I’ll never forget my first kiss, the first time I got punched in the face or my first blackfin tuna on a jig. During winter 2006, I heard a rumor that Hatteras skipper Scott Warren was catching blackfin tuna on vertical jigs. In those days, few people fished Hatteras in winter, hardly anyone used vertical jigs and big blackfin were an anomaly. A few phone calls later, I was scheduled to fish on Warren’s legendary Big Tahuna.

Windblown and sea-smacked in the cold months, Hatteras is a seasonal ghost town. The tourists have long since left the isolated island off the coast of North Carolina, most of the charter boats are perched on blocks or visiting southern seas, and even the commercial fishing fleet is quiet.

The parking lot at Teach’s Lair Marina was empty that February morning when I pulled in a few hours before dawn. Only one boat was lit up at the dock, diesel engines already rumbling. I struggled to make out the faces of Warren and mate Kenny Koci (who later captained Big Tahuna) wrapped in sweatshirt hoods.

A few minutes later, Big Tahuna‘s anglers for the day piled onto the boat, and we were off through the pre-dawn twilight.

Known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic, Hatteras Inlet is no joke any season of the year. Winter is especially exciting. In addition to howling winds, a strong Gulf Stream current and huge rollers, the days are short and temperatures can be frigid. We started the day layered in fleece and nylon.

The 50-foot sportfisher rolled through the slop without complaint, carrying us to the fishing grounds — a series of seamounts that the locals call “rocks,” 22 miles southeast of Hatteras Inlet. Shortly after we passed over the color change from dirty-green inshore water to the deep-blue Gulf Stream, Warren slowed the boat, and the party emptied out of the comfort of the cabin.

Fishing Vertical Jigs for Blackfins

Big Tahuna motored in circles while the captain watched the fish finder. Six anglers lined the covering boards, 6-foot rods dangling foot-long metal jigs over the side. We waited for the signal to drop the lures as the boat rocked in the choppy seas. A sharp wind drove whitecaps into the side of the boat, dousing those in the cockpit with showers of warm spray on a cold day.

“Try this, six colors!” Warren called from the bridge. Six colors equates the depth at which he marked fish on the sonar to the regular changes in color on our braided lines. I flipped my high-speed conventional reel out of gear and watched the color on the depth-indicator line change six times, knowing that each color measures 30 feet.

I kicked the reel into gear and started jigging. Sticking the rod butt under my left arm, I turned the reel handle as fast as possible while jerking the rod tip. Three jerks into my retrieve, the jig was whacked in a fierce strike.

The slight rod tip bent to the water as line shredded off the spool. I moved the rod butt to my lower gut as the fish made its first run. When the line slowed, I began to retrieve. The fish continued to buck and run while I used every resource to gain line. As I jammed the rod above my groin, my forearm burned, and every run produced grunts and groans as the fish beat my ass.

One by one, the other anglers had hooked fish and now struggled similarly to gain line. In minutes, we were bobbing and weaving through crossed lines and quickstepping to stay standing. Koci raced from angler to angler while Warren called the dance from the bridge.

By the time I spotted the first silver flash of my tuna 10 feet below the boat, the whole bunch were cursing and laughing while slipping and sliding. Koci moved in to gaff my 20-pound blackfin and flip it into a fish box already bloody with spastic tuna.

The protocol was repeated for the next five hours. Make a drop; hook a burly blackfin; fight for your fish; dance, slide, yell and holler. The beefy blackfin were a perfect match for our medium-action jigging gear. The fish box began to fill up amid the fast-and-furious action. Bouncing around the mosh pit had me sweating and peeling off layers.

By the end of the day, the winds calmed and the chop turned to a rolling swell. Warren turned Big Tahuna toward Hatteras, and the crew ­shuffled into the cabin to lick wounds. I sported purple-and-black bruises; every muscle ached, and my hands were hamburger. I felt great.

Blackfin Tuna in the Atlantic Ocean

Blackfin tuna are the smallest member of the genus Thunnus (the true tunas: bluefin, yellowfin, bigeye and others); the world record stands at 49 pounds, 6 ounces, taken off Marathon, Florida, in 2006. The North Carolina state-record blackfin, taken in 2011, weighed 40 pounds, 11 ounces.

They might smaller than other tunas, but they’re prolific and tasty. Each winter, blackfin gather in the warm Gulf Stream water as it swirls over the rocky edge of the Continental Shelf, gorging on huge clouds of baitfish caught in the considerable current.

Also during winter, the cold Labrador Current pushes down the Atlantic coast from the north, colliding with warm, clear Gulf Stream water from the south. Where the two currents meet, the water temperature can differ up to 20 degrees.

On the cold side of the break, the water is dark, dirty green; the warm side appears clear blue. The current and waves are calmer on the cold side. In the stream, the current can run to 4 knots, whipping the sea into a frenzy.

Where the Gulf Stream pushes over offshore rocks and ledges, bait and predators line up to play out the food chain. Amberjack, false albacore (little tunny) and huge sharks mix in the melee, in addition to blackfin tuna. Amberjack and albacore put up a good fight, but they aren’t locally favored for eating. Most are released.

To avoid sharks, tuna anglers need to work fish to the boat quickly. That can be tough to do with a blackfin as they pull and run without mercy. Dally on the retrieve, and a man‑eater will eat the tuna.

