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Venice - Snook Alley - February 8th, 2010
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
62 °
FISHING: Excellent
Erratic weather patterns are still a “hot” topic nationwide. Since New Year’s Day, nearly every area of the United States has been effected by colder-than-normal temperatures. Florida certainly is no exception. The good news is that those super-cooled arctic blows that caused oranges, tomatoes and fish to die throughout the state last month appear to have diminished. Mostly.Unfortunately, the Weather-Guessers do continue to forecast relatively cool day and night temps for the Tampa-to-Naples coastline for the next several days.So, anglers desperately in need of a strong “tug” should be on the water during the afternoon’s warmest part of the day.That’s what we did last week when Ron Eastman, Terry Cook, and Bill Obermire spent a couple of days with me.They had come East from Gillette, WY, for a conference in Orlando on how to rig explosive charges that take the tops off of mountains to be mined for coal. “Figured it’d do us good to spend some time fishing, too,” Ron said in his initial email to me. The weather looked pretty dicey, but we managed to catch a bunch of nice trout and ladyfish in Blackburn Bay, then got into a couple of baby tarpon the next day in the Myakka River.We had planned on doing some night snook fishing, but because of continued marginal water temperature, I decided to avoid stressing them just a little while longer in order to preserve the population.Remember that last month’s Executive Order by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission bans possession of snook until September 1, although it is legal to fish for them..Redfish and spotted sea trout were barely damaged by last month’s severe drop in water temps, and continue to provide excellent sport for anglers throughout the area. Same for the baby poons!Here’s what else has been happening around the area: TAMPA BAY/BRADENTONJim Eliason, of Discount Tackle in Bradenton, says the trout bite has been good in Terra Ceia Bay, and at the mouth of the Manatee River, on DOA and CAL jigs with shad tails.As usual, look for sheepshead around docks and bridge pilings. Use small hooks and bits of either live or frozen shrimp.Jerry Poslusny, of Rochester, NY, caught trout to 17 inches on Clouser flies in Terra Ceia. SARASOTA BAYJim Mitchell, of Longboat Key, caught trout to 16 inches at the Bird Key flats on live shrimp, and ladyfish in front of the Field Club on gold Cotee jigs. Cindy and Robert Whalen, of Ogdensburg, NY, caught ladyfish, and trout to 4 pounds on olive Cotee grubs and free-lined live shrimp.Harry Beaty and Paul Rotz, of Canada, caught nearly two dozen trout on CAL jigs with shad tails in relatively shallow water from Stephens Point to Long Bar.Meanwhile, Jim Cox and sons Mike and Jason, of IL, caught trout to 19 inches and one large redfish near dock pilings in Little Sarasota Bay. NOKOMIS/VENICERon Cordes, of ID, and Dusty Sprague, of North Port, caught trout and ladyfish near Blackburn Point on Clouser flies and intermediate-sink lines. LEMON BAY/GASPARILLA SOUND John Donohue, out of Economy Tackle, reports trout to 22 inches on a variety of jigs in the potholes throughout Lemon Bay. While inconsistent, some redfish to 28 inches have been hooked on the flats.Doug and Mike Smith, of OH, caught redfish to 32 inches and trout to 23 inches on live shrimp near Whidden’s Creek. ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE Ghost and Heart have been having a ball because of the cooler weather. Mostly, because I’ve been taking them to Dream Lakes of Florida a bit northeast of Sarasota so they can wrap their noses around quail. The “Little Guy”—who incredibly enough will be three years old in June—has been doing a fabulous job finding, pointing and retrieving birds. Heart’s field manners are excellent, and he’s just such a good natured fellow with a big grin on his face that he nearly always makes me smile, too. Ghost, who will be 13 in May, has lost some vision (that blackberry thorn in her left eye never did heal properly, even after lazer surgery). Plus, she’s either getting hard of hearing, OR selectively hard of HEEDING. Nothing wrong with her ability to sniff birds, though! I guided Bill Delaney and Frank Dunn at The Dream last week and they both got their fill of birds. Heart did most of the work—since he’s the one who needs the practice—and was hot, tired, and happy when we finally got home! IN MEMORIUMCapt. Mel Berman, renowned in southwest Florida’s angling community, died last week from complications of heart surgery. He was 81. Capt. Mel hosted a radio program out of Tampa for more than 20 years and was both a jokester and gentleman. No man could leave a better epitaph.
