Susan Cocking's Outdoors

A strange bonefishery

On the final day of my vacation in Bonaire (one of the ABC islands of the Netherlands Antilles; the others are Aruba and Curacao), I got a chance to do some bonefishing.  This is an unusual fishery compared to what we are familiar with in South Florida and the Bahamas.  The only really good place to bonefish in Bonaire is on the Cargill salt flats.  Unfortunately, this is private property, and anglers can only enter with a permit from the company, or with a permitted guide such as Chris Morkos.  The salt flats are a vast, landlocked estuary where ocean water enters through a couple of sluice gates and is channelled into containment ponds to evaporate and be collected to make the salt you put in your margaritas.  It is impossible to fish from a boat; you park your vehicle and wade on the flats.  In a morning of fishing, I didn't see any bones at all.  But in the afternoon, I followed a channel from one of the sluice gates until it drained into a shallow flat.  Within the first five minutes of walking in the knee-deep water, I saw a tailer and got so nervous that I hit the fish with the fly.  For the next hour, I probably saw a dozen more tailers, but couldn't manage to plant my fly where they would readily eat it.  (Sometimes, when you hit a fish with a cast, you become gun-shy and then don't cast close enough!)  Whether I was using the right flies or not (tiny, dark salmon-like patterns), I wouldn't know because I never got anything even close to a take.  I remembered from a trip there about a decade ago that the bonefish like to eat small, black crabs.  And captain Jan Maizler of Bay Harbor, who goes there often, advises not to use anything with lead eyes.  Anyway, it was an interesting project and one I would like to try again.   

Attack of the leaping sturgeons

About a month ago, I spent some time along the Suwannee River in north Florida where a popular summer pastime is to watch sturgeon leaping into the air.  These huge fish, which are federally protected and resemble alligators with fins, come from the Gulf into Big Bend and Panhandle rivers during the summer to spawn. Here is the latest mishap of man versus fish:

Milton

brothers struck by leaping sturgeon

            Two brothers from

Milton

are the latest victims to get clobbered by a leaping sturgeon.

            Sam, 43, and Chris Parish, 25, were enjoying a leisurely morning of bass fishing on the

Yellow River

June 28 until a leaping Gulf sturgeon, estimated 5 – 6 feet in length, came over the bow and hit both men in their faces and upper bodies.  They escaped the encounter with minor cuts, scrapes and bruises.  The sturgeon ended up back in the river.

            Neither brother required medical treatment.

            Sam ended up with a cut over his left eye and a cut to his right forearm.

            “My wife said I should have gotten stitches to the cut over my eye but I didn’t.  It did leave me with the perfect impression of a pectoral fin in my right arm but it went away after a while,” he said.

            Sam said he was in the boat’s rear seat and the collision knocked him out of his seat and against the outboard motor.

            “If it hadn’t been for the motor, I’d have ended up in the river,” he said.

            Chris was operating the 16-foot boat and took a glancing shot from the sturgeon to the head. 

            The brothers said an elderly couple who were bream fishing saw the sturgeon strike them and came to their assistance.

            The United States Geological Survey (USGS) estimated the Gulf sturgeon population in

Northwest Florida

rivers in 2002 and 2004.  They placed the number of sturgeon in the

Yellow River

at 500 – 900 fish.  They estimated 2,000 sturgeon venture up the

Choctawhatchee

River

each spring.

            As scary as a single collision is on the Yellow or other Northwest Florida rivers, they pale in comparison to the number of collisions on the

Suwannee

River

.  In 2006 and ’07 one person was killed and 18 were injured on the

Suwannee

after being struck by the bony, armor-plated fish.

            Although a lot of suggestions have been offered, no one knows why sturgeons leap into the air.

            Gulf sturgeon can grow to 8 feet in length and weigh more than 200 pounds.  They are a protected species in

Florida

.

            To report sturgeon collisions, call 1-888-404-FWCC (3922).

            

What a month it has been!

