The Hobie Pro Angler

I went to the dark side… I pedaled today.            

I know a lot of people who Pedal a kayak instead of paddling one.  I am talking about the Hobie brand of kayaks.  Namely the Pro Angler series.  Today I finally got back on the water in a kayak with my buddy, IFA Kayak Angler of the Year and 2011 IFA Kayak Champion Justin Carter.   Carter is a local kayak fishing guide and knows more about redfish than most bottle nosed dolphins do.  I’d swear his Dad was a Redfish and his Mom was a Mermaid but I have met them both and I saw no scales.  Carter and I used to fish all the time, sometimes 3 or 4 times a week.  But school and work and other things got in my way so we of course do not fish as much as we used to.  Today was a day to catch up and check out a kayak I have heard good things about, it was time to see it for myself. 

I remember when Carter got his first Pro Angler (PA), or “BattleStar” as I call them.  I have photos of Carter standing on the bow of his PA and our other fishing partner Austin standing on the back of the same PA poling it around like a flats skiff while Carter threw a 10-foot cast net for bait.  These things are SICKLY stable. 

My goals today are to see the stability, comfort and ease of use the pedal drive affords for myself and see if I think they are as good as the claims.  

We met up at Carters house and loaded the gear and hitched up the trailer.  After a quick stop for a bite we were on the way to the landing.  Once we got there we started to unload the kayaks.  Carter had the PA12, this is new this year and winner of awards at ICAST, and I was in the PA14.  I dubbed it mentally as BattleStar Redfisicus.  Unloading from the back of the truck was pretty easy but I doubt I could do it by myself.  The kayak weighs in at a little over 100 pounds un-rigged,  it is manageable for most non-injured folks but not for this broken up old guy.  After we got all the gear loaded and the truck parked we launched and started making our way out.  It took me a few minutes to get the drive system down.  You’d think that it’s like riding a bike but it is a little different.  You have to watch your cadence to keep your, I guess fins is the term, from slapping the hull.  I didn’t realize I was doing it until Carter mentioned it and it makes a lot of sense… You don’t want to try puttin a sneak on a school of Redfish and then start slappin the hull with those fins making all kinds of noise.  After a few minutes I got it down and we were off and peddling.  

It took me a little while to find a really comfortable spot in the kayak.  I had the seat back too far up, too far back, pedals were too far forward, then too far back.  I made sure I was out of the way of any passing boats and got myself situated.  Once I figured out where I wanted to be it was amazingly comfortable.  As I tried to catch up to Carter the first thing I saw fish wise was a good sized Bonnet Head shark cursing the shallows… I threw a fly at him but he wasn’t interested and before I could think about another one he was gone.   I gathered up my fly line and chased Carter down.  We found a few spots and started fishing.  Carter throwing Top water and having a lot of blow ups, I was throwing an M4 and getting bit here and there.  As I started to fish I stood up.  Wow.  I have stood up in a good many kayaks and have always had to find a center of balance, sometimes a little sometimes a lot, but in the PA there is nothing like this.  You stand up, period.  It is literally like standing up on a dock.  The claims about the stability while standing to fish in this kayak have been under-rated.  It is simply amazing.   The drive system is easily removed and put on the seat behind me to keep my fly line from fouling, if you want to fly fish from this kayak I highly suggest this or have a good stripping basket with you.   I set a stake out pole and started casting.  I turned sideways in the kayak to cast to my right and it was still stable and a comfortable.  I have been a fan of the Freedom hawk kayaks but after today, they need some work if they want to keep claiming the stability they do, of course this just my opinion.   

We continued to pedal and fish along the Inter Coastal Waterway and pickup trout and lady fish here and there.  Sometimes I would get a little too shallow and have to pull the drive system.  Once I did this I used the paddle as a push pole and was able to get shallower and keep fishing.  One piece of advice for anyone who has never used a Hobie Mirage drive kayak… Make sure you do bring a paddle…   even though you may not need it, coming around a bend in a creek to find myself in a few inches of water, the Mirage Drive did me no good.  All you will do it tear up your fins and disable the drive.  Having a paddle is still a must but I only used it twice the whole day to get myself out of spots where the drive system was too long for the water depth.  The fact remains that it is a mechanical piece of equipment.  It seems very well built but if it has moving parts it CAN break… Take the paddle, ya never know.

So my list of Pros for the PA14:

-         -  Most Stable kayak I have ever been in.  Period.  There are others that are stable but nothing compares to this kind of stability.  I have been on power boats that were not this stable.

-         -  Comfortable seat and positions to pedal.  The seat is high enough to let you see easily without having you so high up you feel like you will tip over. 