Tuna in Changing Conditions

As Hatteras boats explored the winter blackfin bite, they discovered more than one way to skin that cat. Over the past 20 years, blackfin jigging has waxed and waned. Some years, the bite is hot; other years, it’s cold.

Changing conditions also affect how anglers target tuna. Capt. Andy Piland on Good Times, a custom 47 Carolina sport-fisher, has made a science of catching blackfin tuna. His former partner Capt. Tim Hagerich, who now owns Black Pearl Charters, insists: “You have five ways to catch a blackfin, and you’d better be ready to use each.” On any given day, Hatteras skippers might troll ballyhoo, work a greenstick, fly a kite, drop jigs or throw topwaters.

Fishing over the years, I’ve done it all with these captains. Sometimes we fish three or four tactics in one day. Changing tactics allows the crew to stay on the blackfin bite through winter and into spring. As the season progresses, the tuna seem to get more finicky.

Early in winter, blackfin feed deep in the water column, where a vertical jig matches the menu. The best jig bite starts in January and runs through March, when the water is dingier.

Read Next: Tunas of the World — An Illustrated Guide

In early spring, the water over the rocks clears and the fish turn their attention to chasing flying fish, and local skippers switch to trolling baits. While jigging for blackfin tuna has a certain maso­chis­tic appeal, the biggest fish often come to a trolled bait. “We catch blackfin up to 30 pounds trolling, when they won’t bite the jig,” Hagerich says. “The tuna will jump clear out of the water to grab a flying fish 5 feet in the air.” The key to fooling the tuna is getting a bait into the air.

“When it’s rough as hell, we catch blackfin on ballyhoo,” Hagerich says, trolling Sea Witches with medium ballyhoo at 6 knots so the lures leap and splash from wave to wave. When it’s calm, the fish respond to a rubber squid dangling from a greenstick. By late May, the water is clear and warm, and the blackfin become pickier. “The kite works best in the clearest water,” Hagerich explains.

Suspending two rubber flying fish from the kite line is the sneakiest way to fool blackfin. Hagerich cites many days when he spent hours jigging, trolling ballyhoo, and even fishing the greenstick until the crew put up the kite, and trophy blackfin suddenly exploded out of the water.

Battling a Monster Blackfin Tuna

Excited by the prospect of a near-world-record-size blackfin, I enthusiastically jumped aboard Good Times. Riding in the bridge, my teeth clenched tight and hands gripped the hardtop as Piland navigated the boat through the shallow shoals and crashing breakers of Hatteras Inlet.

Like professional guides, weekend warriors can’t pick their days, so I found myself rolling and pitching an hour and a half to the fishing grounds. Choppy, windswept rollers are tough on fishermen, but tuna treat rough water like an amusement park as they leap out of the water, chasing flying fish through the air.

Seconds after Piland slowed the boat, Hagerich deployed a dozen rods pulling Sea Witches with ballyhoo. In minutes, chunky blackfin began exploding on the baits. Piland continued to troll as line after line went down. Before he pulled back the throttles, most of the rods were bent over and bucking.

While the anglers cranked in big blackfin, Hagerich worked to keep the lines straight, gaffing fish and rigging baits. When I spotted tuna skying out of the water 10 yards off the stern, Hagerich grabbed a hefty spinning rod and shoved it into my hands. “Cast!” he ordered.

I launched the popper off the stern, somehow managing to clear the lines, outriggers, teasers and halyards. The 8-inch popper splashed down in the middle of the tuna air show. I pulled the rod and cranked the handle. The plug chugged, throwing a cup of water. I cranked; the lure popped again. On the third turn of the handle, a burly tuna flew out of the water to descend on the plug.

Excited, I hauled back on the rod — and yanked the plug out of the tuna’s mouth. “You got to let him take it,” Piland said, laughing from the bow. Feeling the pressure of 16 eyes watching my moves, I chugged the plug again, and the fish attacked.

This time, I slowed and dropped the rod tip to the fish. The line came tight, but I gave the fish a breathless pause before lifting the rod and putting on the pressure. The blackfin responded with another blistering run, jabbing the rod butt into my armpit and forcing me to cross the deck until my thighs slammed into the covering board.

The rest of the crew cleared the trolling lines, leaving me to battle a big blackfin tuna. As Hagerich shouted orders, Piland worked to keep the boat straight and my line in the clear. I put on the pressure, wedging the rod butt into my groin and stretching my forearms for maximum power to winch the stubborn fish from the depths. I got my first good look at the beefy tuna at the same time the fish had its first good look at me. My muscles had redlined, but the tuna found more fight in the tank; it turned and rushed for the darkness, line again disappearing from the reel.

Eventually, with the silver-and-black missile boatside, Hagerich reached out with the gaff, and swung a 25-pound blackfin tuna over the gunwale and into the fish box. My arms were like Jell-O and pudding filled my legs as the tuna continued to kick its tail like a jackhammer until the lid was closed. Piland quickly pushed the throttles forward, and Hagerich deployed the rigs.

No rest for the weary, but there’s no better way to stay warm in winter off Hatteras than pulling on blackfin tuna.

About the Author
Ric Burnley is an angler, editor, author and teacher who lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia. When he isn’t fishing or writing, he’s in the classroom teaching at-risk teenagers that the pen is mightier than the sword.

