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Venice - Snook Alley - March 18th, 2008
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
80 °
FISHING: Excellent
MARCH 18, 2008
FLORIDA
Brothers, sisters, in-laws, outlaws, even babes-in-arms trooped down to the boat ramp at Higel Park on the Island of Venice Saturday morning.
All to watch “Dad” (Dave Harnett) get the surprise of his 60-year-old life!
“Hey, Doc,” I yelled, while casually leaning back on the console seat of my Hewes Redfisher 18, with my feet propped up on the casting deck. “You wanna go fishing?”
Naturally, he looked around at everyone. Puzzled by the question. “But in my head, just before you said that, I was thinking to myself—there’s a charter captain waiting for his client,” Dave told me later.
“Sure you do!” I continued. “Because I’m your birthday present. Well, not ME, really. The boat. C’mon. Let’s go fishin’.” At which point everyone broke out in a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday.”
Dave dutifully hopped on board along with his youngest child, Matt (who had booked the trip), and eldest child, Trevor (there are two sisters separating them) and off we went.
Nearly five hours later, they were back at the dock with tired arms and happy smiles. It was mercifully one of those no-brainer days in the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) around Venice.
Without the need to exaggerate one iota I can tell you that the three of them boated 70 fish (“I’d says more like 75,” Matt proclaimed), mostly using the jigs I’d tied using my “Champagne Gobi” fly pattern. You can look it up on the Photo Gallery and New Fly Pattern dropdowns.
But it was such a crazy day that Matt kept hooking fish (they were mostly all ladyfish) even when the jig he was using had been shredded to the point where it was a bare hook.
“They even chewed the red paint off the head,” Matt crowed. “Man, this is unbelievable! I’ve NEVER had a day of fishing like this!”
Ah, the words a guide loves to hear. Especially since Matt continued, “since Dad has the condo here (since 1979), you’ll be seeing a lot of us over the next 30 or 40 years!”
Uh-huh. MORE music to a guide’s ears!
Earlier in the week, Charlie Wells and his son, Bruce, had fun playing with spotted sea trout in Lemon Bay before Bruce had to fly off to London, where he works three weeks out of each month.
“It gets hectic sometimes,” he said, “but London’s a great place and the people are really nice. Except some of the older folks still grumble that us Canadians and you Yanks should still be part of the Empire.
“I don’t hear that from the younger people, but it amazes me to hear the 80-somethings say that.”
He also mentioned that a half-day of fishing in England costs $600USD! CRIKEY, mate! “And finding a place to fish is pretty hard even at that.”
Strong wind forced me to keep Bob Strayton and his son Rob inside Fork Creek for most of our trip the following day, but the snook and snapper co-operated nicely so everybody had a good time.
Bob had planned a trip with me last month with his son-in-law Bruce, but once I got out into Gasparilla Sound the boat was rocking like a yo-yo we went home.
Steve Sherman joined me on his fourth annual outing on Thursday. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted a shot at redfish, trout, and pompano during the day, or snook under the lights. So, we did both!
Steve, who was absolutely THRILLED to get away from the massive snowfall Syracuse has been hit with this winter, met me at 3pm and we headed to Lemon Bay.
After boating a variety of species we drove to Casey Key and dropped the boat into “Snook Alley,” where he caught a very feisty jack crevalle before getting into the snook.
Mike Thomas, who was another victim of mechanical failure (the helm on my steering failed), and then high winds the previous Sunday, brought his pal Ken Ayres along this time and they also hooked a wide variety of fish in Lemon Bay.
Sunday was a lot of fun. My Florida vet, Dean Ebert, brought his 12-year-old daughter, Natasha, in search of redfish. Dean (“I want FOOD”) grew up in Poland, Ohio, not far from my home town of Niles.
Must be that Youngstown Thing. Dean doesn’t see the logic in spending time and gasoline fishing or diving if you’re going to come home empty-handed.
“Now we’ve gotta stop at Publix before going home,” he said as we parted at the Indian Mounds ramp.
“Well, here’s what you do,” I replied. “Take Natasha into the store with you. Get the fish out of the case and toss it to her. That way, when you get home you can truthfully say yep—she caught it.”
Natasha giggled. Dean just smiled.
ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE
Heart celebrated his nine-month “birthday” last week. MAN did he celebrate. Of course, that’s really nothing unique.
He bounces off the walls. He jumps over my comfy chair-and-ottoman. He even has been seen using the living room coffee table as a launching pad onto the futon.
Ghost, who I had feared would have long-since shredded this interloper, mostly takes it all in stride. Occasionally, she gets exasperated and head-butts him the way she did when he was a mere pup.
But the FUNNIEST thing is when Heart grabs a sofa pillow or something and Kate tells her, “Ghost! Get him!” At which point she runs over and glares at Heart until he abashedly drops whatever contraband he’s been illegally chewing.
Then she either menaces him for a few seconds, or chases him around the house until he drops onto the carpet and rolls over onto his back.
What makes it particularly hilarious is the fact that he’s now taller and heavier than she is. He even jumps clear over her back when they’re tussling in the back yard. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how long this routine continues.
But those of you who know Ghost are aware that she’ll never back down. Ever.
Well, I’ve got to tie some flies and jigs for tonight’s snook trip.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 9th, 2007
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
86 °
FISHING: Excellent
June 9, 2007
“WAHH, WAHH, WAAAHHH!”
