Southwest Florida Fishing Report

Capt. Tony Petrella June 29th, 2008

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