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Venice - Snook Alley - July 10th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
94 °
FISHING: Excellent
Despite a Busted RodMike Vallis Got His Tarpon By Capt. Tony Petrella It was seven in the morning and already pushing ninety degrees. I was anchored off Casey Key, just north of Venice, Florida, and the tarpon were starting to wake up. Personally, I was sweating like hell and regretted that I hadn’t brought more cold water. Mike Vallis and I had been up since around four, got on the water at five-thirty, and now were staring at poons popping up all around us. A couple of them were so close I even thought they were trying to eat my Hewes Redfisher. “Tarpon at six ‘o clock,” I said to Mike. He turned and in the same instant loosed a cast. The little blue crab smacked the water and within three seconds there was a tremendous thrashing and a tarpon in the hundred-pound class was tied tight to the eighty-pound bite-tippet. Then things got interesting. Mike’s from England, just south of London. He fishes pike and carp Over There, and has done a bit of billfishing. But never before tarpon. “I’m keen to catch something large,” he had told me in his email. “Not really interested in the smaller species.” So on this hot July morning within an hour we (he) was into “something large.” And strong. And angry. “Keep turning his head,” I said. “When he gets comfortable going to the right, shift the rod to the left. And always keep the tip down low. Don’t let him come up to get a gulp of air. That’ll add another thirty minutes to the fight.” “How long,” Mike asked, “does it take to land one of these tarpon?” “Well,” I replied, “until you get into the hang of it, the rough rule of thumb is a minute per pound. Of course, guys like Stu Apte and Lefty Kreh whip ‘em a lot faster than that. But your first fish probably is going to take you a while. “If you’re lucky!” He wasn’t lucky. About an hour into the slugfest I heard the sound that guides dread most. “Snap!” And there was Mike with a perplexed look on his face and the tip section of the rod gliding toward the water. What do you say in a situation like that? So, I said nothing. He managed to get the top part of the rod into his left hand and I started searching for a roll of duct tape that I always keep aboard. Nothing. It was in my garage after a different fix-em-up. But, there was some Surflon braided wire from Spanish mackerel season. “Hold the guides in position,” I said to Mike, and started wrapping. This tarpon, meanwhile, was still giving us fits. My old eyes didn’t fail me, and within less than a minute I had lashed the pieces together. Still Game On. “Ooops,” Mike said just a bit later. “It looks like we’ve come undone,” Back to the drawing board. Re-tie the wire. Add several turns of eighty-pound shock tippet with a couple of half-hitches and PRESTO! You’ve got a rod that lasted ANOTHER hour before we landed this six-foot tarpon that was about one hundred pounds! Mike was both enthralled and whipped. The tarpon, of course, was not enthralled but VERY whipped. I was simply concerned about getting a couple of pictures, reviving this magnificent fish, and maybe catching another one. I guess all of us more or less performed our assigned tasks. Except for the part about catching another one. We stayed out a few hours more and saw some, had shots at some, and wished for shots at others. A few bulged next to the boat. “No Joy” as we aircraft pilots sometimes say. Or, as Rick Pope—president of Temple Fork Outfitters fly rods likes to say—“It ain’t easy being a sportsman!” But, as Mike Villas will attest, “it sure is fun!” Tight LoopCapt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - July 7th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
88 °
FISHING: Excellent
July 7, 2009 Looks like this is the “final lap” of the ’09 season for me in Florida. I’ve got Mike Vallis from the UK on Friday, my good friend and fly-tying buddy Duane Hartz on Saturday, and perhaps Dr. Trent Mascola on Thursday if he can break away from fixing sick folks. There still are plenty of tarpon around. We had a lot of shots last week, but the fish had a bad case of lockjaw. Jim Franklin and his young son, Perry, went through a bushel of crabs with “no joy” on Thursday. Same with Ray Czapiga on flies Friday. Ray’s a recent transplant from Connecticut—sold a longtime family sausage-making business-- and fished with me earlier this season. We had a tough day then, too. One of these days, Ray, I’ll get you into a BUNCH of fish. I promise! The GOOD news is that Randy Plumlee, his son Jay, and nephew Colter had a very fine day inside on the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) Saturday morning. No tarpon, to be sure, but a varied bag of fish and plenty of them. Big trout, bigger ladyfish, lizardfish, a whole bunch of catfish, and even a flounder! They had a blast until the sun got blazing hot and the kids wore out. So, this week is the final curtain for me in south Florida this year. BINGO! That’ll bring an end to what has been the best tarpon season since 2005. I spent a lot of time on the inside this year because the rollers off the Gulf made even standing on the deck pretty difficult. But, a good guide finds “secret” spots where his people can still get into fish no matter what! The plan now is to button up the house on Sunday and head out early Monday. Stop overnight in Knoxville, then cruise into Deward Tuesday afternoon. Then it’s time to roll out the OTHER boat—Col. John Norcross’ old 24-foot Au Sable Longboat—and get on down the Manistee River between M72 and CCC Bridge. After, of course, taking Kate to several of our favorite spots on the upper river near our nice log house. I hear the caddis and Isonychia are starting to come on in big numbers. There might even be some Gray Drakes lingering because it’s been so cold. And, of course, the “Hopper Hatch” hasn’t even started yet and that’s one of the most incredible daytime fishing events you’ll ever have in Michigan. Hoppers are one of God’s greatest creations when it comes to dry fly fishing! Gosh. Tossing a 479 Finesse Series TFO will seem like a toothpick compared to the big sticks we’ve been using down here. Of course, saying “we” is really a mis-statement—since the only fishing “We” have done this season was the one day Capt. Gospo and I chased tarpon just before he left for West Yellowstone a MONTH ago! He had three grabs that day and I ended up with five, although “grabs” were all they were. We never put Silver into the air. Now he’s back on the Madison and Missouri and I’m going home to the Manistee and Au Sable. Gee, the seasons really fly by. Speaking of “fly” it’s just two months until grouse opener. Woodcock numbers were down about twenty percent last year, but grouse were solid. We averaged 6.1 points/flushes per hour last season and would have done even better if we’d used my dogs more than the “guests” who weren’t accustomed to the woods and tag alders. I’m happy to say that my bookings have been coming in steadily from past clients and my listing in Black’s Shotgunner’s Guide. HINT: If you’re an upland gunner, get with me pretty quickly to book what prime days in October still remain. Go to the LINKS dropdown (up top on the far right) for lodging information. Hope to see you soon in Michigan or Montana! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 27th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
88 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 27, 2009 I had the best of times and the worst of times this week with Al Kestern and grandsons Bradley and Mike. Al grew up in Rocky River, Ohio, not far from where I long ago was a sportswriter for the Lorain Journal. Both boys were born there, but Bradley lives here in Florida. Al moved here from Pittsburgh 10 years ago, and took a fly casting class from me in January. Ergo the Tuesday fishing trip in the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) around Venice, Nokomis and Osprey. And geeze we absolutely slayed ‘em. The boys had taken a short fly casting class from me on Monday, but things just weren’t working out with the long rod so we switched to spinning gear and they each hooked fish after fish after fish. A very good day indeed. So then Al tells me they’re going down to Everglades City for a few days and have I ever fished down there. “Yes, I’ve had an Everglades National Park (ENP) permit for five years. Fished there a lot of times.” “Can you guide us down there?” Al asks. Yes, I can. We set the trip for Thursday and I get up about 5am and pull up the radar, since I’m hearing rain falling and some boomers. The screen is filled with green and yellow and red. I go back to bed. At 7am I call Al and we reschedule for our alternate “rain day” on Friday. Big puddles in the parking lot of the Rod & Gun Club. And my buddy John Wilson had called Thursday afternoon to tell me about the rain that had gone through. “I made a good call on this one” I think to myself. So, I get Al and the boys aboard the Hewes Redfisher and off we go to one of my favorite spots. We set up for a drift and there are pushes by big fish everywhere we look. Snook and reds. However, we spent three hours out there and not one single fish ate the Gulp! Shrimp the boys were pitching. First time I’ve ever been skunked down there. Of course, there had been heavy weather the day before and more was on its way. We were running out Indian Pass toward the Gulf when I throttled back. The clouds were building, the wind had picked up and there were whitecaps outside. “Let’s tuck into this cove and get out of the wind,” I said. “I don’t like the way it looks out there.” Two drifts later I heard the thunder. “Reel up, guys,” I said. “We’re heading back toward the ramp.” My plan was to get closer to home and maybe stop and fish a couple more spots that have been good to me. Uuhuh! The clouds got bigger and blacker. More thunder. We got to the ramp at the Rod & Gun Club and I got the boat loaded. BOOM. The rain started and never stopped. It got so bad on the drive back to Venice that my flashers were on and sometimes I was at a crawl on I-75.To make matters worse, I hadn’t eaten much that day OR Thursday, and my blood-sugar levels had crashed. I had to really focus on the driving (compounded, of course, by the weather) and by the time I got home I was shaking so badly I could barely flip a light switch. That happened to me a couple of months ago, when Kate and the dogs were still down here with me, and I THOUGHT I had learned my lesson. Sorta like when I was a kid and my grandmother would yell “EAT, EAT!” Who knew how right she was! A sandwich and a lay-down was all it took to set me straight within a bit more than an hour. But it was scary stuff and the moral of this story is “Don’t Be This Dumb!” Make sure you have enough fuel in your system to keep running on all cylinders. As usual, I’m spending today and tomorrow in the Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters fly shop because I really don’t like to guide on weekends unless it’s mandatory. I’ll get some bugs tied—maybe even some trout stuff since I hope to get home not long after a tarpon trip I have booked July 10 with Mike Vallis from the UK. Speaking of which… ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE Ghost, the 12-year-old, and Heart, the eternal puppy at 2-years-old, are keeping Kate hopping. Literally. Up from her editing chair to put them into the 800-square-foot pen. Back up from her computer screen to let them in for nappy-time in their crates. Back up from the chair when there’s a whine that signals “Mom—I drank a lot of water and need to go back outside.” And so it goes. “But Heart’s showing signs of growing up,” Kate told me last night, after I’d recovered from my “crash.” “He’s getting calmer. Doesn’t leap up as much. And he’ll lay down here on the kitchen window seat and sleep. “He’s still not much of a guard dog, though. The FedX truck pulls up and he never barks. I think it’s because Ghost can’t hear very well anymore and she sleeps so soundly. She doesn’t react the way she used to, so he doesn’t have a role model to learn from that when somebody pulls up to the back door you bark like crazy. “But, he’s coming along.” Which is a very good thing. Since grouse season will only be two months away once I finally get home! I have days open for float trips on the Au Sable and Manistee rivers during the “Hopper Hatch” in late July and August, and for the beetles, crickets and ants in early September. Check your schedule. Always remember the immortal words of Sparse Gray Hackle: “The trout do not rise in Greenlawn Cemetery.” Tight Loops, Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 20th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