-          - Plenty of storage room and even the bow hatch is easily accessible on the water.

-                      The smaller storage areas in the cockpit are well laid out and easy to get to and use.

-      -     The drive system is very easy to use after a little familiarization, you won’t be kicking up a rooster-tail wake behind you but it is smooth and powerful and makes fishing on the move or trolling very easy.

-       -   Very maneuverable for a kayak this big.  The rudder is well placed and the kayak responds very well to the rudder commands.  Having the rudder below the stern and basically enclosed keeps fish from getting wrapped up on it and lines catching on it almost impossible.  I have lost fish on other kayaks due to lines getting caught on the rudder hardware and breaking.  

My list of Cons for the PA14:

-          - The weight.  You have to sacrifice something and I will take a heavier kayak that has this kind of stability but for some people this will just be too much weight to handle solo. 

-         -  And personally the cost.  It is a little high for my kayak fishing budget.  In kayak fishing it is truly “you get what you pay for” in this case you get a lot for what you pay.  Not saying the kayak is not worth the price they ask, it’s just a little steep for me.  

Over all I would give the PA14, on my new scoring system of Redfish tails, 10 being the best,  9.65 out of 10 Redfish Tails.    I enjoyed my day in the Pro Angler, I saw that all the claims I have heard were true and some ideas I had about it to be wrong.  The kayak is stable, agile, comfortable, roomy and easy to pedal.  The awards won for this design are well deserved.  

If anyone would like to try out a Pro Angler, you can book a charter with Kayakfishsc.com and ask for Carter.  http://kayakfishsc.com/guides/  

If you’d like to purchase one they are available at your local Hobie dealer, here in Charleston that is Time Out Sport and Ski, http://www.timeoutsports.net/index.htm.  Stop in and the team will take care of all your Kayaking needs.  

And of course for ANY and ALL of your fly fishing needs, fresh or salt water, from rods to reels to books and videos, tying materials and tying tools, come visit The Low Country Fly Shop, the only true Fly Shop in the low country.  http://www.lowcountryflyshop.com/

Ugly flies catch fish too

While I was stationed in Colorado Springs I taught my self to fly fish.  I learned to cast, while not pretty it got line and my fly out and I caught fish.  I met people over my tour there and they helped me and I got better.  I actually started tying flies before I started fly fishing and was pretty bad at it.  My proportions were always off, I was tying Adams in size 2, yeah they were pretty huge.  The only fly I could tie that looked close to what it was supposed to look like was a wooly bugger.  My all time favorite fly.  Recently I started a fly tying challenge on SCKayakfishing.com and some one made a comment about ugly flies and it got me thinking about my ugly flies.  Just for the record though... I am a much better tyer now and do tie some pretty flies...

I was fishing some gold medal water in Colorado, ( Catch and release only, trophy waters), in 11-mile canyon.  it was notorious for being hard to fish and having heavily pressured fish that were very picky and hard to catch.  When I was at my local shop the guy told me to not even bother, I was too new and didn't have the skills yet to come close to catching fish there.  I left home early in the dark and made my way down the road and eventually found the pull out right as the sun came up.  I gathered my gear, a mish mash of cheap stuff I could afford and headed for the trail.  As I hiked down the trail looking for, well I had no Idea what I was looking for.  I knew where the water was but I had no idea what was good or bad.  I fished a few pools and saw nothing.  It was probably loaded with trout but I had no idea what to look for or how to "read" water.  As I came down a little hill on the trail I finally found a pool and I could see 5 REALLY nice fish just rising and sipping bugs. My heart started racing, my hands shook a little.  Nothing like seeing a redfish tail in the grass but I was geeked out pretty bad.   I got a little closer and realized there was someone fishing already. I worked my way down and behind the pool so I wouldn't spook the fish and sat down on a rock to watch him for a while.

This guy was the Orvis catalog come to life.  He had the perfect rod, the perfect reel, the hip waders, the cedar landing net, all the tools on a lanyard neatly around his neck, the felt hat with flies stuck in it, I mean this guy was a Trout Fisherman, a Purist I later learned was the correct term.  I watched him tie on a fly, make perfect casts with laser tight loops,  this guy was a surgeon with that fly rod.  He worked those fish for about 45 minutes, changed flies about 80 times.  Every cast he would lay down the trout would rise look at his fly and turn away or sip the real bug next to it.  New fly same result.  This was his mantra and he seemed to like it.  He finally reeled up and came over to where I was. His name was Charles.  Not Chuck  or Charlie, it was Charles.  He was a dentist from Denver.  We talked about how tough the fish were. He showed me his fly box, about 200 flies all perfectly lined up arranged by size and color.  My fly box was a cheap foam box with about 30 flies in it and they were stuck haphazardly wherever I could find room.

