Trolling Plugs for Florida Keys Grouper

Aldous Huxley writes that the solitary figure against a wide open foreground and background signifies the value of visionary art as nothing else does. When I read these words 40 years ago, it seemed obvious to me that the idea is symbolic of the individual human being alone in a wide open world, but as I recall, I never came upon Huxley confirming the notion. Maybe he thought it was too obvious to comment on.

The single stunted tree stands about the same height on the islet in the Atlantic a few hundred yards from Bahia Honda Key, as when last we paid respects in 2012. This time, Matt and I had motored out to the reef and to the drop over 85 feet of water, the seas rough, but we got out there without much fear. Jigging didn't seem doable, because pushed by the wind and flow of the waves up top, the boat drifted a considerable distance before a heavy jig would hit bottom. But of course, on Matt's first or second drop, his jig hit bottom, and when he lifted, he found it snagged.

I prepped Matt on using the rods before we flew down. I should have flexed one of the two we owned, to ensure that his memory held in place. Hanging bottom with 50-pound test and heavy drag, he held his rod high. Jigging rods are not pool cue stand-up rods. Mine is rated for 50 to 100-pound braid, but is constructed to be an amazingly light-weight tool. You would never think it has such a high rating, unless familiar with the sort. Listening closely to videos, I learned that when held with too much bend in the rod, it is likely to explode, a point which did not surprise me.

Deep bend in his rod, Matt's broke. He called for my help, pathetically, so I immediately motioned that all was OK, took his rod in hand just before he might have lost the reel with it, aimed at the snag, thumbed the spool, let line break.

No big deal. Told him he can fish bait. I later filled him that since I am more informed on jigging rods than when we bought these in 2012, his new rod will be even better. Besides, the technology advances. We don't pay $1000.00 for a rod, because we don't jig all the time, but Shimano is a good make.

Shortly thereafter, I reeled in a small yellowtail snapper from the bottom. I don't recall if I was already sick, but I did get seasick for the first time in my life, vomiting over the side.

"Eat these chips," Matt said, "The salt will stabilize your stomach."

I worried that if the sickness persisted or got worse, I might be compromised at manning the boat. Matt had driven it over the rough inshore, but out here, the rough would be difficult for a neophyte. Possibly not doable, for all I knew. Only after arrival back here in New Jersey, it occurred to me that I should have let him try. Soon, he might have a son. I have experience at boating rough from my youth. I missed an opportunity to expose him to some while he actually stood at the wheel.

So you can guess I got better. But the seas had suddenly got higher, the space between wave crests narrower. It was not because I felt sick that I said, "We should go in." The sickness had entirely left me.

What if the seas were to get even worse?

I assume they did, because while we fished Bahia Honda, wind increased. It had taken us awhile to get in; I couldn't safely run the boat as fast as I did as we came out. I said to Matt once, "Did you feel the boat twist!?" And then I told him that if the wave was higher, the crests even steeper, the boat would have rolled.

It's not cool to roll your boat there. The water temp was 76.74. But sharks all over.

As we fished Bahia Honda, a small craft advisory had been issued.

Right off the bat, I caught a beautiful 14-plus-inch lane snapper. They're usually six or seven inches long. Went in the cooler. Shrimp bait. Soon I cut up a grunt and we tried to catch grouper, but the only grouper caught while we fished bait was my smallish red grouper on a big piece of shrimp.

Action slowed. Something prompted me to think of trolling plugs. And then I remembered Matt had caught a seven-pound Nassau grouper while trolling a plug from the sailboat while enrolled in Seabase of the Boy Scouts of America. Down here in the Keys. Would it work? Like most questions, it couldn't truly be answered without physical trial.

Took awhile, but Matt finally boated a 12-inch black grouper on a Bandit Walleye Deep, a diving minnow-shaped plug that gets way down. We marked water as deep as 24.7 feet, but this fish hit as we arrived upon shallows. I guess it was from 12 feet of water.