90 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 20, 2009 I’ll tell you all about the marvelous fishing we’ve been having in a moment. Tarpon everywhere. Big trout. Ladyfish. And “an old home week” morning. But first, I’ve gotta say the biggest news in the past two weeks—for me at least—is that a lump on my chest is not cancerous! Having gone through that whole scene with Kate five years ago, I DEFINITELY was not looking forward to an encore. I called Dr. Melinda Beth Hart, who took care of Kate, and she got me right in. Sonogram inconclusive. “Since you’re here, let’s do a biopsy. Just so we know what we’re dealing with.” “Do we really have to do this,” I say. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to, but we really should know what we’re dealing with.” Okay, I say and she jabs a needle the size of the space shuttle into me. Hurt like hell. Then she tells me “this is going to sound like a dentist’s drill” Four holes later she says “you might experience some bruising.” Right. My right tit is still as purple as an eggplant! THEN she says I need a mammogram. Uuhuh. So I get squished and squashed for about a half hour on both sides. BUT!!!!! Everything came back clean and I’m still gonna be taking you fishing and telling you very politically incorrect jokes and going grouse hunting and generally having a very fine time in This Wonderful Life. Speaking of which. This is probably the best tarpon season in the last three or maybe four. Lots of fish. Eating fish, I mean. Lots of jumps. Plenty of action and excitement. First, though, I’ve gotta tell you about Fran and Joe Roberto, and their kids Nate and Melissa. I get a phone call from Bob Wiser, who’s been working with me at Casey Key Anglers & Outfitters. “I met these people on the beach at Siesta Key,” Bob says, “and they want to book a charter. Here’s the phone number.” Humm. A 330 area code. Ohio. Where I was born and raised. So I dial and Fran answers. We chat a minute and I ask, “so where are you from in Ohio?” “Little town called Warren,” she says. “Near Youngstown.” A pause. Then I tell her “I was born in Warren. But grew up in Niles” A pause. “NO WAY!” she yells. “My husband grew up in Niles!” So, we spent a morning catching fish and talking about all the people we knew and grew up with and some like Richard Albarini (who owned THE restaurant in the area) who died. Melissa caught the most fish (she kept track) and we had a lot of laughs. Which is how it’s supposed to be. Anyway, we caught a whole bunch of fish that morning in the Intracoastal Waterway around Nokomis and Venice. The next day—my 60th birthday, by the way—I got the news that everything was clean and green! This week I got Tom Ladimir and his wife, Gladys, surrounded by a horde of tarpon on the Myakka River. Gladys was in the dreary throes or Dramamine and didn’t participate much, but Tom hooked two poons and was shocked at the number of fish around us. Yesterday my ophthalmologist, Mark Johnson, hooked his first-ever tarpon on a fly. It was a really magnificent fish, well over a hundred pounds. He set the hook hard. But kept too much pressure in his excitement and it broke off at the 20-pound class tippet. “You are immortal,” he said as we were no-waking back to the ramp. “That fish and this day will live forever in my mind.” Pretty good morning, I’d say. ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE Kate says a raccoon has been hanging around the bird feeders up at the Michigan house driving the puppy (two years old) absolutely CRAZY. “That coon comes to the feeders about 9:30 every night and Heart goes absolutely berserk! Runs the length of the (36-foot-long) porch constantly. I mean his tongue is distended when I finally get him back into the house. “Fortunately, the coon doesn’t appear rabid at this point. BUT, you might have to take extreme measures whenever you DO get back home!” Ah, yes. Home. Anybody out there interested in catching some very large brown trout on hopper flies up on the Manistee or Au Sable Rivers in Michigan during July or August? Let me know. Kate, Ghost and Heart would be VERY happy. Me too. But, I’ll stay in Florida chasing tarpon till August 1 if need be. See you soon—one place or the other! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - June 7th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED: 
85 °
FISHING: Excellent
JUNE 7, 2009
It’s been blowing and raining hard the past couple of days, but tarpon are absolutely EVERYWHERE! They’re just off the beaches of Casey Key, Venice, and Manasota Key, and they’re inside all of the creeks and rivers.
Fortunately, the forecast is for clearing skies and hardly any wind for the foreseeable future. Which means Bob Pascal and his ladyfriend Terry "should" have an enjoyable day on Tuesday. I certainly HOPE so, since he couldn’t break away from his world-famous St. Michael’s lodge in Maryland last month and generously gave the days to a mutual friend from Nokomis, Bob DeBoer.
Unfortunately, when Bob fished with me we were once again surrounded by fish with a bad case of "lockjaw."
One day later, Rande Yeager had four "grabs" with flies, but just didn’t get a solid hook-set on any. "Setting the hook on these tarpon is like setting the hook on the side of this Hewes Redfisher," I told him. "Slam the hook home with your line hand, then bang him boom-boom-boom with the rod."
His son, Brooks ("I tell everybody I named him after the finest third-baseman in the history of baseball," Rande says) made up for it the next morning, though—in spades!
We got onto the water at 6am, and in less than 15 minutes Brooks hooked a 50-pounder. Thirty minutes later he brought it to the boat and that tarpon absolutely went berserk when I reached down to lip it. Thrashing, churning and finally crashing away, it totally slimed me!
So, no Pentax Moment for posterity. Except in everybody’s mind.
Of course, things got incredibly exciting a little while later. Tarpon kept milling around everywhere. Rande and Brooks were sharing the trip with another of my regular clients, Mark Goodnight, of Charlotte NC. The anticipation level was off the charts.