I looked at the pool, the fish had started their rising to bugs again and I asked him If I could give it a shot.  He looked at me in my shorts and Chucks,  my $20 Scientific Anglers rod and Shakespeare reel and literally laughed. (I had been fly fishing and tying for about 2 months now and by the way I still fish that $20 SA rod)  When he got done laughing at me he asked what fly I was going to use.  I held up my tippet with my carefully selected fly, that I used all my vast experience to choose, a size 16 "Trash fly".  Yep the one where you get head cement stuck on a hook and drop it in your trash bag and whatever sticks to it makes your fly.  I heard about this "mistake" fly and decided to actually "tie" one.  His eyes got real big and he laughed so hard I thought he was going to literally die. 

I stepped up to the run, took a really deep breath, pulled my line off my reel, mustered all my skill and training and made a really bad cast.  The line slapped the water and my fly bounced off a rock,  but the fly was in the water. The fish spooked but quickly settled down.  I pulled my line out and tried again, better this time, a little softer, it was no where near where I wanted it but I let it drift and tried to concentrate over his guffaws.  The first big trout in the run came out from the edge, and slowly rose to the fly, looked at it, followed it a bit and *sip* my fly was gone. Holy Monkey!!!  I didn't know what to do... I had never done this before.  I panicked and set the hook a little hard but the trout was on.  He ran and jumped and freaked out like all good Bows do,and after a pretty quick fight I had him in my landing net.

My heart was racing, my hands were shaking, but I had a nice Bow about 18" in my hands, well in the net, in the water in my hands but you get the idea.   The look on the guys face was priceless.  He wasn't laughing now.  I have never seen such disbelief in a persons face. The look was awesome, but it was even better when I asked him to take a picture of me with my fish.  He shook his head and took my picture.

He left right after that and left me to to the run.  I threw that fly back in there a few times and caught one more of the fish before they got wise to me.  I reeled up my line and made my way back up to my jeep.  I had a pretty good day and when I walked past the other Orvis Catalogs as they passed me and heard their snickers I just remembered I caught fish when they probably didn't.  


The moral to this story is, a fly, or a fisherman for that matter, does not have to be perfect or pretty to catch fish.... So get on your vise and tie and ugly fly, strap on your Chucks and go fish...

Raw thumb and fishing for squirrels

My thumb is raw, I slipped in a bunch of goose poop almost falling on my butt, and I lost 3 flies.   Some people would see this is as a bad thing but I am grinnin ear to ear.   

Work and school have had me pretty down lately.  So I got up this AM right before the sun peeked over the houses, grabbed my trusty March Brown 5wt and headed out back to see if the bass were up yet.   I have a retention pond out back, it’s a big neighborhood pond and I am fortunate to live on the biggest one in our subdivision.  It has a nice moderate drop off on the sides, the deepest my kayak depth finder has found was 12 feet and it has a nice big submerged island in the middle.  It makes a nice big flat for the fish to feed and bed on.  I have carefully staked out mallard and wood duck decoys that mark the edge of the island where it starts to drop off and I have caught 7 different species of fish in the pond.  I like it a lot.  

This morning I was throwing a green gurgler with a little red hackle and some green rubber legs in about a size 1.  Bloooop….Bloooop….Blooooop… WHOOOOOSH!!!!  I love seeing a top water bite.  It has been a while since my pond fish have reacted to a gurgler.  About two years ago I whooped these fish rather badly over the summer on gurglers and this is the first time they have eaten them again in two years.  Well, it’s back on and I am having a blast.  

There is a spot along the bank, right behind my house and I always see bass running this part of the bank chasing bream or shiners.  I decided I’d start there and work my way around the pond.  As I stripped line off my reel a large boil and splash erupted to me left right at the spot.  Yep, the bass are awake and hungry.  I took my time getting my line off and managed at my feet and began my false cast.  My March Brown fly rod loves to eat line.  In only three false casts I had about forty feet of line out and a nice tight loop.  I dropped the fly about two feet off the bank and let it sit for just a second and started stripping it in letting it make its namesake sound.  I casted a second time to about the same spot only a little further out.  Plop.  Bloooop….Bloooop.. BAM!  Fish on!  He wasn’t a giant but he ate my fly and that always makes me happy.  I stripped him in and grabbed his lip.  Right in the corner of the mouth was my fly.  A quick flick of the Willy Joe Hemo-cuts and the fly was loose. 