It would be difficult to find a better all-around fishing month in South Florida than June.   Throughout this month, I've had reports of:  huge tarpon on the flats; huge dolphin offshore; huge muttons on the reef; huge snook in Jupiter Inlet;  and steady swordfish in the deep water.  Some hardy explorers even managed to catch bluefin tuna along the Bahama bank.

So far, I have been unsuccessful in my personal quest --a permit on the flats on my fly rod.  But this past month has almost made up for it.  A couple weeks ago on the bonefish-rich flats of the east end of Grand Bahama Island, I released 3 out of 4 bonefish I hooked on fly rod in a single day.  Then two days later, I caught the biggest yellowfin tuna of my life -- a 60-pounder on 30-pound test near Long Island in the southern Bahamas.  I got it on a trolled skirted bally hoo -- nothing tricky.

A couple days after returning home, I went fishing in Islamorada with the crew of the Catch-22 out of Bud n' Mary's Marina.  Our crew was a bit conflicted between catching  a whole bunch of big dolphin for Andy Newman of the Florida Keys Tourist Development Council or furthering Vic Gaspeny's quest for a record number of swordfish caught in a lifetime. We managed to achieve both those goals.  We caught about 30 dolphin, a couple over 30 pounds, and Vic got his swordfish -- a 60-pounder of which I am still partaking.

Just when I thought things would slow down to the doldrums, I went up to Jupiter to fish with captain Cliff Budd.  After catching more bonitos than I ever wanted to see on fly rod, I released a huge snook -- easily over 20 pounds -- in the inlet on conventional gear using a sardine for bait.  Because of its swift currents and bottom structure, Jupiter Inlet is perhaps our region's  most reliable catch-and-release fishery for big snook in the summertime.  Hint: incoming tide.  It should only get better as the summer wears on.

If you're not catching fish now, you're not trying.

Vacation and life's quests

Yes, yes, I know --- my whole life is a vacation.  Outdoors writers get to do what they love, with very few exceptions ,and get paid for it -- albeit modestly.  And life is its own reward.  But I am going to take some time off the clock this Memorial Day weekend in furtherance of a long time goal:  to catch a permit on fly rod on the flats.  To try to accomplish this, I am travelling to Placencia, Belize, whose reputation is to be full of many stupid permit.  I have also heard the fish are small, but am hoping this isn't true, because I wouldn't want my first ever flats, fly-caught permit to be a six pounder! While still technically, a permit, such a catch is more reflective of an intellectually-challenged jack.  I have had lots of practice fly casting lately....catching not one but TWO giant tarpon on fly rod in the past two months, plus two fly-rod bonefish.  And last Friday, my friend and I took a fly-casting lesson with one of the best instructors in the universe, Miami's Chico Fernandez.  Even if you have been casting forever, Chico can point out little, wrong things you do that keep you from forming tight loops.  So I am ready.  I have purchased crab flies, new tippets and had my fly reels greased.

Should the whole attempt fall on its face (as the  one last year in Xcalak, Mexico did), I will still have fun diving with the whale sharks that gather around the spawning of the Cubera snapper.    And maybe I'll get some more chances this summer with some very  kind and patient guides in Key West and Biscayne Bay.  Of course, if I achieve my goal, one of the great things about being a newspaper writer is to be able to brag about it to one's heart's content with no repercussions.  Wish me luck.

Fishing "barguments"

A colleague of mine in the business department at the Miami Herald recently wrote a book on "Barguments" -- seemingly unwinnable debates over sometimes trivial issues that consume hours spent in bars.  An example of a "bargument" would be whether sailing is more of a sport than auto racing.  Debaters on both sides are likely to be equally passionate, but probably could never convince their opponent of their "rightness".

That got me to thinking about unwinnable fishing arguments, especially those pertaining to our diverse South Florida fisheries.  So I will now put forth my examples of fishing barguments.  You are free to add yours, which likely will be more original and thought-provoking than mine, since I may be a little too close to the issue:

1) Who is the better South Florida sailfisherman -- captain Ray Rosher or captain John "Louie" Dudas?

2) Which takes more skill, preparation and local knowledge:  kite fishing for sails or flats fishing for tarpon?