Finally, Brooks grunted. "Got one," he said, and line peeled off the reel. One HUGE jump later a magnificent tarpon in the hundred-pound class was six feet out of the water and then off the line. Turns out Brooks had tightened the drag a tad too tight. BIIIIIIIING!!!
"Damn," he said, with a bit of a tremble in his voice. "I sure would have liked to keep him on just a little bit longer!" A beautiful fish, to be sure. Rande was so thrilled that Brooks got into those fish that he barely wet a line. Mark, on the other hand, was frustrated. So many fish, and no hookup.
Rande and Brooks could only spend a couple of hours that morning, and the rest of the day Mark was casting to fish that simply wouldn’t open their mouths. "I’m gonna take up GOLF," he wailed at one point. "And that boy hooked TWO!"
But, a couple of days later (when he was SUPPOSED to be back in Charlotte), he yelled from the dock where was sitting on his bucket of lures. Capt. John and I had decided to break our two-year (or was it THREE) streak of not fishing together. Our guide schedules are so conflicting that we never get a chance to share a boat ride.
This time, we each had Thursday morning open and decided we were going fishing. Sort of. We each had three "grabs" but hadn’t put any silver into the air when Mark recognized me and called out.
"Let’s go get Mark," I said. "He fishes with me a lot. Give him a bit of a freebie."
"Tell you what," John replied. "Drop me off and fish him for a while before you come to my house." I was having trolling motor issues (again—as usual) and John was going to zap an ohm meter on the various electrical items.
Poor Mark. Still dozens of fish with no hookups.
"I guess I’ve just got bad karma," he drawled.
Nope. It’s just tarpon time! Have I told you I hate fish?
ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE
Ghost—who’s 12—and Heart—who turns two on Saturday think it’s bird season!
Kate says the weather up in Michigan has been absolutely horrible. "You wouldn’t be guiding with the weather this cold," she told me AGAIN today. "I can’t imagine any brown drakes coming off with the air temps in the 30s at night and barely 50 during the day."
BRRRRRRR!
Kate said that when the dogs came in after being in the 800-square-foot pen for a couple of hours, Ghost ran right over to her cozy little nest next to baseboard heater and curled up. "I think she figured Heart would try to claim it," Kate said, "and she wasn’t having ANY of that!"
Smart dog. Of course, she always has been. Which is why she’s a legend among grouse hunters in northern Michigan. Made her first retrieve at 21 weeks old and has absolutely beaten herself up damned near every hunting season since. God, I can’t imagine the pain of losing her.
And the puppy is still ALL puppy. "He’s been going NUTS over the mourning doves," Kate said. "Gets up on his hind legs and looks out the dining room windows when he sees them at the bird feeder. Dances around on his hind legs and whines."
Yep. He’s gonna be a good one. And I’m gonna try real hard to never look down on him in comparison to Ghost. Of course, I might not have to. The boy has a nose on him. I just have to keep him in the same county.
Tight Loops,
Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - May 24th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
83 °
FISHING: Excellent
MAY 24, 2009 Tarpon season is in full swing here in southwest Florida. We’ve got migrating spawners in the 150-pound class cruising the beaches off Casey Key, Venice, Manasota Key, and Gasparilla Island. We’ve got “juvies” in the 20-to-80-pound class in the rivers. And, we’ve got very largePre-spawn snook patrolling the beaches. What a delight. Except for getting up before light. Sigh. That’s the one drawback to being a guide. Up between 3 and 4 in the morning, and then in bed about 7pm. Which is why Kate, Ghost and Heart are back in Michigan (more about them later). We’ve had some wind and rollers on the outside during the past week or so, which meant I stayed in the rivers. Where we were absolutely SURROUNDED by tarpon. I felt like George Armstrong Custer on his worst day. Tarpon, tarpon, tarpon everywhere! And I was extremely happy that Will Bouck, who lives near Grand Rapids, Michigan, boated his first tarpon ever on a black-and-purple streamer pattern. As you can see from his grin on the Featured Photo he was one very happy angler. One of the most important things Will learned during our two days together was that keeping the rod tip high on the backcast makes all the difference in the world. “Stab the sun with your rod tip,” Lefty Kreh told me many, many years ago. “Keep the tip way up in the air. Then stop the tip about six feet above the water on the forward stroke.” What I try to point out to my anglers who drive the rod tip too low with a sidearm sweeping motion is that you have to remember basic physics. (Which I regret not studying hard enough when I was in school!) You have to stop the rod tip high enough above the water surface in order to let the line travel through the air. Common sense dictates that if you drop the rod tip low to the water on your forward stroke you not only “open” the loop into a wide C-shape (destroying your line velocity), you also simply don’t give the fly line enough room to travel through. Bottom line: longer casts mean you reach fish who haven’t been spooked by the boat, the angler, the guide, or the rod swinging through the air! Which, in turn, leads to more hookups. I went through the very same evolutionary process when I started fishing salt water 14 years ago. I was a small-stream Michigan trout guy whose longest cast (with a 4-weight) was maybe 30 feet. Distance? You