The post Catch Big Blackfin Tuna Off Hatteras appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Determined to test the legendary winter wahoo fishing out of Venice, Weston and I had been planning this trip for more than two years. We struggled to find fishable weather during the short time window of January and February, when big wahoo are found at Gulf of Mexico oil rigs some 15 to 30 miles off Venice.

Deepwater Rigs in Sight

Finally, Mother Nature was on our side, with a forecast of 2- to 3-foot seas. As we crossed into the Gulf through the Southeast Pass of the Mississippi River, a significant chop, seemingly left over from the previous week of windy conditions, greeted us.

Nonetheless, the ride in the high-bow catamaran was surprisingly comfortable, and with four 300-hp Yamahas pushing the boat at a cruising speed of 45 knots, we found ourselves approaching the first rigs within 30 minutes once outside the mouth of the Mississippi.

We found conditions marginal for wahoo at those first rigs, with greenish-brown water at 58 degrees F. Wahoo normally appear around Gulf rigs where water temperatures run at least 62 degrees and less than 86. Within that range, significant temperature breaks attract wahoo, which often frequent the colder side of such breaks.

“I look not only for temperatures more than 60 degrees,” McKnight says, “but also signs of baitfish on the big Simrad sounder. Some rigs are better at holding wahoo than others, so I spend most of my time on those.”

Despite the cool water at the first rig, McKnight felt it was worth a shot, and we set out a trolling spread consisting of two 30-wide Shimano Tiagras and two Shimano Talica II 25s, all spooled with 60-pound braid and 100-pound mono top shots. The skipper ran Rapala X-Rap Magnums, deep divers designed to reach 25 to 30 feet at 7 to 8 knots.

Most large diving plugs with large lips, designed to run consistently deep, will catch wahoo in the Gulf off Venice. Many pros favor Rapala X-Rap Magnum 30s, as does McKnight. “I find that these perform most consistently in catching wahoo here,” he says. Other popular diving lures include Mann’s Stretch 25+ and 30+, Bomber’s Saltwater Grade Certified Depth, Nomad DTX Minnow, and Yo-Zuri’s Sashimi 3-D Magnum.

Got Jacks? Move On!

It seemed that McKnight’s hunch paid off when, during the second pass, we hooked a fish that made a spirited run, though not with the characteristic drag-melting pace of a wahoo. After a 20-minute tug of war, we released a bicep-building brute of a jack crevalle, a good 30 pounds. We quickly cranked in the lures and moved on to try several more rigs with little success.

When we moved to rigs farther offshore, we found water conditions that were significantly better. Water temperatures here were around 68 degrees and offered the clear, deep-blue color we had hoped for. As we rolled up on a high, narrow rig, McKnight pointed to the depth finder, saying, “That’s what we’re looking for.” Lighting up the screen were long, slender images of fish stacked like cordwood in 80 to 150 feet of water.

As soon as our plugs passed the first leg of the rig, the right long rod whipped down and began vibrating violently as the reel screamed, the mono top shot disappearing in an instant.

I jumped from the back of the center console, where I’d been leaning, to grab the rod from the right gunwale holder, then watched braid melt away — 100, 200, 300 and approaching 400 yards. I glanced back at McKnight, a quizzical look on my face, silently asking if we might have to chase down this fish. The captain, with the calm voice of experience, said: “That’s a nice fish! Let’s get him away from the rig.”

Day’s First Wahoo is a Whopper

McKnight sped up slightly, angling away from the rig, until we had cleared the fish. Pulling fish at a slight angle away from the structure keeps them from reacting violently, as they’re likely to do when pulled at a severe angle away from the path they’re swimming.

McKnight’s maneuver kept the line pressure moving the fish’s head away from the rig and discouraged it from swimming into rig structure and cutting the line. Once we’d coaxed it away from the sharp legs of the platform, it was up to me. As I regained line, I could feel the strength and weight of the fish. Knowing wahoo are famous for vicious head shakes, and that they can easily unbutton themselves from treble hooks on plugs, I tried to bring the fish to the boat as smoothly as possible.

I could not imagine this fish having the energy to do anything more after the long first run of the fight. After 15 minutes, I had it within 100 yards. I thought the end was in sight, but the wahoo had other ideas, and scorched another run of 150 yards or so.

But this run proved different from the first, neither as fast nor as sustained; I could tell the fish was wearing down. With the same steady pressure, I continued to gain line until the wahoo appeared from the depths, about 5 feet from the boat. McKnight smoothly gaffed the fish and, in a single motion, lifted it over the rail.

Break Out the Bright Lures

On the second pass by the same rig, we hooked up again and landed another wahoo around the century mark, which hit the deck and found its way to an ice bath in the fish box. The skipper decided to change the trolling setup slightly, adding a pink Yo-Zuri Bonita on the right short.

Heavy, lipless, fast-vibrating lures like the Bonita and the Braid Marauder are designed to troll at a wide range of speeds, and McKnight wanted to give the wahoo a slightly different presentation with a tightly vibrating lure in the spread. Pulled on a spread close to the boat, just outside the prop wash, such lures make a great complement to long lines pulling lipped lures.