3) Should the harvest of goliath grouper be re-opened to recreational anglers?

4) Which is the smartest fish in the ocean -- examples:  gray snapper, snook, tarpon?  Which is the dumbest -- examples:  dolphin, cobia, jack crevalle?

5) And probably the most contentious of all -- overall, are men better anglers than women?

Please submit your comments and add barguments of your own.

Fly fishing, not catching

I headed up to one of my favorite places in the world to go fly fishing last weekend-- Mosquito Lagoon near Titusville.  Guide Nick Sassic had warned me that the south wind wasn't the best for locating redfish, indicative as it is of impending low pressure and also recognized for clouding up the east-central Florida skies.  Also, he couldn't stay out the whole day because he had a family commitment.  But I would not be deterred.

We departed from Beacon 42 boat ramp in the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge in his skiff, my 9-weight rigged with a small tan and white Clouser.

Of course the moment he started poling across the flats, the south wind began to puff up, along with the clouds.  We startled a hidden school of reds, which promptly vanished off the face of the earth, and later we drifted too close to a few barely-visible singles.

But then, the Grail....a tailing redfish with the telltale electric-periwinkle spot near its butt that marks it as a REALLY hungry fish.  Although nosing around no more than 20 feet from the skiff, the fish miraculously did not spook as I made my backcast.

The fly landed right next to the redfish, but instead of acting frightened, the fish turned frantically back and forth, looking for the fly.  What a miracle.  See how many times that happens to you!

At Sassic's urging, I made a couple of strips, and felt a bump -- woo-wee! I made a quick strip-strike and......nothing.  The fish swam off.

Huh?

I stripped the line in and examined the fly only to find -- with great disappointment -- that a wind knot had wrapped the tippet around the hook, greatly interfering with its appearance and presentation.

"The fly was probably swimming backwards," Sassic offered.

As I sputtered and fumed, he added, "That's fly fishing."

We didn't see too many more reds after that.  I did manage to bean one of a pair on the head with the fly, something I could NEVER accomplish if I were actually aiming for it.  Of course, both fish fled in terror.

The winds and clouds increased, and too soon, it was time to go back to the boat ramp.

What sets fly fishing apart from bait fishing is that you appreciate every single encounter, no matter how disappointing or infrequent, that involves trying to convey a silly little concoction of fur and feathers to a fish.  When you actually manage to catch a fish, you never, ever forget it and you savor it like other Big Firsts in your life.

If it were easy, I think most of us would lose interest.  Since it's not, it often becomes a lifelong pursuit.

If you are ever up in central Florida and want to take a shot at the big reds, call Sassic -- 386-479-3429.

The importance of current

A couple days ago I went fishing with a light-tackle guide in southwest Florida's Estero Bay near Fort Myers.  It was the only day that both of us were free, and the blustery weather of the previous few days had calmed down to manageable proportions.  It was foggy when we set out, but the vaporous skies were pretty much irrelevant because we weren't planning to sight-fish anyway.  The idea was to target shorelines, channels, sandy troughs, and oyster bars with live shrimp, pilchards (white bait, on the west coast), and threadfin herring.  The only caveat was that tide charts showed only a very slight variation -- a matter of a few inches -- between the high and low that day -- "a one-tide day", as the guide put it.   

That one-tide day proceeded to wreck our fishing.  It didn't matter what location we chose -- moving water was nowhere to be found.  For most of the day, all we managed to catch was a very small snook, a couple ladyfish, and about a half-dozen catfish. Not even a jack, which as we all know, is really weird.

Finally in late afternoon, we stopped at a dock near Fort Myers Beach where you could actually detect minute ripples wrapping around the pilings.  Eureka!  Current, at last!  Casting threadfins underneath a large yacht, we got cut off probably a half-dozen times -- most likely by big snook.

When the tide began to slow, the monstrous snook refused to abuse us anymore so we went to a small mangrove island with a trace of tide sweeping through the sandy trough surrounding it.  Here, I actually caught and released a slot-sized snook.