Matt enjoyed more action. Nothing wanted my Rapala diver. But nothing wanted my other Bandit, when I put that on instead. Matt caught all five groupers, two of them pretty nice: a black grouper of about 18 inches, a red grouper I measured at about 17.  They were in that shallower water. Before we went in, we talked about the possibility of a keeper red grouper--legal only inshore, in Gulf waters--and concluded it's probably like bass up here. Plenty of them 18 inches, but 20 inches rare. Or like fluke. How many 17 inches? How many 18?

We took a quick break at the cottage before Trish came out with us We motored under the bridge and trolled straight up Bogie Channel, something slamming Matt's Bandit within minutes. It cut the line, likely a barracuda. A minute later, Matt rigged with the other Bandit, something ploughed into my Rapala. The fight dogged, the fish felt plenty heavy on the jigging rod, so when I saw it was a nice red grouper, I said, "This one could be a keeper!"

Well, that would be too amazing, I guess. Exclamation is usually uttered by a fool. We had just a few fish for dinner. So that night, we ordered pizza, but it was delicious pizza. Gave the delivery a girl a fat tip, even before we knew how good. Trish did eat snapper again, however.

The grouper was fat enough, but measured--barely--19 inches. Twenty inches is legal size.

Matt caught a couple more small ones. So seven groupers jigged by him.

We caught fish.

Old Bahia Honda rail bridge.

Lane Snapper

Red grouper on shrimp.

Matt's first black grouper.

Triggerfish Matt caught.

Matt's Biggest black grouper. When this fish came into my view over the side of the boat in the water, I felt deeply moved by its dignity and size.

My trolled red grouper.

By the way, I can't get that silly white marking under the sentence about small craft advisory off the page.

https://littonsfishinglines.blogspot.com/2012/07/cero-mackerel-groupers-snappers-bahia.html

Jack Crevalle in the Gulf

The Seafox Commander 22.5-foot center console is a nice craft, but we judged it wasn't for the high seas whipped by winds on Tuesday the 14th. True to habit developed in 2012, when we never got out to the reef, we progressed about a half mile beyond the bridge into the ocean before we turned back, convinced that it just wasn't safe. National Ocean and Atmospheric Association concurred, having issued a small craft advisor. We rode waves as high as six to eight feet from trough to crest. Out beyond the reef over depths exceeding a hundred feet, chances of capsizing might have been pretty good. I don't know for certain. But I heeded my fears.

So we rode back to camp. Old Wooden Bridge Cottages and Marina used to be called Old Wooden Bridge Fish Camp, which I prefer. To think my wife chose the formerly named destination makes me very proud of her. We got her in the boat and headed for the far edge of the Florida Keys backcountry. There where it exceeds the land masses furthest back at the face of the open Gulf of Mexico. Back of Big Pine, which is a big one that extends back there a way.

Clouds overhead meant rain gear kept handy, and some rain at about 80 degrees felt refreshing. Water temp 77. We roared eight miles over rough at 35 mph until the last little key came into view. It has a name, but I forget it. An uninhabited little spit but to mention the birds, mostly pelicans. Matt had become thoroughly engrossed in the Navionics app. By that use, he had discovered this deep water--as deep as 20 feet, a lot for these flats--with its sharp drops that especially interested us. I paid little attention to the device, never tried to use it on my mobile, but what he showed me is very detailed information, and his role as navigator was completely needed.

I guess it took three casts to the edge between shallow and deep. Fish on! And going, going...not gone. The run felt just like a four-pound hybrid striper's on Lake Hopatcong.