gotta be kidding me! But one month down here tossing lead-eye flies with an 8-weight showed me the flaws in my preparedness. Like most northern trout anglers I guide, it was a very real revelation. Now add a 12-weight rod to the equation! Anyway, Will worked and worked and worked and finally jumped (and landed) his tarpon! Gary Sibbald, from Ontario, had been down fishing with me the week before and landed a bunch of fish, including a very fat spotted sea trout. But the tarpon just wouldn’t co-operate for him, either with fly or spinning gear. Gene Kahn and Steve Nelson suffered similar frustrations—tarpon that had us absolutely surrounded and would NOT eat live crabs. Go figure! But, I keep threatening to have T-shirts printed up with a succinct phrase emblazoned across the front: “It’s Pronounced Guide Not God” Gotta get to the shop----OH, yeah! Kate’s doing great—looking for a hatch of very special flies out front of the house every afternoon. And Ghost, who turned 12 years old last week, is frisky and frolicking. She’s even bedeviling Heart, who’ll be two years old next month. They had a special event a few nights ago when a bear was lurking around the house. Kate said Ghost was roaring and Heart was walking the length of our 36-foot screened porch on his hind legs! Sure do miss them, but hey—it’s Tarpon Time! You do what you’ve gotta do. Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - March 28th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
80 °
FISHING: Excellent
MARCH 28, 2009 What a wacky week! Spanish mackerel have been elusive (to say the least). Ladyfish have been abundant (to say the least). Pompano and slot-sized trout have gratefully (to say the least) begun showing up! It basically revolves around the weather patterns, which have been unstable throughout the entire country this winter (to say the least). Just when we started to have water temps over 70 degrees, the nights got cold and the water temps plunged to the low 60s. Because of all THAT the Spanish vanished because the baitfish ran back out into the Gulf of Mexico. Heck, we STILL haven’t seen the first Little Tunny! King Mackerel allegedly are prowling around somewhere eight or nine miles offshore. Couldn’t prove it by me! We’ve been “Gamers,” though. Bill Rogers and JW (Bill) Riccardi took a drive out into the Gulf with me last Tuesday and we never saw a single mackerel. Ditto for Rande Yeager on Wednesday. Thursday I didn’t even BOTHER! I had 10-year-old (by two days!) Quinn Cunningham to get into fish (details to follow!). So Bill and JW are flailing away with their fly rods while scores of fishy images are flitting across the screen on my Garmin 172C. Will any of them EAT? Nay! We “walk around” the Gulf for a while, prospecting for those cobia that Bob Pascal hooked last Saturday, but NADA. You know what that stands for don’t you? “Not A Damned Anything!” We briefly considered poking around Shakett Creek for baby tarpon, but finally settled on Little Sarasota Bay. Where, after an agonizingly looooong period of inactivity, the fish decided to join in the fun. At least, WE thought it was fun. The Bill Boys boated fish after fish after fish—at long last. Now we’re gonna take that trip Up The Creek tomorrow morning to see what those 20-to-50-pound poons are all about! Wish us luck. The next morning found Rande and The Capt. Poking around the Gulf amid screens filled with fish that wouldn’t eat a fly to save my life. So, we pulled up stakes and headed northeast into the Intracoastal Waterway. Rande’s an experienced walleye guy from Minneapolis, and pokes around with a fly rod in the Rockies. So it was a real hoot when he landed his first-ever saltwater fish on a fly. When he landed a trout, that brought an even bigger smile. However, his third fish was a foot-long lizardfish. Which have a whole mouthful of sharp little teeth. “Want a picture of it,” I asked. Rande sorta took a half-step backwards. His eyes were fixed on all those teeth. Like a kid answering if he wanted a second helping of spinach and Brussel sprouts he shook his head and tremulously whispered “noooooooo.” I thought I was gonna bust a gut! I laughed so hard and long that my stomach hurt. The expression on his face, and the way he answered, was priceless. If ONLY I’d had a video camera rolling! Wait till I put him on a hundred-pound tarpon in May! I DEFINITELY will film THAT one. When Vern Cunningham called several weeks ago to book his trip, he told me he’d have 10-year-old Quinn and Uncle Don Kirsch with him. The plan was simple: A): Don’t let Quinn get seasick. B): Catch a BUNCH of fish. C): Catch them QUICKLY! Which, I am grateful to say, is exactly what happened. Since this was a spin-fishing trip, I outfitted the guys with the glass minnow jigs I tie, and rigged Quinn with a GULP! shrimp. And I’ll begotohell if on the very first cast when I was demonstrating to Quinn how to work the bait a ladyfish didn’t jump right on! “Here,” I said, handing him the rod. “Land this fish.” Which he did, amid much glee and Pentax Moments. It pretty much went on like that the rest of the day. “FISH ON!” was a frequently heard cry. Quinn had celebrated his 10th birthday two days prior. “If you wanna see 11, do everything I tell you,” I said. Quinn looked at Dad. Then at Uncle Don. Then at me. “That’s reassuring,” he quipped. But he listened well and caught a bunch of fish. Finally, just after Don boated a nice pompano, Quinn started lobbying for “home” and the motel swimming pool. “The pool will be there all day,” Vern said. “Let’s catch some more fish!” “Two more,” Quinn replied. “Each,” Vern countered. “Total,” Quinn said. When Vern landed an 18-inch trout we got the requisite photos, hauled in the sea anchor and headed to the ramp. “You know,” I said, “when school lets out in June those migrating tarpon that cover up the beaches out here really are a sight to behold.” Vern sorta wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. “Something to think about,” he said. So should you! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - March 28th, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
