Low And Slow Wintertime Tactics

 
Low And Slow With Wintertime Flies By Capt. Tony Petrella  

          There was a slight breeze out of the north. Nothing much to worry about, yet. But Capt. Thom Smith and I kept glancing at the gathering clouds forming over the Skyline Causeway in Lower Tampa Bay. It was mid-December, and we both were bundled in fleece vests and breathable rainjackets.

 

          Back in Michigan, where I guide half the year, I’d be chasing steelhead in the deep runs and pools of the Pere Marquette River in conditions worse than this in December, wondering if it was going to snow. Today, we were thinking redfish. And concerned more about  cold gusty winds than cold white flakes.

 

          “So, Capt. Tony—are you still going with the fly rod?” Thom grinned through his grizzled beard, knowing the answer. “Maybe I’ll slip a couple of M80s into my vest,” I replied quickly. “Oops, I guess the Fish Cops don’t let you do that anymore, do they?” Thom muttered something about “doesn’t stop some people around here” and finished launching.

 

          It didn’t take long for us to reach a spot that’s been pretty generous to Thom over the years. There were several oyster bars poking their razor-sharp backs out of the water, and a large pothole in front of a mangrove island a couple of hundred yards away looked promising. But casting, at this point, was the last thing on our minds.

 

          The biggest mistake newcomers make when they come to Florida in retirement or on vacation is thinking that 60-degree air temperature in December means that it’s “warm”. Sure, to someone who just arrived here from northern Michigan, it feels perfectly balmy. But the redfish are wearing hooded sweaters, and snook would love to find a roaring fireplace with some shrimp cocktails near at fin.

 

          That means, quite simply, that the secret to successful wintertime fishing—with fly or artificial lure—is to work it low and slow.

 

          Oh, yes. The other key ingredient is owning a pair of waders and not being afraid to get out of the boat and continue the hunt on foot. Remember, winter’s early morning superlow tides means redfish won’t tolerate a flats boat roaring up with baits being chunked at them like hand grenades.

 

          We parked the boat about a hundred yards from the nearest trough of water running through a couple of oyster bars and eased over the side of Thom’s Action Craft. It was slow going. The bottom was firm, but only after sinking nearly  a foot deep in the eelgrass and sloppy muck. So, we took our time and eased forward carefully.

Petrella/Low and Slow/pg. 2

 

          Thom was throwing an Exude R/T and had the first hookup. And the second. “Sure you want to keep throwing those flies?” I just grinned back and dug into my fly box for something new. I’d started off with my very favorite redfish fly, the Copper Commissioner. It’s tied on a size 4 hook, 2XL shank, with a copper braided tubing body, red-and-black lead eyes, and a gold Krystal Flash wing. Over the years, it’s caught hundreds of reds, snook, trout, heck—just about everything.

 

          But, not today.

 

          So, I changed to an all-gold Commissioner Johnson fly. Still nothing. Then an all-silver fly in the same style. Same results. I stood there, watching Thom cast and wondered what Kate would do in a situation like this. My wife has been fly fishing for 25 years, and she’s pretty darn good at it. Catches lots of fish, too, because she’s not afraid to constantly change patterns and tactics. 

 

          I opened one fly box. Nope, just more of the same. Reaching into another pocket, I pulled out a box of floating minnows that Bill Sherer tied for me. Great fly. Wrong for today. Finally, I decided on the pattern that produced my first “Inshore Slam” years ago while fishing with my “brother” Capt. Dave Gibson of Ft. Myers. It’s got a silver tubing body, red-and-black lead eyes, white bucktail belly, a few “flash” fibers over the back topped with chartreuse bucktail, and a barred grizzly hackle feather on each side.

 

          As I eased closer to the deeper water of the pothole, I decided that I had been using springtime techniques for wintertime fish and it simply wouldn’t do the job. When I made my next cast, I let it sink down to the grass on the edge of the pothole. Then I made a very short, very slow strip with my line hand. The fly “crawled” maybe three inches. I stopped completely for for a couple of seconds and repeated the retrieve. During the third strip the fly stopped and I pulled back with my line hand. Hard.

 

          I thought for a second that I’d hooked the ellgrass. Except I’ve never seen grass roar off and bend an 8-weight fly rod like this. “Fish on,” I said to Thom. In fact, I said it more than a dozen more times before he simply couldn’t take it any longer.

 

          “What color are you using?” he yelled. I told him to try something that resembled a smallish whitebait, and to fish it very slowly. We both caught redfish for the better part of another hour before the wind picked up and the temperature dropped another couple of degrees.

 

 

 

Petrella/low and slow/pg. 3

 

 

          “Hey, you Yankees might think this weather is okay, but this Florida Cracker is getting cold. Let’s go,” Thom called out. Since I had experienced what most folks might consider a “career day”, I was ready to quit, too.

 

          Besides, I still had that long slog through the muck back to the boat to deal with. My wade back was as “low and slow” as my retrieves had been. But they both were worth the effort.

 

 

Capt. Tony Petrella formerly was a sportswriter for the Palm Beach Post and Atlanta Constitution. He guides fly and spin anglers half the year out of Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters in Nokomis, FL, and fly anglers out of The Fly Factory in Grayling, MI, the other half. He can be reached at 941-496-4289 or tightloops@peoplepc.com. Web site is www.tightloopsflyfishing.com.