick stop at Wal-mart for a few essential items, we were on the water before we could say, “damn that wind looks like it’s kicking.”  We didn’t really have a good plan, I kinda wanted to catch a kingfish but I wasn’t dead set on it.  I had in mind just running to the lead wreck (straight east of the port about 14 miles) and fishing there for a little while and then calling it a day but once we crested the jetty, I knew that that plan was out.  We decided to hit the buoys on the way out and the first one we came to was loaded with tripletail but with the wind and seas making it extremely difficult to stay in one place, or even get an accurate cast for that matter, we only caught one off the buoy and headed into the wind to the ENE.  With Adam’s fish in the cooler we stuck with the buoy idea and went to R4 and eventually R2 with no success.  From R2 we were about 12 miles out and straight south of the 8A reef, so we headed north to the reef to see if anything was home.  The wind and seas were anything but favorable but we smashed through them and made it there, sore but alive.  We started by doing a few drifts over the reef with live bait to try to pick up a kingfish but nothing.  Then we decided to get some sea bass; since we were all the way out there, why not come home with our 5 each?  So anchors away and sea bass, here we come.  I think it was Adam’s first drop: he was up front and I was getting bait, when I looked up his rod was bent way over and he was quietly, slowly reeling up.  “What is it, Adam?” I asked, like he would know. Slowly he reeled, trying not to break the 15 pound test line on the rod he was using.  We were using light tackle, by the way.  Finally we could start to see it… A flounder!!  A big one.  “Now we’re talking,” I thought, “a few of these and we’re good to go.”  But it was the only one of the day, the rest of the day was full of sea bass and float lines getting hit but not hooked up.

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 We did see a 10 foot or so hammerhead shark, which was only unnerving because there were two boats of divers down.  Oh well, it was nice getting out there and getting a few fish. We got home just in time for our wives to have cooked up some cobia sandwiches, NICE! WE LOVE WIFY'S...

Adam really liked his 8 pounder...
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