It’s Tarpon Time, and charter captains throughout southwest Florida hear that sort of whining and wailing just about every morning because:
A) The fish are shooting craps and eating crabs at Poontangle Inn. Which is approximately 80 nautical miles from wherever the boat’s anchored.
B) The fish are streaming by at a steady pace—hundreds of them—except they’re all about forty feet beyond casting range.
C) The fish are blowing up right next to the boat but refusing every fly, lure, jig, or crab known to man, woman, and child.
D) The wind is blowing the boat in circles so it’s impossible to stand on the casting deck and the angler’s so dizzy he/she couldn’t hit a barn door let alone a tarpon.
E) The “Whammy” is on you like that legendary black cloud that always hovered over the head of Joe BLXFPT in the long-forgotten L’il Abner cartoon strip.
Never heard of old Joe? Then maybe you met Gary Anderson (or a guy just like him) somewhere during your fishing adventures.
You know the guy I’m talking about. The original Hard Luck Kid:
Drops his worm can into the water five minutes after getting to the crick.
Breaks his brand new rod—the only one he has on the trip—while getting ready to fish.
Throws a gigantic tangle of monofilament around his reel, or gets his fly line chewed up in the trolling motor prop while making his first cast.
Or, like poor Gary, is just one plumb unlucky guy.
Of course, Gary’s gotta shoulder a bit of the blame. See, his first mistake was staying up WAYYYY too late the night before our first day on the Gulf of Mexico.
His second mistake was gulping down a large portion of semi-edible fast-food just before bedtime.
His third mistake was sharing a flats skiff (mine) with Jon Witboom, who owns Flymasters of Indianapolis, and his old army pal, Rich Castle, from Texas.
They had spent the previous morning with me on a peaceful stretch of the Myakka River, where we were presented with numerous shots at juvenile tarpon. None of them were willing to eat a fly, however, so we left.
Ultimately, we cruised around Lemon Bay for a while. A couple of tiny snook were rash enough to double-up on Gary and Rich, and moments later Jon boated a feisty ladyfish.
Not a sterling day, all things considered. But the wind had been absolutely CHURNING the Gulf and the only people who were ecstatic about being out there that day were the surfer boys & gals.
That was on Monday. Tuesday’s wind was calmer. Sort of.
Heading north out of the Venice Jetty, my Hewes Redfisher 18 was skimming the wave tops at a leisurely 18mph. Jon was leaning back comfortably on the center console seat. Rich was whistling something I could barely hear.
Gary was white as my deck.
I didn’t know that, however, until I finally pulled the boat off plane and started dishing out rods.
One to Jon. Who started getting ready for battle.
One to Gary. Who took the rod, looked at the slow rollers that were gently rocking the boat, handed the rod to Rich, promptly rolled halfway off the starboard gunwale and was quietly sick.
Very, very sick.
In fact, Gary was not a participant in the morning’s activity as several pods of tarpon cruised within shooting range. Finally, I suggested that it might be wise to get Gary back to the Venice Holiday Inn while Jon and Rich stayed with the boat.
Which, of course, effectively ended our morning of tarpon fishing.
Gary still had the Do Not Disturb sign on the door when we got back in mid-afternoon, and we ultimately determined that a touch of food poisoning might have abetted his troubles that morning.
That was Wednesday.
Thursday found a bit more chop on the water, but since Gary hadn’t even THOUGHT about food the previous evening, we were able to concentrate of spotting fish.
And yes, there were fish. Unfortunately, poor Gary had that black cloud hanging over his head.
Jon was on the bow. Rich was midships, spotting, and Gary was on the port side stern leaning against the poling platform. We had been seeing a lot of tarpon, and some were cruising just below the surface.
“Gary, cast that crab pattern out and let it float around. Jon, get your fly in the ‘ready-position’ in case fish pop up,” I told them. Minutes later, Rich and I stared at a very healthy 125-pound tarpon that flashed up from below the boat and sucked in Gary’s crab.
Except Gary was momentarily preoccupied plucking a knot out of his fly line—or something—and never saw the fish inhale the fly. Predictably, like a man mistakenly putting a wax grape into his mouth, the tarpon disgustedly spat out the fly and swam away.
“Why didn’t you set the hook?” Rich asked.
“Why?” Gary replied.
“Because a very nice tarpon just swam away unmolested when you didn’t set the hook,” I said.
“I never saw him. I didn’t know. I just…” WAHH, WAHH, WAAAHHH.
Obviously, there was no way Jon or Rich or I was going to let Gary off easy. So, we kept up the banter until a very large tarpon attempted to eat my boat.
Well, that might be a SLIGHT exaggeration. But not much.
“Hit him, Jon,” I yelled, and he flipped his fly over the side. “Too far left. Lead him to the right, Jon.”
Which Jon attempted. Except Gary was now so pumped full of adrenaline that he also smashed his rod off to the right and it sounded like a sword fight in progress “click, clack, click”.
By the time the tangled fly lines were plucked apart, the second tarpon that should have been in the boat had swum off to Sarasota or Tampa or Corpus Christi.
But tomorrow is a new day and hordes of tarpon are out there off Casey Key and Rob Adrian’s in from Arizona.