Weeks before, in the middle of all of my nervous posts about the week to come, Matt discovered a dude from Key West. He kayaks, produces riveting videos, and runs a lure production and sales operation. A very interesting life, looks like to us. All About the Bait is his website, and from it I ordered loads of swimbaits that imitate pilchards. He uses them--on occasion--for blackfin tuna in lieu of the speed jigs that work deep. By our guesswork, no other swimbait imitates this forage better. Since his banana jigs are pricey, I looked on Ebay for the same, and purchased a heavy bag of one-ounce leadheads that didn't boost my suitcase over United's weight limit. (Coming and going, they searched that suitcase, and I just laugh at what they must have thought--or felt, if they reached blindly. No blood stains.) Matt and I reasoned from the evidence we found online that these same jigs would serve as the perfect lure for Jack Crevalle. He hadn't opened Navionics, not until Monday night in the cottage, but we knew the spots were inshore channel edges.

Jack crevalle. I felt certain that's what I had on. I used my 8-foot Tica spinning rod and 20-pound Power Pro, a five-foot 20-pound fluorocarbon leader tied directly to that braid. Matt used a lighter rod and 10-pound test monofilament, making me feel edgy in a way he never suffered. It is that way. Every society, no matter how small, has its designated suffering men who must do their damn best never to give in to feeling victimized by it. It's necessary. Someone has to hold down the mainstay.

Sometimes it works to their mysterious advantage. Wink, wink. He is my son, but I don't feel sorry for his catching jacks of smaller size. Well. Slightly. Suffering man. There you have it. But I liked the fish I caught. And Jimmy Cliff sums it all: "I'm a struggling man. And I've got to move on."

Once mine was boated and photographed, Matt soon brought a 16-incher to hand. Mine was somewhere around three pounds. I had to choose. Cover more of this compelling space or stick to these fish. We moved on. Sooner than later, I caught one better two or two-and-a-half before we got to the last island, where Matt caught another less than two, when my feeling for his light tackle felt confirmed. There you have it. Suitable concern, suitable fish. Not that I don't want him to catch bigger. I can't describe now how much I wanted a five-pound hybrid for him on Hopatcong before he caught it. But by everything he told me, he was happy with what he caught.

Me? Nah, I wanted bigger. And it got on my line and ran just like a five-pound hybrid. I hoisted a jack crevalle I estimated at fully four pounds, and slipped it back rather than bothered with more photography. Hope got a little out of mind there, but that was a good fish. Bigger was not to come for the camera after all, but it was bigger I missed, not the mere image of it.

Tide or whatever put the fish off, us off, or both. We stormed back to Bogie Channel near the cottage, Trish feeling deeply uncomfortable as the boat lurched repeatedly, her son illegally at the wheel. (Or so I think there's some stipulation about the renter operating it. Or was it age 25 or older. So what. Which is the crime. The doing or the don't do. Age 25? I fished bass tournaments at 16.) Humphrey Bogart is a favorite. Key Largo is to the north, but Big Pine remembers. Old Bogie haunts the salt.

I don't remember if we took a break. Now I do, vaguely. Matt took a power nap, and then we doused shrimp in Bogie Channel. My first fish was real nice 12-inch mangrove snapper, fully two inches over keeper size, me exclaiming that this would be the best of Trish's meal, feeling fully expectant about filling out meat for all with more small stuff. Trish wasn't so childish, but I still felt it for the meal ahead. And we caught and kept grunts and porgies, which couldn't have tasted as good, and judging by the evidence of Trish's enthusiasm for her fresh snapper when she ate it--did not. But they were alright.

We sacrificed a small grunt, cutting off its eager head, and used the cut bait, hoping to catch grouper. Nothing but grunts resulted. As the sun got low, we switched to pilchard jigs and Matt hooked something--momentarily--beyond the edge over deep water. "It took the jig when it hit the water," Matt said. Cut the line.

Florida Kite

https://littonsfishinglines.blogspot.com/2012/07/florida-keys-bridge-fishing.html

Got Over to Round Valley

I put a base layer on, under wool pants and a sweater, and with my son left for The Sporting Life to buy a half dozen shiners and our new fishing licenses. I had two rods still rigged from last time we fished Round Valley, and the tackle for Matt to rig another when we got there, minus any Styrofoam to float a shiner on that third line. (We've caught trout on shiners without Styrofoam before, I think.)