80 °
FISHING: Excellent
MARCH 28, 2009 What a wacky week! Spanish mackerel have been elusive (to say the least). Ladyfish have been abundant (to say the least). Pompano and slot-sized trout have gratefully (to say the least) begun showing up! It basically revolves around the weather patterns, which have been unstable throughout the entire country this winter (to say the least). Just when we started to have water temps over 70 degrees, the nights got cold and the water temps plunged to the low 60s. Because of all THAT the Spanish vanished because the baitfish ran back out into the Gulf of Mexico. Heck, we STILL haven’t seen the first Little Tunny! King Mackerel allegedly are prowling around somewhere eight or nine miles offshore. Couldn’t prove it by me! We’ve been “Gamers,” though. Bill Rogers and JW (Bill) Riccardi took a drive out into the Gulf with me last Tuesday and we never saw a single mackerel. Ditto for Rande Yeager on Wednesday. Thursday I didn’t even BOTHER! I had 10-year-old (by two days!) Quinn Cunningham to get into fish (details to follow!). So Bill and JW are flailing away with their fly rods while scores of fishy images are flitting across the screen on my Garmin 172C. Will any of them EAT? Nay! We “walk around” the Gulf for a while, prospecting for those cobia that Bob Pascal hooked last Saturday, but NADA. You know what that stands for don’t you? “Not A Damned Anything!” We briefly considered poking around Shakett Creek for baby tarpon, but finally settled on Little Sarasota Bay. Where, after an agonizingly looooong period of inactivity, the fish decided to join in the fun. At least, WE thought it was fun. The Bill Boys boated fish after fish after fish—at long last. Now we’re gonna take that trip Up The Creek tomorrow morning to see what those 20-to-50-pound poons are all about! Wish us luck. The next morning found Rande and The Capt. Poking around the Gulf amid screens filled with fish that wouldn’t eat a fly to save my life. So, we pulled up stakes and headed northeast into the Intracoastal Waterway. Rande’s an experienced walleye guy from Minneapolis, and pokes around with a fly rod in the Rockies. So it was a real hoot when he landed his first-ever saltwater fish on a fly. When he landed a trout, that brought an even bigger smile. However, his third fish was a foot-long lizardfish. Which have a whole mouthful of sharp little teeth. “Want a picture of it,” I asked. Rande sorta took a half-step backwards. His eyes were fixed on all those teeth. Like a kid answering if he wanted a second helping of spinach and Brussel sprouts he shook his head and tremulously whispered “noooooooo.” I thought I was gonna bust a gut! I laughed so hard and long that my stomach hurt. The expression on his face, and the way he answered, was priceless. If ONLY I’d had a video camera rolling! Wait till I put him on a hundred-pound tarpon in May! I DEFINITELY will film THAT one. When Vern Cunningham called several weeks ago to book his trip, he told me he’d have 10-year-old Quinn and Uncle Don Kirsch with him. The plan was simple: A): Don’t let Quinn get seasick. B): Catch a BUNCH of fish. C): Catch them QUICKLY! Which, I am grateful to say, is exactly what happened. Since this was a spin-fishing trip, I outfitted the guys with the glass minnow jigs I tie, and rigged Quinn with a GULP! shrimp. And I’ll begotohell if on the very first cast when I was demonstrating to Quinn how to work the bait a ladyfish didn’t jump right on! “Here,” I said, handing him the rod. “Land this fish.” Which he did, amid much glee and Pentax Moments. It pretty much went on like that the rest of the day. “FISH ON!” was a frequently heard cry. Quinn had celebrated his 10th birthday two days prior. “If you wanna see 11, do everything I tell you,” I said. Quinn looked at Dad. Then at Uncle Don. Then at me. “That’s reassuring,” he quipped. But he listened well and caught a bunch of fish. Finally, just after Don boated a nice pompano, Quinn started lobbying for “home” and the motel swimming pool. “The pool will be there all day,” Vern said. “Let’s catch some more fish!” “Two more,” Quinn replied. “Each,” Vern countered. “Total,” Quinn said. When Vern landed an 18-inch trout we got the requisite photos, hauled in the sea anchor and headed to the ramp. “You know,” I said, “when school lets out in June those migrating tarpon that cover up the beaches out here really are a sight to behold.” Vern sorta wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. “Something to think about,” he said. So should you! Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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Venice - Snook Alley - March 22nd, 2009
supplied by: Tight Loops Flyfishing
RECORDED:
78 °
FISHING: Excellent
MARCH 22, 2009
