Captain Brian (the Beast) told me a couple of weeks ago that if we were to wait for the wind to go West this fall, we might as well quit fishing. East to Northeast to Southeast and back to East. Not about to give up on fishing quite yet, Lil' Biscuit, Matt and I went looking for a little nearshore bite this morning.
One box of bait was all I had, so we stopped at a nearshore reef to catch some of the seasons finest large cigar minnows, jumbo goggle eyes and a few blue runners. The bait was so pretty that had it not been bumpy I would have taken it to the break to feed it to the blue water critters.
But bumpy it was, so at 20 knots we made our way to some favorite 20 mile bottoms to see if the gags had moved in yet. An hour later half of the bait is gone and we have caught nothing but some resident short gags.
Visions of cold beers and Sunday football stretched out on the sofa had to be exorcised. I'm getting old, but not old enough to lay down and let a skunk walk all over me.
15 miles later, the wind is still ruffling whitecaps and there is no grouper bite to be found. Plenty of reef donkeys though, eager to destroy our remaining live baits.
At this point I can muster no sympathy for my pathetic predicament, but I am starting to feel sorry for Jason and Matt, who are still giving it a solid effort. One more stop. Big spot, possibly well known, but should be good for a fish or two. As I'm creeping towards it, I run over a little bump a couple hundred yards inshore. Not much bottom, just a 2 foot lump, but a solid mark of bait. I move over to check out the nearby sea mount and my furuno lights up like a Christmas tree. Red marks patrolling just off the bottom tell me that the jacks are here too. I guess we'll be sportfishing today!
Something compels me to return to the little mark just inshore and avoid the grand central of reef fishes I am seeing.
Best anchor set of the day and once all alpha donkeys got their ass handed to them, we started seeing some quality:
The early NFL games are now well under way. We have less than a handful of baits left and we are finally on a bite. We quickly make the most of it with Lil' Biscuit and Matt leading the way. Before long we find use for the ice in the box:
Bait is soon spent and as I reach to bring in the light line (which has been soaking a squishy northern mack for at least an hour) I notice that it's moving very slowly at an angle against the current. Something is mouthing that nasty bait, but can't quite stomach it. I drop it on free spool, determined to show that "shark" who's boss. The treble hook bites and this cute little sailfish sticks his head out of the water and goes to shakin' 20 feet from the boat. Lil' Biscuit gets on the rod and does exactly as he was taught on the RUN OFF. "keep the rod tip up and don't stop reeling":
We dropped a ball on the anchor and give chase. The little sail is game and jumps at least a dozen different times, while Jason keeps on winding. We finally catch up to it. Matt bills the fish. It's Jason's first and although we typically leave them in the water, this one comes in the boat for a picture:
Matt nursing the tired sail back to life:
Tired, but happy, we picked up the ball and anchor and headed for home. There wasn't a word spoken during the almost two hour trip back. Everyone was happily deep in their own thoughts, I suppose.
Oh yes, we managed to not embarrass ourselves too bad with our "keeper" catch:
Like my good friend Slip says: no complaints, life is good!
SeaBiscuit


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