Capt. McKnight says: “Generally the brightest colors catch the most fish. It’s best to vary color patterns and types of lures to find the most effective combinations. If you’re in an area where you’re marking fish or where you know wahoo frequent due to current and structure, don’t be afraid to change color and lures to find what works best.”

At the end of the day, the long lines with Rapalas and similar lipped plugs caught the most fish. McKnight trolls these at a speed slower than I’m used to while fishing for these speed demons. Our trolling speed never topped 7 knots. “High-speed trolling just hasn’t proven to be as successful in the Gulf as it seems to be in the Atlantic,” McKnight says.

When an angler hooks a wahoo on a plug, it’s important to judge how the fish reacts to pressure and, if possible, discourage the violent head shakes for which these surgically toothed critters are famous. When some of the wahoo I hooked that day fought straight up and down, I could feel them opening their jaws and viciously shaking their head. Luckily, most stayed connected.

An Expert Trolls the Rigs Strategically

Combine the experience and skills of a seasoned captain with a little luck, and you can enjoy a phenomenal experience fishing winter wahoo out of Venice. McKnight fishes the rigs methodically. He starts by carefully determining the areas of a rig that hold fish and trolls plugs over them.

“Wahoo are ambush predators,” McKnight explains. “They like to attack from below, so something swimming directly overhead triggers that instinct.”

In terms of where wahoo are likely to be around a rig, I noticed we marked them mostly on the up-current side stayed on the up-current side of the structure. “Wahoo are definitely affected by current and feed more aggressively in faster current,” the skipper explains. He focuses his efforts where the current changes direction laterally, such as around the structure of an oil rig, or vertically, such as around significant depth changes that force currents upward.

We trolled around several other rigs without any action before returning to the rig where we had caught the largest fish of the day. As the Simrad “chirped” away, images of the wahoo we had seen earlier reappeared, though the fish now seemed more spread out. On multiple passes, we failed to get bit, so McKnight decided to change the direction and angle (relative to the rig) of the troll. Sure enough, on the next pass over the area, pulling lures in the opposite direction at a 30-degree angle to the side of the rigs, and passing within 25 yards of the up-current leg, we hooked up to wahoo and even some bycatch — a nice yellowfin tuna.

End of a Great Trip

Weston and I ended up with a fish box full of wahoo. One unusual aspect of our trip was an almost unheard-of 100 percent success rate in landing hooked fish. The trip back to the dock was quick. We made it back to the Southeast Pass of the Mississippi in 30 minutes, cruising at 48 knots. Unfortunately, we hit something just under the surface while running, knocking out the lower unit on one of the four outboards. The boat still made great time on three engines.

The great staff at Venice Marina cleaned our fish, setting aside a few wahoo steaks. We took them upstairs to the restaurant, where the chef grilled the wahoo to perfection — a fitting culmination to a fantastic day of winter wahoo fishing in Venice.

Tips for Planning a Winter Wahoo Trip to Venice

Give Yourself Time

The key to fishing in the winter, with the weather so unpredictable and many days unfishable, is to be flexible. I had cleared my schedule to have a six-day period in total to find a weather window. Secure at least a three-day booking with a charter captain in Venice who will target wahoo. We decided to book four days to ensure we could get at least two fishable days.

Look for a Package Deal

Venice is rather remote; there are houseboats available in Venice proper (the Lighthouse Lodge is about 10 minutes north of town). Most captains will book a package trip that includes lodging in a houseboat, condo, or one of the nearby lodges.

Stop En Route for Food

There are limited grocery options locally, so it’s best to buy essentials you’ll need before you arrive in Venice.

Stay in Contact with your Captain Beforehand

I called McKnight four days prior to our trip to get an idea about the weather and texted or called every day up to the first day of the trip. Because of unfishable offshore conditions, we moved the trip two days ahead and made it happen. When the weather offshore isn’t cooperating, you can experience some great inshore fishing for redfish. Many captains can substitute an inshore trip for a blown-out offshore one, many times at a lower rate.

How to Bring Fish Home

You’re likely to bring back wahoo from days you do get offshore. The Venice Marina folks packed the fish in flight-approved, insulated containers with cold packs to check on our Southwest flight from New Orleans. We neatly taped the boxes shut to keep the contents from opening in handling and flight. However, the TSA folks dismissed our handiwork, cutting the tape to check out the contents. We couldn’t talk them out of it, but they were kind enough to retape the containers. If you plan to fly fish home, make sure you allow additional time for the TSA screening. For us, the additional time was a small inconvenience for great wahoo steaks we had when we arrived back home.

Louisiana’s Wahoo Season

Areas like Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, and San Salvador, in the Bahamas, have gained attention for the size of their wahoo, but what about the best bets for wahoo in U.S. waters? A National Marine Fisheries Service study showed that the catch rate for wahoo was the highest by far off Louisiana’s coast, with one wahoo caught for every five hours of offshore trolling. That rate is five times higher than catch rates off the North Carolina coast, and six times higher than off South Florida’s coast.

Venice wahoo are typically caught in the largest numbers during January and February, when they average 50 to 60 pounds, which is larger than in the spring months. You’ll find most charter captains who fish out of Venice recommend January and February as peak months for targeting wahoo, although the fish are also caught with some frequency from March through June, but only sporadically after that, until winter.