And that was it for the day.  No more runs, hits, nor errors.

It's true what they say on television that the best day to go fishing is any day you can.  So keeping that in mind, you can  at least learn something from not catching any fish.

Really huge wahoo.......story by Tony Albelo

New

Bahamas

Tournament Record Wahoo

January 20, 2008, West End,

Grand Bahama

,

Bahamas

– “Karma.”  That was the word of the week at the second installment of the Bahamas Wahoo Challenge at

Old

Bahama

Bay

. It seems that this tournament is susceptible to karma… good karma in particular.  See, last year the tournament committee needed a ride to

West End

due to a boat issue.  They also needed a boat to help transport all the t-shirts and bags over.  “Nothin’s Wild” volunteered to shuttle the committee to

West End

and “Wake Up Call” agreed to transport the shirts. What were the results?  Well, “Nothin’s Wild” weighed in a 95-pound behemoth and won the tournament plus $48,000 dollars and “Wake Up Call” took home second place and $18,000.  There is that good karma we are talking about.  But that was last year.

This year, karma reared its beautiful head once again.  On day one, the team “Triple Chief” was headed for the docks with some nice fish when – silence hit them.  Their motors shut off and they realized that their sled was out of fuel.  The call for help was received at the docks while the weigh-ins were in full swing.  “Zephyros” heard the call and volunteered to take the stranded team some fuel and help their fellow anglers.  This deed would not go unpaid.  The teams that did make it to the docks on time weighed in some impressive fish including a 52, 57, and 60 pounders by “Savanna Lynn.”  This was good enough for them to take the lead after day one.  Right on their tail was “Ocean Alley” followed by “Knot Guilty.” 

Day two saw brisk winds and choppy seas, but the teams would not be deterred by the conditions.  All the teams headed out for a difficult day of fishing.  Slowly, but surely, the teams returned to the docks; each one of them a little earlier than they hoped.  Although early arrivals usually mark slow fishing, this was not the case.  The teams coming in were weighing some monster wahoo.  First to hit the scales was “Ocean Alley” with a pair of nice fish at 35 and 49 pounds.  This helped propel them into second place. Leg one’s winners “Top Vee” dragged up two giants at 48 and 69 pounds. That’s two tournaments in a row with 69-pound wahoo for the “Top Vee” crew.  But there was quite a rumble down the docks.  Things looked very active over by “Zephyros.” That’s right, the gas-toting heroes from day one had something nice in the boat; something really nice.  When this beast was lifted onto the docks, the crowd gave a collective gasp.  This fish looked as if was missing some sort of Naval markings.  This fish was huge. As it was dragged up to the weigh-station, everyone knew it would be special.  It was heaved onto the scales and it tipped it at 104.75 pounds!  This is the largest wahoo taken in any Bahamian tournament ever!  Just as if were written by a striking screenwriter, the heroes from day one were rewarded with a record-setting fish and $17,000.00.  Although this was the fish of a lifetime, it did not help the team in the “Overall” category.

The Overall Winner was “Savanna Lynn” who kept their first day total of 201.19 pounds with only four fish.  That’s an impressive average of over 50 pounds per fish!  Second place went to “Ocean Alley” with 198.30 pounds; just three pounds shy of first place.  And “Svengali” took home third place with 166.51 pounds.  Overall the tournament paid out over $70,000 in prizes.

The series is led by “Top Vee” with 222.27 pounds and followed by “Savanna Lynn” with 204.03 pounds.  The series champion is tallied by taking the teams heaviest two fish from each event and totaling the six-fish weight. 

Swordfish....we can take more than we think, but should probably stifle ourselves.

Imagine my embarrassment yesterday when I received a phone call from Islamorada daytime swordfish pioneer Vic Gaspeny informing me that my swordfish story that appeared in the Sunday Jan. 6 Miami Herald sports section incorrectly stated the recreational bag limit.  I had written in my article that recreational swordfishers are allowed to take 1 per person up to three per boat.  Vic said he was pretty sure that regulation had been recently changed, and asked me to double-check. 