 I tossed him back and checked my leader and moved down the bank.  A little further down is a spot on the island that has a really steep drop-off and the bass love to hang out there.  A fly thrown up on the island flat and dragged off the edge usually gets eaten.  I had about 5 big blow-ups on my fly before the line came tight and I had the fish on.  The sun was just peeking up and the reflection on the glass calm water was shattered but a nice little two-pound bass.  As he cleared the water and shook the water flew off like diamonds and he was back under running again.  As he neared the bank he went deep and got into the grass.  The fight stopped.  I stood there waiting to feel a tug or head shake but it was just dead weight.  Uh oh, this isn’t good.  I pulled up slowly and felt a little tug back so I figured I still had him.  Then just as I thought I had him out of the grass and would be able to drag him in, “tink” goes the line and I only have a leader.  Fly #1 gone.  I tie my own flies so this isn’t a big deal, but it was the last one of that size I had left.   I am actually writing this and looking at my vise knowing as soon as I have this done its back to tying for a while.  

I tied on a bigger fly of the same color and pattern and as I worked  my way around to another spot that usually has a big one hanging out in it, I caught about six more smaller fish in the one-two pound range.  I arrived at the spot where I usually see the biggun.  Two or three casts later there was a blow-up on my fly and I had another fish on.  This one could barely fit the fly in his mouth but he was jumpin and shakin like he was a 12-pounder!  I stripped him in and took the fly out and let him swim back.  A few casts later another blow up on my fly.  It was a big whoosh and this one was from a grown fish.  My line came tight and as he started to pull line back, “tink”… my fly was gone.  Mr. Bass now has a nice piercing and some lip jewelry.  That gave me quite a rush.  That fish was, ( now remember the fisherman’s rules for lost/not seen fish apply here), at least 40 pounds and had giant sharp teeth with glowing red eyes and a harpoon sticking out of his side!!  But really it was a good solid fish and I have caught 6-7 lb bass in this pond before.  I tied on my last green gurgler and started casting.  In the past I have actually caught the fish that has broken me off a few casts later and gotten my fly back so I gave it a shot.  This fly was a little more special since it had a rattle in it.  I dropped it on the drop off, bloop, bloop, BAM!  Another solid fish in the three-pound range but he was wearing no lip jewelry.  A couple more fish in the one-pound range and I figured that big one was at home admiring my fly stuck I his lip and posting pictures of it on his FaceBook page. 

 I moved along and worked over another spot.  After about 6 casts I decided that squirrels were on the target list and since I mis-judged the tree behind me my fly launched itself into the topmost branches, ya know the ones that don’t bend far enough down to get your fly back, yep that one.  As I tried to get my fly back the leader popped about 4 inches from my connection.  I only had a small spool of tippet, not really a good choice for replacing an entire leader, with me so I had to call it a morning.  I rolled up my line and headed into the house.   

As I sit here now my dog is snoring at my feet and the house is quiet.  The perfect time to tie flies for this evening’s adventure…

Salt on my Gills again

I finally got salt water on my gills this morning and I feel like a new man.  I met up with my buddy Gifford and we hit the water right before sunrise.  Armed with Mt. Dew, my trusty March Brown fly rod and a fistful of flies we ran up the Wando River in search of tail.  The air was chilly and the wind didn’t help much, (this is June in SC right?), but we weren’t running far.   The sound of the motor running us up the river was music to my ears, the smell of salt water and pluff mud was a joy to my nose, the tiny bit of spray made my skin tingle,  and seeing the sun just peeking itself over the trees and reflecting off the water was a visual joy.  I had been assaulted on all fronts of my senses and I was near over load.  It has been far, far, far too long since I have been able to get out like this.  I miss it dearly. 

As we neared out target creek we slowed and started looking for the tell-tale spots that would hold fish.  Small, shallow grass flats that flood with water and have tiny feeder creeks running in and out of them.  This is where the redfish come on and off the flat and the more access/exit points the better.  Redfish like to have avenues to make a quick exit.  We motored down the creek, Gifford at the helm of his East Cape Fury, expertly navigating the tiny creeks twists and turns.  He powered down and we rolled into a grass edge that slowed us down and it got really quiet.  We just stood there looking at the water, taking it all in, looking for signs of fish.  To me it felt like an hour but it was just a few seconds.  Gifford climbed up on the poling platform and I pulled my fly rod from its tube under the gunnels.  As we poled along we talked about fish and the weather and tried to figure out why the tides have been so wonky and higher than predicted lately.  We scanned the flat back and forth and the first fish showed itself.   A quick flip of the tail and it was gone.   That’s when my hands started shaking and my heart sped up to 100mph.   We worked our way around the back side of the flat and saw a few more.  Then we saw one that was grubbin hard in the back of the flat in a small pocket.  It didn’t look like a giant but it was a tailing redfish and we moved into striking range. 