The post The Gulf’s Wintertime Wahoo Wonderland appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

People who complain that South Florida doesn’t enjoy a change of seasons don’t fish the annual fall mullet run.

To anglers from Stuart to Key Largo, nothing signals that fall has arrived like the migration of these baitfish. Silver and black mullet move south in enormous schools along the Atlantic coast, all the while dodging a host of predators such as snook, tarpon, jacks, sharks, Spanish mackerel and bluefish. October marks the prime time to fish the mullet run, both offshore and inshore.

The Live-Bait Game Plan

Anglers never know what they might catch from one cast to the next. They don’t even need live mullet to catch the gamefish species. Half a mullet, topwater plugs, spoons, and soft-plastic bait imitations can be as effective if not more.

Capt. Chris Murray, of Stuart, usually nets several dozen mullet wherever he sees the baitfish pushing water. After catching bait, he cruises around until he spots another mullet school. Then he closely watches to see what the baitfish are doing and what’s feeding on them.

Tarpon often jump completely out of the water, then come crashing back into the middle of the school. Snook hang below the school and suck in mullet with an audible pop. Jacks charge into the school and send mullet flying.

Murray likes to fish live mullet on a 7-foot, light- to medium-action spinning rod with a 4000-size reel spooled with 20-pound braided line. He usually attaches a 40-pound fluorocarbon leader with a 3/0 circle hook and clips an indicator float to the leader, which allows him and his anglers to keep track of the bait.

“I vary my leaders. I like to actually start lighter,” Murray says. “Normally I rig up two that are 25-pound, two that are 30, two that are 40. When I know what kind of fish are there and what kind of heat I have to put on them, normally 40. If they’re short snook, 25 or 30 is fine.”

When drifting or slow-trolling, he hooks a mullet through the upper lip and casts it to the edge of a submerged oyster bar, which snook, tarpon and other species use as ambush spots. Murray then opens the bail of the reel and slowly lets out line.

Jacks Are Wild

On one trip I took in the St. Lucie River with Murray and Anthony Javarone, we cast out, and moments later I felt my mullet get very nervous. Suddenly violent splashes erupted, and whatever had scared my mullet nailed Javarone’s bait.

Following Murray’s instruction to let the fish swim for a few seconds before closing the bail and reeling tight, Javarone hooked up to what turned out to be a 15-pound jack. The fish took Javarone from one end of Murray’s bay boat to the other before it finally tired.

“Those big jacks are great practice for people who want snook and tarpon,” Murray says. “They’re a guide’s best friend. They just give you every chance to develop your rhythm.”

When jacks, tarpon and Spanish mackerel successfully raid the schools for a meal, they often stun and maim a few of the baits, which fall to the sea floor. That’s when fishing a mullet head on the bottom can be extremely effective.

Snook on Artificials

Fishing around the rocks at the mouth of Stuart’s St. Lucie Inlet, Capt. Greg Snyder uses a D.O.A. plastic shrimp to catch all sizes of snook. He fishes the shrimp on a spinning outfit with 30-pound braided line and a 40-pound fluorocarbon leader.

“They use the rocks as a trap,” Snyder says of the snook. “The bait hits the rocks and gets confused, and the snook take advantage of it.”

Let the shrimp drift with the current and be aware of any taps or hesitation in the drift, because that means a snook has taken the lure. “Let the tide do the work, and keep in contact with the shrimp,” he says, “because you need to be able to set the hook when they eat.”

Why would a snook eat a shrimp when mullet are abundant? I posed that question to D.O.A. luremaker Mark Nichols. “During the first of the mullet run, the fish are all over the mullet,” he says. “But after three weeks of eating mullet, they’re ready for something different.”

I witnessed that fishing with Nichols in the north fork of the St. Lucie River on the last half of a falling tide. His flats skiff was surrounded by mullet and rolling tarpon, but after we threw some D.O.A. soft-plastic mullet imitations such as a Bait Buster and a TerrorEyz without a bite, Nichols switched us to D.O.A. glow shrimp.

Standing at the front of the boat, we waited until a tarpon rolled within casting distance. Then we cast the shrimp just ahead of the tarpon. Instead of steadily twitching the shrimp back to the boat, Nichols advises working it slowly.

“You want the shrimp to go down,” he says. “Then snap the rod and jerk the shrimp sharply, but don’t crank the reel and move the shrimp away. You want it to stay right where the fish was.”

Picture it in these terms: Here’s a shrimp, slowly sinking in the water. Suddenly it jumps up, then sinks right back down. The next time it jumps, thinking it might get away, the tarpon eats it. Using that technique, Nichols and I enjoyed about two dozen tarpon bites.

“I think it’s just easy for them to eat a shrimp,” he says. “They have to work hard to catch a mullet. It doesn’t take anything for them to catch a shrimp.”

Read Next: Mesmerizing Drone Video Shows Tarpon Attacking Mullet

Two other advantages of fishing an artificial shrimp around a mullet school: Bait stealers don’t peck at a plastic shrimp like they do a live shrimp, and Nichols can fish his shrimp exactly how he wants.

To make a D.O.A. shrimp more appealing to a fish keying on a school of mullet, Nichols fishes it below the school or on the edge of the school. That makes the shrimp look vulnerable, which makes it an easy target.