Then I left him alone on that big point at Lot 2. I walked a quarter mile or so to a widely exposed area of former reservoir floor. This proved to be the photo shoot I promised myself last I was there. After I had spent about a half hour shooting, I realized, once I was back with Matt and Fred and the lines out for trout, that I could have used the 70-200mm lens to get a collapsing effect of space between rocks in the foreground and the North Tower distant. Or is it the South Tower? My directions aren't sure. I got really good shots of it today, but I'm saving them, just in case I need them for any magazine use.

I stood out there shooting for at least a half hour. Maybe it was nearly an hour. I got 80 shots. The wind seemed to rip right through me, but since I worked with my hands, I never noticed the redness and never felt the pain until I was done. Standing out in the cold wind made me play those photos pretty fast and loose, while I supported the camera on a monopod, but the quality surprised me after we got home.

Matt wasn't eager to quit. He would have stood out there in that cold another hour. He wanted a laker.

It was a sad end for me. Matt might have to spend another 60 hours at it, for all I know, to ever catch one of those fish. Maybe longer than that. In other words, it's likely he'll never catch one.

We rode over to the main launch for more shots. That's when it snowed as if it is really winter, but for about three or four minutes. I'm afraid it won't be long before it never snows in New Jersey. I felt surprised to see it today.

The snow squall was enough for a dusting. The boat is involved with the work at the dam. At least, I had seen it leave that area and go around the bend, powered by much more than 10 horsepower. I don't know what the construction vehicle is for. (This shot from the main launch area.)

Power True to My Original Intention

So we got word from United Airlines that we can load 115 linear inches for the fee of a second bag. By all appearances, I can get not only the two stand-up rods in the tube, but also my son's 10-foot surf rod. My wife bought a suitcase in which my four-piece 7-weight fly rod fits. I'm all but certain the rods I want to bring will fit in the tube extended to 82 linear inches, but I haven't loaded it just yet . It's a matter of arranging butts and big guides at intervals, tying the rods together while padding them, and then placing a single unit into the tube.

In the meantime, I've read a lot of articles and watched plenty of videos. I get more from the reading. Yes, the main danger is a big amberjack or big grouper--any kind of fish that will dive for bottom, instead of run straight. In 2007, I caught an 11-pound barracuda on eight-pound test and the St. Croix five-and-a-half-foot always cropping up in photos I post with bass in them. Thirty-nine inches long, that barracuda streaked away in a straight line, until it stopped with little line left on the spool. You see a 10/0 Mustad O'Shaunessey photographed above, the likes to rig a big ballyhoo or hunk of cut bait. It symbolizes the original conviction of mine gained during the 2007 trip, which I wrote about in the previous post. Heavy 80-pound test rigs we will likely use on the pool cue rods. Not that I want to hook a 10-foot shark. Definitely not.

Maybe not so likely that we will use heavy rigs much. I've turned over a lot of options--too many--while reading and watching. But we have power true to my original inspiration.

We leave on January 12th. I will leave my laptop home and won't post about the fishing until after the 19th, the date of our return. My nerves went haywire today. I'm feeling calm at home, though, having done some prep work before writing this post. The more you know, the more complicated it all gets, and there's only so much time, beginning on the Tuesday, before we have to return the boat at 4 p.m. on the Thursday.

Would it have been better to just buy stand-up rods, the heavy reels, 80-pound test? Instead of learning anything else, to have just relaxed with bait under the boat? I can assure you, that would have been plenty less expensive, and we probably would have caught fish, too, but it's not all about relaxation or even the catch, but how the catch comes about. I enjoyed plenty of relaxation in 2012. It's possible I will never again come so close to how I felt while living at the shore for 13 years of my youth. Island Time. Those years do live on within, but instead of trying to recapture what was, this time in Florida, I'm interested in something else. And looking at all the things I have arranged to arm our approach, so long as wind doesn't hamper us getting out there, it certainly will be something else.