Film at 11!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - April 15th, 2007
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
62 °
FISHING: Great
APRIL 14, 2007
I had a great time yesterday! Again!
Bill Brindel and his buddy, Al Parillo, are down from upstate New York for a week and decided to take a half-day charter. What a hoot!
Bill’s an electrical contractor with a dry sense of humor that sometimes made me do a double-take. And Al’s a Sicilian who makes gloves for the US military and loves my Guisseppe & Luigi jokes. What could be better than that?
Catching fish? Yeah, we (they) did plenty of THAT, too. Al really laid it on (and I got in a couple of funny shots, too) when Bill landed a two-inch snapper and a four-inch lizardfish. They both got into a bunch of healthy ladyfish, though.
Unfortunately, the redfish we saw were pretty spooky and wouldn’t eat.
I took John De Muth, his son, John, and his son-in-law, Mark, on a real excursion Thursday morning. We started off looking for reds (zip), went up to Grassy for Spanish (more zip!), and finally worked back inside where they landed a lot of trout and ladies and some lizards.
Nice guys. Lots of laughs.
The night before, Brad Hardin and HIS son-in-law joined me for night snook. Lots of fish. Several hookups. No Kodak Moments! It’s just been that kind of wacky season under the lights. A total flip-flop from last year.
Earlier in the week,Dean Morton, his dad Chuck, and HIS brother-in-law, Ray Larned spent the day with me and we had a ball. Laughed all day.
Ironically, I grew up in Niles, Ohio. They grew up in Niles, Michigan. The same small town only in different states. Know what I mean?
Dean lives in Boulder now, working in the computer biz. Chuck, who’s been coming down to Venice with his family for nearly 40 years, still lives in Niles. “Never been anyplace else,” he said, “except for my time in service.”
Ray, who dabbled as an outfielder and pitcher at Western Michigan for a couple of years, eventually got a degree in education and just retired from the Saline (MI) School District.
OK. So much for the background bios.
Bottom line: We went outside and didn’t find any mackerel that wanted to play. And I mean to tell you I marked HUNDREDS of fish on the Garmin 172C!
Feeling somewhat miffed, we motored back inside the Venice Jetty and went looking for redfish. Nope.
OK. I can take a hint.
Off we went toward Little Sarasota Bay.
No, it did not disappoint us.
Dean caught the first fish. And the second. Maybe even the third. Yeah, I’m pretty positive he caught the third one, too, because about that time he started jabbing Old Dad pretty good. And I helped.
Ray caught a couple of fish about that time, and he and Dean really started unloading on Old Dad. And I helped.
Actually, it got to the point where I kept changing Chuck’s jig in the hope he’d finally land a fish. He did. A lizardfish. About 4 inches long.
It flopped back into the water before I could get a photo, but I DID snap one when Chuck was unhooking another “lizard” maybe 5 inches long.
“Did you catch that fish or snag it?” Dean yelled. Ray laughed. I took pictures. Chuck swore at me. He was just kidding, though. I think.
Actually, the fellas did a pretty good job of catching some decent spotted sea trout and a few hefty ladyfish before the phone rang. It was Capt. Mark.
He’d finished his morning trip and was back home watching the weather channel. and called to tell me there was a band of heavy weather moving through Sarasota.
Thanks, Mark!
We fished a bit longer and got a few more fish on the jigs I’d tied. They have a white head, two white hackle feathers on each side, and some pearl estaz for the “body.”
I tie the same pattern, but add some olive Polar Fiber for going “outside” after Spanish, Kings, and bonito. It’s merely a spin-fishing adaptation of the flies I tie.
Anyway, we caught a few more fish and the phone rang again. Kate.
“This is weather-central with an update,” she said. “You’re gonna get dumped on within 30 minutes.”
OK. “Let’s fish one more drift,” I said. Then the raindrops started falling on our heads and I pulled the plug.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - April 10th, 2007
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
66 °
FISHING: Great
APRIL 10, 2007
I had a great time yesterday!
Dean Morton, his dad Chuck, and HIS brother-in-law, Ray Larned spent the day with me and we had a ball. Laughed all day.
Ironically, I grew up in Niles, Ohio. They grew up in Niles, Michigan. The same small town only in different states. Know what I mean?
Dean lives in Boulder now, working in the computer biz. Chuck, who’s been coming down to Venice with his family for nearly 40 years, still lives in Niles. “Never been anyplace else,” he said, “except for my time in service.”
Ray, who dabbled as an outfielder and pitcher at Western Michigan for a couple of years, eventually got a degree in education and just retired from the Saline (MI) School District.
OK. So much for the background bios.
Bottom line: We went outside and didn’t find any mackerel that wanted to play. And I mean to tell you I marked HUNDREDS of fish on the Garmin 172C!
Feeling somewhat miffed, we motored back inside the Venice Jetty and went looking for redfish. Nope.
OK. I can take a hint.
Off we went toward Little Sarasota Bay.
No, it did not disappoint us.
Dean caught the first fish. And the second. Maybe even the third. Yeah, I’m pretty positive he caught the third one, too, because about that time he started jabbing Old Dad pretty good. And I helped.
Ray caught a couple of fish about that time, and he and Dean really started unloading on Old Dad. And I helped.
Actually, it got to the point where I kept changing Chuck’s jig in the hope he’d finally land a fish. He did. A lizardfish. About 4 inches long.