My embarrassment turned to shock today when I reached NOAA public affairs specialist Monica Allen, who informed me that the bag limit changed as of July 2007 to one fish per person per day, up to a maximum of four per boat for recreational anglers; a maximum of six per boat for charterboats; and a maximum of 15 fish on headboats.

Allen  said that no news release was ever issued announcing the regulations change.  Indeed, when I Googled "swordfish recreational bag limit", all that came up were the old regs.  It wasn't till I searched the hmspermits.gov site that the new rules came up.

I don't know about you, but that seems like an awful lot of swordfish to be taken daily by supposedly recreational anglers.  Too many, it sounds to me.

Yes, yes, I've heard every tired argument about how the U.S. hasn't fulfilled its ICCAT quota since the mid 90s and if we don't catch it, it will go to other countries whose longliners and netters don't follow the same environmentally-responsible practices mandated here, such as circle hooks, live release of marlin and sailfish, etc.

But let's get real.  As Key West captain Kenny Harris put it:  "If not fulfilling the quota means less dead swordfish, then don't fill the quota."

I think we all know what happens in the case of a 28-foot open-fisherman that manages to bring in four 200-pound swordfish.  For one thing, there isn't enough ice or cooler space on board to keep the core in edible condition.  For another thing, do they  really know enough people (friends or enemies) to which to donate all that meat?  Of course not:  most if not all of that fish is being sold illegally.

And, even worse,  these outlaw 28-foot sportfishing guys  are not even contributing to fulfilling the U.S. quota because they are not reporting their landings to NOAA as required.   So, even though the fish is sold for consumption, it has lost most of  its value.   It's still dead; still removed from the gene pool; still counting little toward the economic value of South Florida's booming recreational fishery.

So don't be a bit surprised when the two-boat longlining study in the closed areas of the Straits off St. Augustine and the Charleston Bump concludes next year, and the longliners start clamoring to get back in.  At least they  honestly admit they are commercial fishermen.

You can catch snook in the slot

Now that Florida's snook regulations have become tighter, there is a lot of harping and complaining from anglers, particularly from South Florida,  that it is nearly impossible to catch a snook in the slot, which on the southeast coast, is 28 to 32 inches.

Excuse me, but earlier this evening, my neighbors and I dined on my own "snook Francaise" -- a tasty 29-inch snook that I caught Sunday in a canal between the Waterways and Golden Isles in northeastern Miami-Dade County.  It was the first snook that I've caught in probably six months.  I just haven' t been fishing for them very often.  I don't believe I just blundered into the only slot-sized snook for miles.  I think there are probably plenty more out there.

The reason I bring this up is because I have been receiving numerous unconfirmed reports of disgruntled snook anglers taking  fish over the limit and over the slot in protest over the new regulations, which took effect in September.  According to my sources, the argument is that the slot is so tight that no fish fall within it, so therefore poachers should be allowed to rape and plunder.

This is a "cut off your nose to spite your face" type of argument.  Why in the world wouldn't all snook anglers want to have oceans, estuaries, canals and rivers filled with snook?  Why does every argument have to be about how many fish somebody can take?  Don't you hear yourselves?  You sound like longliners or gill-netters who haven't made the leap yet to the new millenium.

I've said this many times before, but apparently it bears repeating:  we may be in a home-buying slump in Florida right now, but all of us who have lived here for more than a couple of years know that the slowdown eventually will end.  What that means is thousands more people moving to Florida every week, and most of them buying fishing licenses and snook stamps.

The population surge by itself might not harm snook stocks, which many anglers now characterize as robust and healthy.  But what about unpredictable, natural events such as sudden cold snaps and red tide outbreaks?  Wouldn't you like to have some kind of buffer to make sure snook aren't decimated?

I find it interesting that the same people who carp about the "overpopulation" of Goliath grouper and their supposed deleterious effects on snook stocks are the same ones who want to liberalize snook regulations. 

This is a finite resource.  No, you can't buy and sell it, but you can sure catch dinner.  Remember, I did it -- and I'm a girl!