Jigging and Stand-Up Rods

Preparing to spool line on reels for Florida. Stripping monofilament to put on heavier. Had a blast in 2012 catching small fish on six-pound test, but besides a back-up reel, going to use no lighter than 10.

Conversation with Matt, realized something. When I bought the Trevala jigging rods, I felt taken aback by the light construction, but these rods are rated 50- to 100-pound test. However, watching videos, I learned they do explode if you lift the tip and muscle into a big fish.

In 2007, Matt and I went far out to sea in a 19-foot boat powered by 90 horsepower. There I hooked something tremendous. My 11-foot surf rod felt like a noodle, its heavy power totally decimated. The run seemed to last three seconds, yet the fish took more than a hundred yards of line. Sixty feet of that line came back frayed. The fish dove into coral and across it. One of the video guys spoke of amberjacks doing just that.

On the boat with the severed line, I swore from the bottom of my being that we would be back with tackle sufficient to hold such a fish.

So this is terrible. We're compromised. An amberjack as big would do the same. Except that I did discover stand-up rods, after a pier veteran told me our jigging rods with the light tips were useless for trolley rigging, because we need the pool cue heaviness to hold a fish from the pier pilings. I already phoned United Airlines once, because by linear inches, my rod tube is over the limit. I will call again on Thursday and ask if four more inches--I can extend it--won't affect the $50.00 fine we already have to pay. If not, we might be able to fit our stand-up rods. We have heavy-duty Penn Squall 60 reels loaded with 80-pound test to muscle really big and powerful fish.

(Anyone with any info on airline nonsense, please comment. Oliver, how did you do? Email if easier.)

Stand-up rods won't jig. No problem. My big one hit a rigged ballyhoo anyhow. Most of the fish we see on video, the fish that hit the butterfly jigs, are less than 10 pounds. Some of them maybe 30. Balls of fun for sure, and the jigging is methodical, but I don't shun bait by much of a margin, and if jigs won't hook a 50-pound fish, why not?

Or that is, if on jigging rods we can't lift its head out of coral anyway.

Bahia Honda Channel

It was a Cocktail, Lenny

Happy New Year!


Fairy Tale New York

Low Water Try for Lake Trout

Matt and I arrived at The Sporting Life 8:34 a.m., and I bought a dozen shiners. On the way over to the reservoir we checked on Zach Merchant's bait shop, which I had heard closed. It has closed. A minute after we parked in Lot 2, Fred Matero drove in.

Fred had told me he wanted to talk to Matt about the Higgs boson, the so-called God Particle. Matt, a junior at Boston University, is funded by that school to create algorithms to interpret experimental data about that particle. They did most of their talking when I disappeared from Ranger Cove towards the main launch, to an area of the reservoir I knew would be exposed, although even with the water level as low as it is, I felt surprised at how extensively exposed. I returned to them after 45 minutes of walking and shooting photographs.

I also felt pleasantly surprised at how well I met nature on its own terms. I get jaded, not only by my job, but by writing every night and keeping up with chores. If an author tells you it's easy to write a book, I suggest you question the quality of the work. But I do find it very enjoyable. To the degree that I often feel like I want to do nothing else. 

But out there at Round Valley today, I was reminded that being in nature is a very different experience. I was reminded of the same, to lesser degree, when I fished with Jesse Sullivan recently, but I had forgotten about it. 

I got the news a couple of weeks ago that lake trout were getting caught, so that's why I came with the shiners, along with high hopes that Matt would catch his first. I phoned Fred and asked if he wanted any, when Matt and I arrived at The Sporting Life, but he preferred his mealworms, marshmallows, and Power Bait.

Nine lines out, none took a hit in fives hours of fishing. But we did see a small trout caught across from us.

Fred and Matt 

https://littonsfishinglines.blogspot.com/2016/02/shiners-for-lake-trout-why-not-power.html