I pulled fly line off my reel and it coiled at my feet, my eyes never leaving the fish.   I began my false cast and let the line shoot.  It was a little long and too far ahead.  I double hauled the line and dropped it closer and it his path.  The fish kept tailing on the line we hoped and my fly was stuck a little high in the water.  Gifford’s expert advice rang in my ears, although he was whispering, “Strip, strip!.... Small Strip”…  Tunnel vision had set in and everything sounded like I had my head in a tin can, time slowed down and for a moment EVERYTHING was just perfect.   I let the fly settle a little and then the silence was shattered with a huge rush of water and what I can only describe as the sound of a very big toilet being flushed, as the fish made its move.  I froze.  The mantra, “Keep Calm and don’t trout set” was blaring in my head as I tried to figure out if the fish spooked or if he ate my fly.  Just as I heard Gifford say, “He ate it!!!” I felt the fly line slipping through my fingers.  My heart skipped a beat and I grabbed the line, pulled back hard and swept my rod low and to the right.  The fish exploded and started his run.  Line screamed off the deck, through my fingers, the fish came tight on the reel and the drag began its beautiful song.   As the song played and the fish ran for heavier grass we booth started grinning ear to ear.  Somewhere in the distance I heard “Keep ‘em tight” and I realized it was Gifford only 15 feet behind me.  I was in my own world and it was a trip I have not made in a long time. 

I started taking line back and the fish would run again.  Back and forth we played until I thought he was tired enough and ready to have that hook removed so he could swim away.  I reached for the fly line to land him and that’s when he saw the boat.  He did not like the boat.  He did not like the boat in any way and decided the best avenue for escape was directly under it.  As I danced around the bow trying to get my rod under the boat and keep pressure on the fish Gifford hopped back onto the platform and turned the boat around.  After a few more runs to the deep grass I finally got hold of the line and pulled him in.  As I hoisted him out of the water he began to drum.  Then it hit both of us that this fish was much bigger than we thought he was.  As I looked at the fish, and waited for my tunnel vision to dissipate, Gifford got out his camera and I realized, not only had I landed my first Redfish on the fly of 2012, this was the biggest Redfish I have ever landed on the fly.  We took pictures of the fish from a few angles.   I laid down on the boat to release him.  I put him in the water with a hand on his tail and under his belly, and he just laid there.   Tickled him a little and he twitched a little bit.  It took a minute or two before he realized I was going to let him go and when this realization hit him he gave a good kick of his tail and was gone, swimming off strong to fight another day. 

As I checked my leader with my trembling hands we started poling around looking for another one.  We saw several more tails waving in the grass and got a shot at a few but the wind blew us too close and they spooked or I would drop a shot over them and the line would spook them off.  We moved to another area and found a lot of laid up fish, floating in the grass just hanging out.  We tried to get a fly in front of them but the water was gin clear and the fish were really spooky.   After moving to the last spot we poled through some great looking water but saw nothing.  No Redfish, no bait just a good sized blue crab scurrying towards a grass clump.  The morning had passed us by and Gifford had to get to work so we called it a day and headed back in.  All in all it was a banner day.  Just getting back on the water was awesome, landing a personal best Redfish on the fly was the topping on the cake.   Days like today make me really appreciate how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful place.  Good Friends, Fly rods and Redfish.  Life on the fly.

My fishin partner came home again

             A few years back I was stationed in Colorado.  I used to fish the Air Force Academy lakes quite a bit and I usually had a fishing partner.   One of my Daughters was usually up and ready to go fishing with me.  Once I took all three of my Daughters and did not let my wife know… yeah you can imagine the phone call I got that morning after she woke up and the kids had “vanished”.  We got better about leaving notes and making sure everyone was accounted for.  Memories of my Daughters first Rainbow and Brook trout are still vivid in my mind.  We used to go camping and fishing and more times than not, one of them was along.  My oldest Daughter, Chelsea, went with me most often.  Most times she would fish for a bit then explore and come back with feathers and rocks and weird looking sticks, one time she even found a geocache.  We had no idea what it was but read the instructions, swapped out trinkets, and made sure she put it back.   Over the years fishing became yucky and smelly and pretty much off the “things to do” list.  Soccer, dances, and boys all took over that spot.  No more trips where my Daughters out fished me. 

                Recently, Chelsea told me she wanted to go kayak fishing when she came home from college on a break.   My heart leapt and I started checking tide charts, consulting with guides and locating a good spot.  I planned this trip out for a couple weeks and had visions of her battling redfish and hoisting them up triumphantly.  The day finally came and we were off.