“If you’re not catching fish with a shrimp, you’re fishing it too fast,” Nichols says. “No matter how slowly you think you’re fishing it, fish it slower.”

The post Fishing Florida’s Fall Mullet Run appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Even as Capt. Lori Hall wrapped the anchor line around a cleat, I cast across a canal a short run from the boat ramp at Simmons Park in Ruskin, Florida. As my Yo-Zuri 3D inshore twitchbait touched down about a foot from the grassy bank, in inches-deep water, I quickly began a jerk-pause retrieve to keep it off the bottom. About three jerks into it, something smashed the lure, and a small snook sailed out of the water. Hardly a trophy, but still, a pretty nice payoff for the first cast of that fall day.

Hall, who runs Ladyfish Charters in Tampa Bay, fishes from Apollo Beach to the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. She had promised we’d find willing snook on the low flood tide, and so we did. That was our main quarry of the morning, and we caught a bunch. The twitchbait proved a hot ticket for quite a few snook—and many missed strikes—while live pilchards (more properly known as scaled sardines) also accounted for plenty of action. Hall’s generous live chumming near the boat certainly didn’t hurt.

Fishing Spots in Tampa Bay

A bit farther south from where we fished is the Terra Ceia Aquatic Preserve, also a great spot for snook. I’ve fished there successfully with angler Jose Chavez, a fishing industry vet, where we caught snook in the virtually hidden openings of creeks and bays.

“That’s one of my favorite areas to fish,” agrees retired guide Capt. Ray Markham, out of St. Petersburg. “The habitat in Terra Ceia has been relatively untouched by development and the encroachment of people, with lush mangroves and oyster bars in the clean water,” Markham says.

With winds light, we switched during the afternoon from fishing mangrove-rimmed bays and canals to drifting grass flats in the open bay in 3 or 4 feet of water. The turtle grass offered a welcome change from many areas of the beleaguered Indian River Lagoon on the east side of the state that I was used to. When it comes to water quality and habitat, Tampa Bay has really cleaned up its act over the past. But Tampa Bay waters do face new water quality issues, as do many parts of Florida.

Over a couple of days, we fished only a small ­portion of Tampa Bay; I felt we could have spent many days doing so and not have begun to explore even that limited area. In fact, Tampa Bay is Florida’s largest open-water estuary, covering more than 400 square miles. The main shipping channel is a busy place, since Tampa is one of the 10 largest ports in the nation. Fortunately, we remained far from that sort of traffic.

Tarpon Fishing Tampa Bay

The high flooding tide meant good conditions, and while Hall often finds redfish ­readily available over these flats, we didn’t locate them that afternoon. But from her high vantage point standing at the Blue Wave’s second station, Hall did spot a big bonnethead shark cruising the ­shallows, in its typical zigzag fashion, just off the bow.

“Bonnethead, 10 o’clock!” she called out, and my daughter, Rachel, visiting from Virginia, dropped a pilchard just ahead of the fish, about 40 feet out. It looked like the shark would pass nearby but keep moving on when it suddenly turned 90 degrees and pounced on its newfound prize. The circle hook bit where it was supposed to, and the fish offered a real test for a tiny Daiwa with 10-pound braid and St. Croix Legend XTreme Inshore rod, making repeated runs around the boat.

Chavez focuses much of his attention on snook in the lower bay, particularly during outgoing tides, when he works mangrove points, oyster bars, docks and potholes. “Snook basically set up on prime ambush points where there’s a good current,” he says. Find places where water has to funnel through a choke point on an ebb tide, and “you can expect snook to be there waiting for an easy meal.”

Read Next: Tarpon Fishing Tips

As much fun as snook are, Hall—who has been fishing Tampa Bay since the mid-’80s—cites tarpon as her favorite of all the bay’s many gamefish species. And she’s caught some monsters, including “the greatest catch of my life, a 214-pound tarpon.” Once in a while, Murphy takes a nap, as on that day when ESPN happened to be on board filming a show and caught it all.

For tarpon, Markham’s a summertime guy. While even then it can be hit or miss, the action can also be “insane—especially when you see pods of fish coming right at the boat,” he says. “Big-game fishing in the shallows.” Then, he focuses on days around new and full moons when big tides flush crabs and shrimp out of the bays. Similarly, Chavez likes May and June for tarpon, when they might move in by the thousands, he says.

Fishing All Year Long in Tampa Bay

And while Markham is also a snook devotee, he says: “In the fall, I love fishing reds. They can be big and, like bulldogs, they just don’t give up. When the water temperature in the bay drops to between 72 and 78 degrees, with oxygen levels strong, that’s prime topwater time.”

Of course, jacks of various sizes patrol the bay, and when they’re on the attack, can be a blast. They gave us some good battles on our second day out with Hall. Somewhat less likely, a nice flounder surprised one angler. Not many Tampa Bay fishermen target flounder, mostly catching them incidentally, but they’re here. “Find good sand-and-shell or grassy habitat with channels and potholes in moving water, and you’re likely to find flounder much of the year,” Markham says.