It flopped back into the water before I could get a photo, but I DID snap one when Chuck was unhooking another “lizard” maybe 5 inches long.
“Did you catch that fish or snag it?” Dean yelled. Ray laughed. I took pictures. Chuck swore at me. He was just kidding, though. I think.
Actually, the fellas did a pretty good job of catching some decent spotted sea trout and a few hefty ladyfish before the phone rang. It was Capt. Mark.
He’d finished his morning trip and was back home watching the weather channel. and called to tell me there was a band of heavy weather moving through Sarasota.
Thanks, Mark!
We fished a bit longer and got a few more fish on the jigs I’d tied. They have a white head, two white hackle feathers on each side, and some pearl estaz for the “body.”
I tie the same pattern, but add some olive Polar Fiber for going “outside” after Spanish, Kings, and bonito. It’s merely a spin-fishing adaptation of the flies I tie.
Anyway, we caught a few more fish and the phone rang again. Kate.
“This is weather-central with an update,” she said. “You’re gonna get dumped on within 30 minutes.”
OK. “Let’s fish one more drift,” I said. Then the raindrops started falling on our heads and I pulled the plug.
Dang iff’n it hain’t been a-rainin’ ever since! In fact, I called Buck Levy—who was supposed to fish night-snook with me this evening—and told him to forget driving up from Captiva. Good thing. It’s 5:15 and still raining. And a couple of hours ago it was as black as night outside, and the rain was coming down summertime-hard.
Next time, Buck. Next time!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - March 24th, 2007
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
80 °
FISHING: Great
MARCH 24, 2007
Where, oh, WHERE are the baitfish?
That, my friends is the million-dollar question! Once it’s answered, holy hell is going to break loose on the nearshore Gulf of Mexico.
You see, we are absolutely loaded up with Spanish mackerel out there in 25 to 30 feet of water. They’re hugging the bottom, and thrashing around, and generally in a bad frame of mind.
Why?
Because the huge schools of baitfish that will (soon, I hope) turn the water off Casey Key, Manasota Key, and Venice Beach into a churning mass of body parts are still somewhere out in the Gulf.
Consorting with foreign senoritas? Maybe down ole’ Meyhico way? Perhaps, senor! Because they’re not around here. Yet. Which is driving all of us absolutely CRAZY with anticipation.
Every morning just after dawn several of my compadres and I blast out of the Venice Jetty and fan out north to Grassy Point or south to Casperson Rocks. Our eyes are lifted skyward, praying for the telltale giveaway of gulls and terns and pelicans smashing the water in a frenzied feast.
With but few exceptions—like the day I took the Brothers Ragone, Dominic and John, to The Rocks—we just haven’t had a full-blown Mac Attack.
For those of you who don’t catch the lingo, allow me to explain. Have you ever been on the bad end of a mortar attack? How ‘bout just a boyhood snowball fight when you were “It” and half the known world was “Them?”
Maybe something as simple as getting caught between the Sno-Cone truck and 79 third-graders from PS 122 on the last day of school.
Understand what I’m saying here? A Mac Attack is to be taken seriously. Verrrrrry seriously.
You guys from Up East know what I mean. The Bluefish Blitz? Sure, that’s it. That’s what we’ve been waiting for.
In other words, all-out war. Baitfish being slaughtered by the thousands by Spanish and King mackerel and Little Tunny while the birds gorge on the remains and anglers revel in the hookups.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about” John Ragone said that morning two weeks ago. I was trying to keep the brand new Redfisher 18 from nudging The Rocks just off the beach when John hooked up.
Then he hooked up again. And again. “Dom! Still wanna keep usin’ that fly rod? I’m already up on ya three-zip.” Dominic grunted and made a longer case.
“Make that four-zip, brother!”
Dominic finally got on the board, though, and then we headed inside for a looksee at reds and trout and ladyfish.
By the way. I haven’t Snope-d this, but I heard the fast-food joints now are using ladyfish for their fish sandwiches. A guy told me somebody found a way to pressure-cook the meat away from the bones. Then they shape it into a fish-stick and serve it up with tartar sauce and a side of pickle.
Anybody else heard that?
Geeze. I hope they don’t decimate the population of A Guide’s Best Friend. Lord knows, those Leapin’ Lenas saved my bacon a couple times just in the past week!
The Brothers Elsener (George and Jim) were down from Chicago and that certainly was the case. Ditto for Rod Hamilton and his wife, Kim Kompetitive.
In each case, we were zip-for-the-morning on Spanish, but look-out-brother on ladyfish. Kim was a real hoot.
“Got another one! Oh, god^%#@ it got away. Am I allowed to say that? It’s not very ladylike, is it?”
Well, it’s certainly “ladyfish-like.”
John Courtemanche and his son, Rod, fared a little better. Rod, at least, managed to dredge up a couple of Spanish before we tucked back inside and nailed some trout and ladies.
Jamie Lynch and his dad, Jack, had a non-stop morning in Little Sarasota Bay. Too bad Jamie’s 9-year-old daughter, Katie, decided to sleep in.
Especially when Our Favorite Dolphin—Freddie The Freeloader—came calling when we were idling near the Albee Bridge. “I’ve gotta get some pictures,” Jamie yelped. “She’ll really be upset that she didn’t see THIS.”