                We got to the landing and got the kayaks offloaded and were waiting for some friends to get there.  I handed her a rod with a grub on it and she started casting.   Two casts later she landed her first fish of the day.  We hadn’t even got in the kayaks wet.  She had landed a nice little Bank Sea Bass.  I didn’t know they went this far up the river but there it was.  We launched and paddled down river.   We set up and threw out our baits and then started tossing artificial baits to fishy looking spots.  She managed to net a good sized crab that was eating her bait so we used it for bait for the big reds.  Our friends caught up and we paddled down to our next spot.   We set up and watched the water roll out of the grass.  There were a lot of small bluefish and crabs abusing our bait so we paddled back towards our launch to a spot I knew we should do good at.  We reset our anchors and got our baits out.  Her rod tip started dancing then bent over.  She fought it for a few minutes and Ta-Daa!!! Stingray.  She handed me the rod to remove the “Steve Killer” from the hook.  A quick flick of the wrist and pliers and the flat menace was on his way swimming back to the channel.  A new finger mullet was loaded and the line back out.  The rod danced again and this time a beautiful Wando River Speckled Sea Trout came in the kayak for a visit. 

                I was enjoying her reeling in fish and smelling the marsh and realized I needed to try and catch up.  I loaded a finger mullet under a cork and splash.  The cork moved instantly and then disappeared.   Visions of redfish danced in my head until the little Blue fish came up.   Stupid little greaser.   The sun was setting and Chelsea had a date so we called it a day.  As we paddled back in we chatted and raced and laughed and had a really good time.   Spending this afternoon on the water was the best day I have had in a while.  The relaxing sounds of the water on the hull of my kayak and the smells of the salt water and pluff mud still soothed the soul, but being able to share that with her was the best day of fishing I have had in a long time.   I even loved getting out fished again.   I think I know how my dad felt when I would out fish him. 

                Of course she is older now, in college, and on her own but I still saw my little girl paddling next to me.  She is doing great in school and I couldn’t be any prouder than I am in her.  Hopefully she will want to go fishing again soon.  I miss my fishin partner. 

Recycled Fish...

I have a great group of friends... about 90% of them are fly fishermen and we all help each other out.  It's kinda what ya do when you are in the addiction like we are. 

One of my friends asked to help spread the word about  a new, well new to me,  org, called Recycled Fish.  Now I am not one to just blog and post up anything.  I have to believe in it and agree with it.  After a little research I like what these guys are doing.  I believe that anyone who fishes needs to be a steward of the environment.  We pack out what we bring in and I don’t know how many times I have returned to the landing with a kayak full of trash that people threw out.  Unless we clean up after ourselves and make sure we are not killing every fish we catch, my kids and grand-kids will be able to fly fish the marshes and creeks I fish now and be able to land those 30” redfish, Guys like me and the Recycled Fish are trying to make sure that happens.  I try, I really do, to do the green thing and leave as small a footprint I can. 

Now for some stuff from the web page…

Recycled Fish is the national non-profit organization of "anglers living a Lifestyle of Stewardship both on and off the water, because Our Lifestyle Runs Downstream."

We started out talking about Catch and Release, but it’s bigger than that now. If we want to catch more and bigger fish today and leave healthy waters for our grandkids, it takes living a Lifestyle of Stewardship both on and off the water.

On the water, we promote the S.A.F.E. Angling concept – "Sustaining Angling, Fish and Ecosystems." It’s the practices and products we can use to live as stewards when we’re on the water. It’s non-toxic and biodegradable tackle, single barbless hooks, and it’s cleaning up trash when we find it. It's not just Catch and Release, Selective Harvest is part of living as a steward on the water, too. "Limit Your Catch – Don’t Catch Your Limit!"

When Recycled Fish started back in 2004, spreading the word on Catch and Release and Selective Harvest was our primary message.

It’s bigger than that now. Today, we’re a national movement of fisherman who live a lifestyle of stewardship on and off the water.

We’re doing stuff like putting in low flow shower heads and changing how we care for our lawns, because that stuff matters to fisheries as much or more than catch and release.

Or it should be said, "Catch and Release alone won’t solve the problems facing our fisheries."

If we want more and bigger fish in our waters, now and for our kids, a lifestyle of stewardship is what it’s going to take, because our Lifestyle Runs Downstream.

So check out my friends over on www.recycledfish.org and do what ya can to help.  They donate like 30% of sales to the cause in the shop and there is a BUNCH of good looking flies, even for a salt water guy like me and really good prices!  Even if you can’t or don’t want to support Recycled Fish, just remember their catch phrase, "Limit Your Catch – Don’t Catch Your Limit!", and really think about it.   Let’s make sure these fish, from Brookies, to Steelhead to giant Redfish, are all here for us and later generations to catch! 