WOW! Things have been absolutely CRAZY around here this month with one guide trip after another after another. Which is a very good thing. Believe me, the butcher, baker and banker all thank you very much! The highlight, of course, was taking 94-year-old Sam Povinelli fishing again. We were originally booked for the 17th, but Sunday afternoon Sam’s son, Ron, called to tell me Sam was in the hospital. “I had to take him in at three this morning because he couldn’t breathe,” Ron said. “They had to drain fluid off his lungs. “He’s been driving me crazy. All he can talk about is going fishing and how he’s not going to miss the trip. I don’t know if they’re gonna let him out tomorrow. Can you do Thursday?” Well, anything for Sam. I mean, after all… So, I shuffled some folks around and at 8am we were chugging toward the Venice Jetty in search of “food”—which I absolutely MUST somehow produce for Sam or never hear the end of it. Well, it was one of those Spanish mackerel days. Sam and Ron caught fish within moments of the Yammie 115 shutting down. Lots of fish. “Well, the pressure’s off now,” Ron mumbled. “Now you can relax and enjoy the rest of the day.” At which point Sam immediately asked “when are we gonna catch some trout? I like to eat trout.” I looked at Ron and he rolled his eyes. “I spoke too soon,” he mumbled again. The third time Sam mentioned catching a trout, Ron and I nodded to each other and headed back inside. “I’ve been hearing that pompano have been hanging around the point of rocks at the end of the jetty,” I said. “Wanna stop for a few minutes?” Ron nodded and I was getting us positioned for our second drift when Sam’s reel started singing. Alas, it was a very sad song. I didn’t realize Sam hadn’t reeled in. Yep. You guessed it. Line wrapped around the prop. I used the trolling motor to get us into the shallows around Petersen’s Island, then Ron and I went to work getting the line free. We never did catch any pompano. But brother, did Sam and Ron catch ladyfish and trout galore! That’s the good news. Yeah, the bad news is that not one of them was at least 15 inches long. Not the ones that were boated that is. Ron had two on—in fact one was slamming the side of my Hewes like a jackhammer—that would have more than qualified for Sam’s hot skillet. Unfortunately, both came unpinned. Which surprised me, since Ron’s an excellent angler. He took it in good stride and simply shugged in resignation. Sam, on the other hand… Finally, Ron suggested heading for home. “Seven hours of fishing is probably more than Dad needed,” Ron admitted, “but he’s been yapping about this trip for two months! “Reel in, Dad. It’s time to go. We’ve gotta clean these fish for tonight’s dinner.” “No,” Sam said. “We gonna go to McDonald’s on the way home. We’ll have the fish tomorrow.” “Why not tonight?” Ron asked. “Tomorrow’s Friday!” Ron shook his head. “I should have known.” The next day, John Bachey and his brother-in-law, Phil Weiser, met me for a run outside. Once again, the Spanish mackerel were prevalent and co-operative—just like the previous Friday when John Freeland disproved the “13th Jinx.” And when I tell you they caught fish, I mean THEY CAUGHT FISH! “It’s a fish on every cast,” John Bachey marveled at one point. “I’ve never had an experience like this in my life.” His best fish of the day was a Spanish in the 5-pound class, but he and Phil whooped like schoolboys because of the nonstop action. John Freeland, meanwhile, fished with me on the 13th and absolutely hammered the Spanish. Less than a week later, he split a trip with Bill Rogers, of Duluth, and the spotted buggers were in very short supply. We did locate a nice pod of baby tarpon in the 30-to-50-pound class, which was exciting. It would have been MORE exciting if one of them had eaten a fly, but at least there was a state of constant anticipation. “Anticipation” also sums up yesterday’s outing with Bob Pascal and his lady friend Terry Janeczko. The graph on my Garmin 172C was absolutely PAINTED with fish images. Would they eat? No! Well, one small Spanish did eat the glass minnow jig Terry was using, but the pods just weren’t turned on. Time and time again we’d start to run and Terry would tap my arm and point at the graph covered with little green fish in varying sizes. Bob, a former All-America halfback at Duke, certainly was “turned on” by something very large and powerful that inhaled his jig and methodically swam away from the boat. No fuss, no muss. No leaping acrobatics. Just a steady ziiiiiing of the reel. When it looked as if we were dangerously close to being spooled, I tightened the drag. Ziiiiiing. I tightened a bit more. Ziiiiiiiing. I tightened a bit more. Then, to paraphrase the title of Cornelius Ryan’s book, I went “A Turn Too Far.” PING! Which I regretfully must admit falls into the category of “Guide Failure.” Shoulda just fired up the big motor and given chase to what was either a shark or a cobia. Next time, Bob. Next time. ENGLISH SETTER UPDATE I am constantly amazed at the difference in Ghost when her half-tablet of Previcox kick in. We can see her eyes perk up and her whole attitude change. Anyone who has an older dog (she’ll be 12 in May) with arthritis or hip problems (she blew out her left anterior cruciate ligament in ’05), needs to ask the vet about this stuff. Ghost was on Rimadyl, but this new stuff is far superior. It lets her roughhouse with Heart—the 21-month-old—and keeps her in excellent condition. Heart is coming along. As all “intact” male pups will do, he’s a constant blur of motion. Grouse season should be very interesting come October! In the meantime, Little Tunny (false albacore) should show up soon, along with King mackerel. That means tarpon won’t be far behind as the water temperature warms. And THAT means it’s time to check your schedule for May, June and July. I still have some good dates left, but my calendar is filling up pretty quickly. A Beach Retreat and the Venice Holiday House both have special rates for my anglers. Go to the Links dropdown for all the info on both hotels. Tight Loops,Capt. Tony
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