With so much variety when it comes to ­gamefish species, the bay offers worthwhile action in all seasons. Chavez does indeed fish it year-round but says winter’s his preferred season. That’s when he really likes fishing the negative low tides, “especially during the start of the incoming. That really narrows down the places where the fish can be, and you get to transition up the flat to mangrove shorelines with them as the tide comes in.” Chavez acknowledges that conditions in the dead of winter are often cold and breezy, “but the fishing’s great, and it’s uncrowded because most people don’t want to deal with the discomfort. It really is my favorite time of year.”

Catching Two Redfish at the Same Time

These productive waters harbor many surprises, and Markham recounts his most indelible Tampa Bay memory: “One morning I was fishing a small cove within lower Tampa Bay using ultralight spinning tackle with 6-pound Ande tournament monofilament and a tandem-rigged jig. As I gazed down the shoreline, I saw what looked like a school of huge jack crevalle racing up the shore, eating everything in its path. Mullet were flying, schools of glass minnows were showering, and everything was getting devoured. I waited until the school came just within casting range and made a throw ahead of the lead fish.

“Instantly I was hooked up, and my 70-yard spool of line disappeared at a quick rate. I started the outboard to give chase and get back line. As I did, I got close enough to see that I hadn’t hooked a jack crevalle but a big redfish that looked to be at least 34 inches. When it saw the boat, it bolted back toward the school.

“As I followed it to regain line, the fish caught up to the school, and I felt a big thump on the line. Instantly the fish was ripping off drag again, and then the line went limp and I cranked hard, ­realizing the fish was running toward the boat.

“That’s when I saw that I now had two fish on my line—and the second fish was even larger. But the tandem rig soon parted, and I was left with only one fish—the larger one. I fought it for another 15 minutes or so before I finally subdued it, taking a measurement before I released her. She was a 46-incher with a massive girth. She bottomed out both scales on my boat, so I don’t know the weight, but to this day it remains the biggest redfish I have ever landed, and on 6-pound ­tournament mono at that!”

Planning A Fishing Trip to Lower Tampa Bay

Who: We fished with Capt. Lori Hall, Ladyfish Charters (ladyfish​charters.com, 813-967-5032). Good knowledge, good rig, good gear; easy to recommend. Special kudos to Hall for her people skills—her patience and great sense of humor make her an exceptional guide for families who want to fish the bay.

Where: We stayed on Anna Maria Island, which guards the yawning entrance to Tampa Bay at its southern end, due west of Bradenton. There, we spent several days and nights at Waterline Resort (waterlineresort.com) in one of its Island Suites, and were thoroughly impressed. The suite was provisioned more like a luxury home than a vacation unit, and the kitchen had everything we could possibly want or need. Comfortable and quiet, the suite made us regret having to leave. Also, the resort staff raised “cheery” to a whole new level I hadn’t seen; if these folks don’t truly love their jobs, they’re world-class actors.

More: The Tampa Bay/St. Petersburg area has much to offer for extended trips or larger groups. You can explore it all online at visittampabay.com and visit ­stpeteclearwater.com.

The post Fish Tampa Bay for Inshore Action appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Leave the micro-skiff at home and keep the light-tackle outfits in the garage. If you want to catch bull redfish, think deep water and make sure to bring out the big guns.

The differences between adult and puppy red drum are so vast, you might as well treat the two like different animals. You’ll need to if you want to catch bull reds. Adult redfish lose their endearing adolescent spots, replaced with armor for scales and a caricature mouth only a carp could love. Their demeanor is bullish, using current and mass to fight down-and-dirty. And their meat turns from refined to tough, mirroring their aggressive mentality.

Bull redfish are the “big uglies” TV football commentators always talk about. Although “big ugly” is truly a nickname for a different drum — the black drum. Want to know how to catch these red drum? Conquering them requires sound technique, strength, specialized tactics and a keen eye. Learn how some of the best bull-beaters in the biz stay on top of their game.

Where to Catch Bull Redfish

Bull redfish inhabit waters from Chesapeake Bay through the Gulf of Mexico, making this illustrious species readily available to huge numbers of anglers. Their pervasiveness is outstanding but requires anglers to understand local population habits.

In the Chesapeake, May through September is the optimal time to target big reds in nearshore waters. Giant reds school up in spring outside Hatteras and Ocracoke inlets before moving into Pamlico Sound for the summer spawning season. In fall, those same reds leave en masse and stay along the beaches until water temperatures plummet, pushing them offshore for winter. The Cape Lookout fall run lasts into December and sometimes all through a mild winter.

In Florida, northeast bull redfish start spawning in deeper sections of the St. Johns River during the first big moon in August. In the Gulf, Tampa anglers head to deeper waters near Fort Desoto, off St. Pete, next to the Skyway Bridge and near Egmont Key in fall and early spring. Florida Panhandle action starts right around Halloween and lasts all the way to February, with the most productive time in November and December near the beaches. These large schools of redfish can even be found off the coast of Louisiana and Texas, and range from 500 to 5,000 fish.

Your fishing location will dictate the season to fish, but once you’ve figured out when, and a general where, the task turns to locating the red drum schools.

Find the Hot Spot for Bull Redfish

Locating bull redfish can be difficult, so consider every tool in your arsenal.

“Sometimes I’ll look for indicator species such as cownose rays to lead me to schools of redfish,” says Capt. Tyler Nonn, of Chesapeake Bay, Virginia. “After the fish move out of their early-season patterns, anglers can bottomfish outside the inlets, shoals and ledges in up to 50 feet of water.”