Tight Lines and Screamin Drags!!!

Another addict to the fold

As we drive in the dark towards the flat my fishing buddy for the day is pretty excited.  He is trying to be cool but I can see it in his eyes.  He is hungry for a redfish on the fly.  James has never seen a redfish tailing on a flat, so I made it my mission to at least let him see one and try his hand at enticing one to eat his fly and give him a story to tell over and over for years to come.   We all remember our first redfish on the fly.  The tingling in every single one of your nerves, the tunnel vision, the slow motion cast as it falls too short or too long, your heart beating a thousand beats per minute.  Then you make the perfect cast, it might not be the prettiest but it’s where it needs to be.  You see the swirl where your fly is, you feel the line start to run, your strip set and feel the power of the fish as he hauls fin away at mach 6.998 and your drag screaming.  I wanted James to experience this.  

We string up our rods and make out way out across a small creek and into the grass.  The wind is down and it is quiet on the marsh.  As we stomp our way out to where the water will fill in we talk about redfish, flies, and I give him a quick down and dirty class on where they will be and how to catch them.  As we stop to listen, the sounds of birds and the big splash of redfish crashing bait in the deep grass come to our ears.  We both grin ear to ear, because we know the redfish are here. 

We back off the grass and move down a ways to my favorite spot.  As we stand there listening and our eyes straining in the slowly raising light, the bugs are awful.  They get into your eyes, nose, and ears and bite the livin dookie outa ya.  As the light comes up just enough to see, the water is now shin deep and the first tail pops up.  James sees it but it is a fleeting flip and it is gone.  Then about 10 feet in front of us a redfish starts tailing.  I point it out to James and watch as his eyes get as big as dinner plates.  We both have the same grin and right there I know I have created another addict.

He strips line of his reel, eyes never leaving the fish, he asks for any last minute advice and I turn him loose.  His first cast is a little too far so he pulls it up and drops it closer.  The fish swims over it and he drops the fly again.  Now the fish changes direction.  The next cast gets hung up on the grass and isn’t even in the water as the fish swims under the fly.  He whispers to me, “catch ‘em.. catch ‘em” and I start to cast.  I have the same luck as I see another fish pop up.  I put the sneak on him and start moving towards a better line as James sees another fish to his right and follows him.  We separate to opposite ends of the big pocket and work on our fish.  At one point James is surrounded by tails as I am on the other end of the pocket.   

For the next forty-five minutes we chase fish and drop flies in front of them.  Then the tide turns and the water starts to move out of the grass.  The fish will follow the water and we need to get to work.  On our way back to the truck we see two more fish and we work them over quickly before they spook and are gone.  We probably spent more time just watching the fish tail in the grass and watching the early morning golden light glisten off the electric blue edges of their tails.  I didn’t get James on his first red on the fly but he did see them and like me was just happy to see them and be able to spend a beautiful morning on the marsh.  The next set of flood tides is in a couple weeks and there won’t be as much bait… I am pretty sure we are gonna get him on a red soon.

Fathers Day

The early twilight of a new day barely lets you see anything and we cruise down the road.  From my vantage point I can’t really make out much but the bait and tackle shop looms in the distance and the welcoming lights allow me to see a little of where I am.  An old shack of a building with hissing lights and a green painted screen door with a small rope loop for a handle, greets us like an old friend.  As we walk in the smell of salt water and the hum of aerators for the live bait assault my senses.  The low ceiling is covered in all sorts of rods, nets, taxidermy of those trophies the owner has caught.  Racks of hooks and lures and small cubby holes filled with lead and pre-made rigs line the walls and fill the floor.  A few old timers stand around the counter discussing the bite and who caught the last REAL fish.   I make a bee-line to the cooler and grab an ice cold YooHoo and some chocolate donuts, no fishing trip can start this early  and end up right without YooHoo and chocolate donuts.  We get our bait and a quick fishing report on what is biting and where and we are back on the road.  The sun starts to peek over the horizon and while a climb around on the rocks balancing my YooHoo and donuts the first line sings out to start the fishing.  The year is 1975 and this is usually how my weekends start with my dad. 