Jamie and Jack are both engineers from Pennsylvania. At least Jack WAS before retiring and moving to Gettysburg because of his infatuation with the American Civil War.
“After the second time my wife asked me what I was going to do the rest of the day and it was only 9:30 in the morning,” Jack said, “I went down and became a guide. I absolutely LOVE it.”
Jamie was still taking calls for pending construction projects, even as we were tooling our way home. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s OK, I replied. YOU keep working so then down the road I’LL keep working!”
Don Peterson was down—also from Pennsylvania—visiting his longtime pal Jim Cranos, who lives on Casey Key, and we headed off the beach last Friday.
They caught a rather mixed back of snapper and blue runners but no Spanish before we went inside and Don absolutely wore out his arm landing fish.
I was teasing them about the Report I was formulating in my head. “Yep, I can see it now,” I told them. “I’ll write about how two CFOs from a couple of huge Fortune 500 companies had this $100,000 bet on the first fish.
“And Jim won with a four-inch Lane snapper!”
I THINK they thought it was funny! Eh, guys?
Mangrove Coast Fly Fishers (FFF) banquet is tonight so I’d better scoot to get there on time.
BTW—my Hewes Bayfisher 16 is for sale. It’s in GREAT shape—looks darn-near like new, and does have a new steering linkage that just was installed last week.
Lots of extras like poling platform, stainless prop, windscreen/grab-rail, and more. An absolute steal at $9,750. Call me for a test drive!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - January 1st, 2007
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
77 °
FISHING: Great
January 1, 2007
THE YEAR IN REVIEW…
Biggest news was Kate’s recovery from cancer surgery and Ghost’s recovery from a torn anterior crusciate ligament. Both had a very good year. Thank You very much, Sir!
Kate got back into the Manistee River out front of our house quite regularly, “but not nearly as often as I plan to NEXT year!!!!” she says. True. But at least she was able to fish again without becoming exhausted after 10 minutes! Yes, she caught MANY gorgeous brookies.
“But I never hooked that Big Guy down at the Deward access,” she lamented as we put the rods away. Next year, Big Red. Next year.
Ghost was sidelined for several days during the past bird season because of leg muscle pulls and a hole in her left eye from a blackberry thorn.
PLEASE MAKE A NOTE OF THIS if you’re an upland hunter. The canine ophthalmologist—who’s also an avid bird hunter—told me to rub Vaseline around the outside of her eyelids before letting her hunt. He said the thorns catch the dog’s skin and open the eyelids wider, making them more susceptible to getting poked. The Vaseline lets the thorns slip off the skin and helps prevent the punctures.
We finished the bird season averaging just under 6.5 flushes per hour, and saw 114 grouse and exactly 250 woodcock!
CHRISTMAS WEEK FISHING REPORT
I was booked solid—and that’s a GOOD thing. Just ask Kate!
We chased Little tunny (false albacore) in the early mornings, redfish and baby tarpon in mid-day, and snook at night. And, of course, we caught ladyfish morning, noon and night!
Ron Povinelli and his wife, Cheryl, fished with me one morning and again at night for snook, and caught a BUNCH of fish. Ron’s an excellent spin-fisherman from Indianapolis who first fished with me last year when he gave his father, Sam, a 91st-birthday present.
Sam subsequently hired me as a birthday present for his wife, Rose’s 86th birthday present! What a day THAT was, with Rose’s 82-year-old sister, Jeannette, joining us in Charlotte Harbor!
Anyway, Ron and Cheryl got into a bunch of fish. Same for Britons Bob Shorthouse and Jerry Setter, who were vacationing here from Merry Ole England.
We ran outside the Venice Jetty looking for ablies, but there just wasn’t any action. After poking around inside Dona Bay a while, I headed north and they got into myriad fish. A couple of “doubles,” and mostly non-stop action.
Rob Schumm, of Evanston, IL, also had a banner day on ladyfish last Wednesday afternoon. The all-white jigs I tie, with two hackle feathers on either side of the pearl estaz, was quite the rage up around Blackburn Point .
Tom Spence was still talking about that albie he caught the previous week (a 9-pounder that got into his backing within 15 seconds, and took nearly a half-hour to bring to the boat) when he stepped aboard with wife Cindy and daughter Natalie for a sightseeing tour Friday morning.
The weather was spectacular, so we cruised north from the ramp on Casey Key with side trips into the many coves so that Cindy could look at all of the varied architectural styles of the houses. We finally turned around after passing under the Siesta Key Bridge just south of Sarasota.
That night, after a brief rest, I squired Tom around in search of snook. Unfortunately, the only cooperative fish managed to throw the hook. One of them was a dandy, though. Tom hooked it in a little backwater I know that holds a nice population of wintertime snook, including a couple of large fish like the one he hooked on a size 8 glass minnow.
“that’s an awfully small fly,” Tom had said as I tied it onto some 16-pound fluorocarbon bite-tippet. “Yep,” I replied. “But sometimes when we match the hatch, it involves small flies like this one.”
About two casts later, Tom was hooked up. “Wow!” he yelled as he reeled in his line, “that fish didn’t even know he was hooked at first. But he sure made up for it once he realized he had metal in his mouth!”
