We are a group of anglers in the central Florida Area who fish from kayaks in fresh and salt water.
By: Jim Whitted
It’s 4 am and the alarm goes off, you reach and smack it because you didn’t sleep well. Rolling out of bed you wipe your eyes and make your way to the shower. Soon you are making your way down stairs and the aroma of fresh coffee hits you. The steaming black nectar warms you inside and you begin to feel the anticipation of the day ahead of you. A quick jaunt on the internet to check the weather and your FS forum, now you are ready.
The drive to the coast is a familiar one, but today it seems to be a little longer for some reason, you have an itch. In the darkness you search for the turn off the main road. You have been here a million times but for some reason, it’s important not to miss it. Traveling now at a snail’s pace down the bumpy dirt path you search for your spot, it is “the” spot to put in. Finally you see the tell tale depression in the grass where you have parked before. In the predawn darkness you stand where you have stood before on this hallowed ground countless times before but today is different and you don’t know why. You have rigged the kayak and slipped it into the shallow water, it is slightly cool on your feet and feels good.
Looking over your shoulder you see that the sun is beginning to lighten the eastern sky. The water ahead is dark and ominous but this is the place. You know it like the back of your hand, every pothole, mangrove clump, flat, cut and depression, but still it is intimidating in the twilight. The water is an on going slick sheet with only your kayak and paddle for disturbance. Silently and effortlessly you glide along. The sky is becoming lighter and you can begin to see pods of bait moving here and there. Passing them by they skitter on the surface a little but you let it go. Driven forward almost pulled by someone or something you move on.
A mile south now you lay the paddle across your lap and glide, you glide so quiet you can hear the mullet smacking their lips on the surface. There, twenty yards out next to that old dead mangrove is a pod of mullet and they are just a little too nervous. Reaching back you have one of your favorite rods in the holder with a top water lure at the ready. You begin to feel the tremble in your fingers as you flip the bail and finger the braided line. The whip of the rod tip pierces the dawn with an eerie swish and the skitter walk sails like it has never before. As the lure rockets towards its destination you feather the line to slow down and soften the splash.
The lure has landed five yards to the right and maybe ten yards past the bait pod, it’s a perfect cast! The pounding in your chest begins as your lure is walking zigzag on the surface. Within just a few feet the water explodes in white foam and a fury, the lure is flying through the air. It lands and quickly you gather line to gain control of the situation but its too late! The water erupts again and this time your rod doubles over.
The strike is so violent it rocks you in the yak and you have to regain your balance. Now the slight pounding in your chest has increased to the rumble of a Harley Davidson on the interstate. The line screaming from the reel with that beautiful music that braid makes when a big fish is on. “The Fight” has begun! This creature from the lagoon is running for its life and from you. Line is peeling from your spool and you drop the tip of your rod…let her run, let her run. Pulling the tip of the rod to your left you finally get the behemoth to turn, now she is fifty yards out. You know the drill, pump and reel, pump and reel. All of a sudden the line is slack and franticly you begin reeling as fast as you can but it’s not good enough. The wake shoots under the kayak and your rod doubles up again. The kayak spins and does an about face, you are being pulled north. Pump and reel, pump and reel you gain control.
Soon a monster trout at 30 plus inches rolls on its side next to your kayak in submission. Gingerly you lift her into your lap and remove the hook. Sliver glistening with a million spots she is there gills pumping. Quickly you admire this spectacle of nature and ease her into the water. A moment or two to revive her and she slides out of your hands with a majestic kick and disappears into a sea of widgeon grass. As you catch your breath, slimy and wet, you smile and quietly say thank you.
The sun breaks the horizon and you feel more alive than you ever have before, before most folks have had their first cup of coffee. Then you think….I can’t wait till next Saturday.