                I remember fondly these early morning forays to the Long Island Sound with my Dad chasing Stripers and blues and anything else that would bite a hook.    He was in the Navy and was deployed a lot of the time but when he was home, after the honey do’s that piled up on the last cruise were done, it was time to fish.  My Dad taught me how to fish, he taught me how to hunt, how to tie knots, sharpen a knife, make bottom rigs, and everything else required to catch fish.  Always with conservation in mind, he was always quick to tell me to throw the small ones back to grow up while people around us filled buckets and coolers with small fish.  We would spend hours fishing off the beach or a fishing pier, or off rock jetties and if we got lucky a friends boat.    Fresh water or salt water, it didn’t matter, my Dad is the consummate fisherman.  He has fished around the world, caught giant fish and even got skunked by me on a small lake in Vermont while I hauled in perch after perch and all he could do was bait my hook and pull fish off my line.   Anytime I have a question about fishing Dad has the answer, especially if it is how to cook up my catch.  I am one of the luckiest men in the world.  I have a Dad who taught me how to fish and more importantly to enjoy fishing.  Even when the skunk followed us to the water or all we caught were small fish not worth taking home, he was always quick to point out the beauty of the water, how the tides worked, currents, when the fish bite best, and everything else that make a fishing trip a great time no matter how good the catching is.  Dad doesn’t fish as much now; he’ll throw a line in the pond when he visits and still enjoy it like he was in the fighting chair on the Pacific side of Panama fighting a grander Black Marlin.  

                I have friends who are Fathers like me who think along the same lines and we all pass on our knowledge to our kids.  I have three Daughters who don’t like to fish too much.  They can still bait a hook and take their own fish off the hook and they practice catch and release like their old man.  I am proud of my daughters and what they have learned about fishing.  I doubt they will have the same passion for it as I do but they can still catch fish and enjoy being on the water. 

                One of my friends James, he lives in Georgia, is the quintessential Southern Gentleman.  He also has three daughters and a son now.  All his daughters are younger than mine and they all love to hunt and fish.  I am sure when young Jackson is old enough he will be living in the woods and on the rivers with his dad and I know James can’t wait.  We have already planned out his schedule for fly casting lessons and looking at what rifle to start him out with.   I love to hear stories about his exploits with his children and all they do.  I hope his daughters love this time in the woods and the water as much as mine did. 

                I am truly blessed to have a Father who taught me all I know about fishing and instilled a love of nature in me and to have friends who think like me and are passing on their knowledge to their children.  So, Happy Fathers Day Dad and to all my fellow Fathers out there.   Make sure ya call, or send a prayer, to your Dad this Sunday and tell him Thanks and you love him.  I sure will be.

Tight Lines and Screamin Drags…

Bassin on the Cooper

We met our guide at the ramp at the Cypress gardens launch just as the sun was peeking up on the horizon.  A big red and white Champion bass boat with a mean looking Yamaha 225 motor strapped to the back,  pulled in and we set about getting it ready to launch. 

After a quick run down the river we got to our first spot.  The wind was up a little and we started with some top-water and threw to a few really fishy looking points and cuts.  We had a few boils on our baits but no blow ups and hook ups. 

We switched tactics and went with a wacky rigged trick worm and started working the banks and drop-offs over.  Our guide, Capt. David Murdaugh, changed his posture and we heard his trademark, “let’s talk about it” line, when his rod bent in half and the water exploded with a beautiful two-pound bass on the other end.  After a pretty quick fight the fish was onboard and we snapped a few pictures.  The fish went back to its lair and we moved down the bank. 

 Small gators popped up and watched us from a distance and fish rolled and popped around us.  As we worked down the creeks and flats we found fish after fish.  Every once in a while we would throw a frog or another top-water bait to no avail.  The bait of the day was the wacky rigged worm.  As we rolled past a line of stumps I tossed the worm in-between two promising ones and let the worm fall.  I expected to feel the bump as it hit the bottom instead I felt a tell tale thump-thump of a fish sucking down a meal.  I set the hook and the rod bent.  My drag peeled off a little and a nice fish rolled then jumped on the surface.  I worked him out from the stumps and dragged him to the boat.  I was pretty happy. 

 I am not a bass fisherman and am really out of my element here.  Being able to listen to Capt. David and apply the lessons he gave us AND hook fish and land them really gets you pumped up.  We continued to work up and down the creeks catching fish and enjoying each others company and fishing stories.  The weather started turning so we ran back towards the landing.  We pressed on a little further and found some nice grass mats and started working them over.  After a short class on mat fishing from David we started working all the pockets over and were rewarded with three really nice four-plus pound bass.  We fished there for a while and we decided to call it a day.  Overall we had a great day with an outstanding guide. Capt. David is the epitome of a quality guide.  He knows the waters he fishes, he has been fishing the Cooper River since he was six-years-old,  and is always quick with a tip and smile for you.  His boat is well organized and if there is something you need he has it neatly packed away somewhere.  If you are looking for a great day on the water with an awesome person and guide then give a call to Cooper River Guide Service, (843) 452-9566 and let Capt. David take you fishing.