We had drizzly rain this morning, with a prediction of possible thunderstorms for this evening and possibly tomorrow. But it’s going to hit 80 again by Wednesday.
What’s in YOUR fishing forecast?
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - December 15th, 2006
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
74 °
FISHING: Excellent
December 15, 2006
PHENOMENAL is the only word I can use to describe the fishing off the Venice/Nokomis coastline right now!
The first bit of excitement last Wednesday happened when we saw large King mackerel leaping out of the water all around the boat!
Since this was a “scouting trip” with Kevin Cooke, of Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters, and Mark Phelps, I was standing on the pointy end of the boat holding a fly rod. Which is a very unusual occurrence for me.
Suddenly, Kevin yelled in alarm, “It’s a HUGE King! He’s jumping into the boat!” Mark stuttered a little bit and I think he might even have used the first profane word I’d ever heard him utter. I made the cast. “Got him,” I said smugly.
“Lost him,” I said sadly five seconds later, and stripped in a line and leader minus a fly at the end of the 30-pound bite tippet. “You want some wire? I’ve got wire. Do you want some? Wire?” I finally calmed Mark enough to reply that yes, a fly tied onto some wire would be a fine thing, thank you.
In a few moments I had a close encounter with one other King, but the affair was brief and we went our separate ways with only passing regret. See, I can say that NOW because we almost immediately were swarmed with Spanish mackerel.
And birds. Did I mention the birds? No? Well, there were hundreds of them dive bombing the water and generally creating a rather severe casting problem. Fortunately, there were so many Spanish that finding a pod devoid of birds feeding on the chopped-up baitfish wasn’t an issue.
Suddenly, the Mac Attack ended. The birds went away, and eventually we did, too. South of the Venice jetty we saw more birds. Some were slashing at the water practically on the beach. Others were launching their attacks at pods of fish everywhere we looked.
Only this time is was Little Tunny (or False Albacore, as they’re also known) that were turning thousands of glass minnows into an oily chum slick.
Thousands of Albacore, my friends! Yes, thousands. They were everywhere in a feeding frenzy that turned the inshore Gulf of Mexico into a boiling, churning mess of fish-parts.
That was the good news. The bad news was that Mark and I had to leave to meet our charter clients for the day. He had an 81-year-old man and his daughter—neither of whom had ever fished before. For anything. Ever. They did meet us at the dock with a huge cooler filled with sandwiches.
My clients met me in Englewood to chase redfish in Lemon Bay. They hadn’t wanted to get up early to chase Albies and mackerel. So, we chased redfish. And chased. And chased. And chased.
Let’s just say that the second portion of my day was more of a boat ride where two anglers got to practice their casting and one Captain got to fiddle with the Garmin 172C on his new Redfisher 18.
And Mark ate well.
Oh, yes. Kevin did hook an eight-pounder that thrashed and circled the boat and sounded and caused both of us to be late for our charters. Albies are like that.
Come see for yourself some time.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - December 4th, 2006
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
70 °
FISHING: Excellent
December 4, 2006
WHEW!!!!
It certainly has been a whirlwind since Kate, Ghost, and I got back to Venice on November 22!
The trip down from Michigan was, thank God, uneventful. Each of the past two seasons was wrought with mishaps, so a smooth ride down was very welcome indeed.
Anyway, we got in about 5pm on Tuesday. The following morning I was at Ingman Marine in Sarasota to take delivery of a 2007 Hewes Redfisher 18. We had spent a considerable amount of time on measurements to ensure the whole package would A): make it through the garage door and B): allow the garage door to close.
All of this resulted in a custom-built trailer with a pull-out tongue, and a narrower trailer body than normal. Which was good. EXCEPT. As I stood out in the back lot looking over the boat before handing over that VERY considerable check, it suddenly dawned on me that this boat was WAY taller than my old Bayfisher.
“Um, Mike, “ I said to general manager Mike Brimer, “I think we might have a problem here!” Off we went in search of tape measure (Mike) and cell phone (me). “Kate,” I said, sorta tentatively, “would you go measure the height of the garage door opening?” Silence.
“I’m not liking the sound of this,” was the reply from She Who Must Be Obeyed. “Wait one.”
I waited.
Click.
“Floor to garage door is 83 inches,” Kate said. “Good luck.”
By the time I got back to the boat, Mike was standing at the poling platform with tape in hand. “Looks like 86 inches,” he said. Then I told him it was three too high and he blanched. Whipping out his cell phone, he called the Port Charlotte store and explained the problem. “He’s on his way,” Mike said, and flipped his phone shut.
At Ingman Marine’s shop in Port Charlotte, on hard concrete, the news was even worse. “It‘s 89 inches,” the technician intoned. “We’ve got serious trouble here.”
The first thought was to re-drill and lower the metal guide plates. Two drill bits later, the new plan was to spread the bunks as wide as possible and see where we ended up. The tape showed 84 inches and everybody gulped. Hard.
“Let’s drop the tires down by one size,” said Jordan Brimer, Mike’s brother. It was done and we were at 83 inches on the button. GULP!
“We can spread the bunks just a little bit more,” Dave, the technician, said. When it was done, the tape showed 82 ½ inches. YOW!
The following day, which happened to be Thanksgiving Day, by the way, I dropped the boat into the water at the Venice Train Depot ramp and went through several hours of “break-in” for the new Yamaha 115hp four-stroke. Up and down the Intracoastal Waterway I went, following the recommended specs and the posted speed zones.
The next day, bright and early, Darrel Kratt and his Dad, Gene, hopped aboard for a guide trip. We ran outside looking for King mackerel and Spanish mackerel, but there just wasn’t anything happening.
So, we popped back inside the Venice jetty and headed for Dona Bay and some redfish, trout, and maybe a snook or two. All was well until I hopped forward to drop down the trolling motor only to learn that it had been mounted too far back and the shaft wouldn’t clear the gunwale!
I also already had learned that the throttle wouldn’t hold speed, but crept back down when I let go, which made trimming the boat difficult.
And, at the end of the day, I realized that we hadn’t adjusted the winch assembly after spreading the bunks. Which meant I had to fiddle with the boat before it was properly secured.
Back to Ingman.
Next day, all was well. Except when Admiral Parker and I went out looking for albacore I realized that my shiny new Garmin 172C wasn’t giving me water temp or depth, nor a few other things. A quick phone call to Mike revealed that “there’s another card you need for all that. I didn’t think you wanted to spend the extra money for it, so it wasn’t installed.”
Back to Ingman.
So, now we have a spiffy new boat, motor, trailer, and multi-function GPS waiting for all of you to come catch a bunch of fish like the Kratts did once we got back inside.
In fact, Gene hooked up first on a very respectable jac crevalle that took him up, down, and sideways. Once he finally managed to land it, he was darn near trembling. “WOW,” he yelled, “that’s the biggest fish I ever caught!”
Son Darrel, whom I’d met at the fly fishing show in Chicago last January, admired dad’s fish with grim determination. It wasn’t long before they both were into fish after fish after fish.
By the time we pulled back into the ramp area at Casey Key, Dad was exhausted and Darrel was ecstatic. “Thanks,” he said, “it was a great trip. My Dad had a blast!”
The albies are still around, and it’s rumored that tripletail and cobia are going to show up verrrrrrrry soon! I still have a tremendous package rate at the Venice Holiday Inn, so I can save you a bundle on lodging if you’ve got a hankerin’ to head on down for some fishing!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - May 10th, 2006
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
86 °
FISHING: Excellent
May 10, 2006
OVERVIEW
Tarpon are EVERYWHERE in southwest Florida!
Hendricksons and black caddis are EVERYWHERE on the Manistee and AuSable rivers in Michigan! Check out www.freep.com to read the article Eric Sharp wrote about our fishing trip May 3, and to look at the really neat video that photographer Dave Gilkey put together.
While you’re in a “reading frame of mind,” check out the July issue (on newsstands now) of Fly Fisherman Magazine. I have an article beginning on page 16 that details the tragic contamination of groundwater that threatens to KILL both the Manistee and AuSable.
Oil and gas leaks and spills in Otsego County, where both rivers originate, has created an enormous plume of contaminated water that has already polluted residential drinking wells, and is moving toward the Manistee at the rate of six inches per day.
And the “solution” offered by Merit Energy, and supported by the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality (HAH! What a laugher THAT title is! They should more properly be called the Michigan Department of Energy Extraction Enhancement, because they CERTAINLY aren’t concerned with Environmental Quality!!!!) is to pump the “treated” water into the AuSable River aquifer. Yep, you read that right.
E-me for more details on this potentially catastrophic situation, and I’ll tell you how to join the fight to save these two great rivers.
On a happier note, the late-summer hunt tests in Michigan finally are set to be held near Clare on July 15, August 19, and September 16. E-me to reserve a spot for you and your dog, because these are fun events where EVERYBODY has a good time.
FLORIDA
As stated, we’re seeing a tremendous number of tarpon all along the southwest coast. My “little brother” Dave Gibson reports plenty of fish down in lower Charlotte Harbor, Capt. John has been jumping fish out of Gasparilla, near Englewood, and Capt. Mark called an hour ago to say he landed two on flies off Venice.
I called him back just now and they had another one on—“Gotta go,” he said. “Call you later!” Ahh, what sweet words for a Captain.
Personally, we ran into bad luck this week. I had Dave Phillips and his soon-to-be father-in-law, Tom Collins on the boat Monday morning but the rollers outside nearly flipped my Hewes over backwards.
Since I had an unexpected last-minute cancellation for Tuesday, I gave them the option of switching days. So, we did. Except the REST of Monday was beautiful.
Tuesday, well, that started out calm and peaceful and we started a slow crawl south toward Casperson Beach. Except we didn’t see any fish. So, we crawled further south. No fish. Finally, I decided to run the length of Manasota Key to check out Stump Pass.
And, as we ran, the wind increased, the clouds piled up and the seas became, uh, “interesting.”
By the time we got to Stump Pass, I turned the boat east, looked north and was greeted by a vision of lightning dancing across the blackened sky.
“Hmmmmm,” I thought. “This doesn’t look so good!”
We stopped momentarily to try and fish a spot that’s been good to me there in Lemon Bay, but almost immediately a few sprinkles began to fall. I revved up the 90 and we scooted to the nearby boat ramp at Indian Mounds Park, where we huddled under the pvillion while the rain started POURING down.
After an hour, the storm blew through and the sun popped back out so we fished out way back to Venice in the Intracoastal Waterway.
I certainly hope things will be better tomorrow and Friday, when I have Dave and his groomsmen for four-boat trips each day! I’ll keep you posted.
MICHIGAN
Kate, Ghost, and I rolled into Deward the afternoon of April 28, and quickly set about getting the house put back into shape. But, we certainly made time to fish The Opener on the 29th—something we haven’t done for a long time.
The weather was a bit cool, but we had to pay homage. There were plenty of bugs, and we caught fish, and then Ghost got to run (on a 30-foot lead) in the woods and life was good.
The next day, I took Chris DeVries and his pal Rick Tice down the AuSable. Briefly. It was a gorgeous day, alright—except the wind started blowing. And blowing. And blowing harder. Finally, I called Kate for a weather update. “Wind 17-to-25 all day,” she said.
After pondering this bit of news, I suggested to my relatively inexperienced charges that perhaps I should re-arrange the spotting of my truck and trailer. Instead of a full-day float from Thendara Landing to Wakely Bridge Landing, we should shorted it considerably and take out at Stephan’s Bridge Landing. Which we did.
We then drove to the Manistee River, where we spent about an hour on casting techniques before I taught them how to “fish” a river. That turned out to be a roaring success.
Not only did they smooth out a lot of wrinkles in their casting, they learned how to read a river and, to top it off, they both caught fish. In fact, Chris nailed a 14-inch brown on a cone-head sculpin that he ran through a deep trough that he and Rick both had already “worked.” His yelp of glee was what it’s all about for a guide!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - April 24th, 2006
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
86 °
FISHING: Excellent
April 24, 2006
OVERVIEW
WOW!!! Day after tomorrow I take Kate and Ghost back to Deward. Seems impossible that we’ve been down here for five months already. My, my, how the time does fly when I’m out guiding every day. But, that’s a GOOD thing.
I’ve got a trip on the AuSable next Sunday (the day after trout opener), then Kate and I are HOPING to actually fish together a time or two before I leave on May 5 to come back for tarpon season.
We have a pact, by the way. I’ll take her mushroom hunting if she promises that she won’t fall and break her leg the way she did three years ago! “One damn thing after another,” she just grumbled!
Ghost is doing great, hunting geckos nonstop in the back yard. I haven’t told her yet that she’s going back to the woods in a few days. Brother, will SHE go nuts when we pull onto Manistee River Road!!!!!
The big news in Venice right now is (holy)MACKEREL!!!!
Kings in the 40-pound class and Spaniards in the 4-pound class are EVERYWHERE slamming and slashing through the huge pods of baitfish.
The only problem we’ve experienced is the LACK of experience and knowledge of some boaters who blithely troll through the pods and immediately send the fish scurrying away.
“Waaaaaalllllllll, that’s how we do it back on the Cape in Masssssssssssachussssssets foah the blues,” is a common enough comment from the would-be fish-hawks.
Guess what, guys, “You ain’t in Kansas anymore, Toto!!” That “maought waaark on the Cape, fellas, but it’s horrible down heah!!!”
However, when left unmolested by overeager boaters, the mackerel bite has been AWESOME!!!!
We had a minor bite the first evening The Intern (Larry Warszalek) was here, and dabbled with them a bit more with Chryss Harrington and her son, Christian. But the Harringtons had a really mixed bag of snook, ladyfish, puffers, snapper, trout—nearly everything you could imagine.
Kevin Langevin and his son, Kristopher, had a wonderful time with Spanish and ladyfish (more on that in a minute), and Jeff Weaver nailed three very nice three-pound Spanish last Friday during a three-boat trip during a pastor’s convention in Sarasota. Jeff (who’s the brother-in-law of our next-door neighbor, Gary Gray—also a pastor) won the Biggest Fish prize, and narrowly came in second-place for Most Fish.
But I NEVER have seen hordes of predator/baitfish encounters like our experience with Mike Burhart on Sunday. Fish were absolutely swarming around the boat, beating the Gulf of Mexico into a froth. Mike’s from Kansas (eh, Toto!?!) now living in Durango, Colorado, and he loves to fly fish for trout on the San Juan. But THIS was a lot more than he ever expected out of his birthday present from wife Suzy.
“What a DAY,” he exclaimed. “Fish everywhere I looked, great new tips on casting (from “ahem” yr obdt srvt,) and even fish for dinner!” One of the Spanish was a bleeder that was going to be somebody’s dinner, so I figured it might as well feed Mike and Suzy instead of Flipper.
But, back to Kristopher and his dad, Kevin.
We met in the parking lot at Casey Key Angers & Outfitters at dawn’s early light, and within minutes we were “walking” through the no-wake zone south of the Albee Road bridge. We hit the Gulf running, and it wasn’t long before Kristopher was bringing Spanish mackerel into the boat.
“Look, dad, he’s HUGE,” Kristopher exclaimed. And, yes, he was.
Kevin had a blast watching his son catch fish after fish—especially after we went inside and got into a school of ladyfish north of Blackburn Point. Oh, yeah. Dad caught a catfish!
Well, I need to tie a few more flies and jigs for tomorrow’s trip with Dick Gander and his wife in Pine Island Sound. I certainly hope it isn’t as windy as the day I spent down there with The Intern earlier this month. Brother, now THAT was a tough day on the water. For both of us!
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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