Concentrations of menhaden near drop-offs and ledges of a shoal are a good sign to look for on your bottom machine, especially at the mouth of the Chesapeake. Later in the year, fish can be marked on bottom machines under and around schools of small bluefish or spinner sharks.

“Red drum have a very unique ­signature, much like amberjack,” says Capt. Brian Horsley, of Oregon Inlet, North Carolina. “They will show on your bottom machine as layers, and sometimes they’ll mark diagonally. Deep reds are difficult to target; most anglers actually find them while fishing for something else.”

I had my first run-in with Panama City Beach bull redsyears ago during a paddle-craft media event. Only a few of us had ever fished off the beaches in kayaks, and we were content to target red snapper and groupers with metal flutter jigs. After gathering over good marks on the bottom machine, we dropped down quickly to see what was there. To our surprise, all three of us soon landed 20-plus-pound red drum. That’s when I learned that if you can find the reds bunched up, they’ll eat just about anything.

Redfish in the Panhandle and Tampa areas start to show in strong numbers only when the water temperatures hit the mid-60s, says Capt. John Rivers, who’s fished both areas extensively but now guides in Tampa.

“One easy way to find bull reds is to look for birds diving on the large schools of baitfish that the redfish have pushed to the surface,” says Rivers. “Another way is to have a reliable bottom machine with side imaging that can mark fish when there’s no surface activity.”

In Jacksonville, Capt. Kirk Waltz searches the mouth of the St. Johns River as far upriver as EverBank Field (home of the Jaguars) downtown.

“I begin my search by watching the bottom recorder for distinct breaks on the edges of deep water adjacent to the shipping channel,” says Waltz. “These bottom-contour changes look almost like offshore ledges but can also be sloping drops from deep to shallow water.”

Waltz believes the reds use ledges to block current to conserve energy but also to provide ambush spots as bait washes overhead. Most of these spots are from 29 to 46 feet deep.

Best Lures and Baits for Bull Redfish

Your redfish tackle can make all the difference. The closest thing to a guaranteed bite, especially after locating fish, is to bait with fresh bunker or blue crab on the bottom. Terminal tackle is a simple three-way swivel system — the same rig many anglers use to bottomfish offshore — using 60- to 80-pound ­fluorocarbon, a 5/0 to 7/0 circle hook and a loop to interchange bank sinkers from 6 to 10 ounces.

“I like fresh blue crabs, mullet, pogies or ladyfish chunks,” says Waltz. “Chumming can be very effective. I like to find a spot and deploy four rods using two different baits to see what their preference is. A good soak of 15 to 30 minutes is preferred to allow the scent track to feed back in a light current.”

For the best redfish lures, captains Horsley and Rivers both prefer bucktails ranging from 1 to 8 ounces. “When they are schooled up, they are not too smart and will eat just about anything in their face,” jokes Horsley. Rivers dresses his bucktails with plastics. “I’ll use a 1½-ounce Spro bucktail jig in white, pink or chartreuse with a 4-inch soft-plastic tail,” he says. “Some guys use a plain 1-ounce jig rigged with a 7-inch curly tail.”

What’s the best bull redfish rod and reel? A 7-foot heavy-action rod paired with a 6,000-plus-class spinning reel, spooled with 50-plus-pound braid, is a great setup for any situation in which an angler will encounter bull redfish. Nonn prefers Shimano reels with PowerPro braid, while Waltz uses Penn reels with Berkley braid.

“If the fish are finicky and won’t touch jigs or dead bait, cast out a live bait rigged on a 3/0 circle hook and 40-pound fluoro,” says Rivers. “The [minimalistic] rig catches fish when nothing else will around Tampa Bay.”

Topwater Lures for Bull Redfish

When conditions are right, large schools of reds will hang at the surface in deep water. Each captain I spoke with encountered this behavior, so it’s not location specific.

“When an angler finds an aggregation on top, it’s best to pick off fish from outskirts of the school and try to keep the boat away to avoid putting them down,” says Capt. Tyler Nonn. “Doubles and triples are real possibilities.”

Nonn will cast large soft plastics, such as Hogy Lures, while Horsley and Rivers prefer to work loud surface poppers. “As long as the birds aren’t diving around the large schools, it’s a blast to watch reds fight over and try to smash your plug,” says Rivers.

One sign that bull redfish are around but not necessarily at the surface is the presence of mud balls.

“Reds are famous for attacking schools of bait on the bottom during the spring, and are easily detected by the huge muds under the bait pods,” says Capt. Kirk Waltz. “Catch a few baits from the edges of these schools, and flip them back into the mud balls for quick hookups.”

The post Fishing for Bull Redfish appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

As we skimmed over the mirror-calm surface of Saint Andrew Bay, en route from Sun Harbor Marina to the DuPont (Highway 98) bridge that separates Saint Andrew from East Bay, I marveled at how large an area of inshore waters sprawled northwest, northeast and southeast of Panama City. I had no idea.

“Our entire system includes four bays,” explained Capt. Matt Smith, our guide for the day: “West Bay, North Bay, Saint Andrew Bay and East Bay.” These total up to nearly 170,000 acres of water, Smith pointed out. And a glance at a map shows an astonishing amount of fishable shoreline.

Given the ideal weather on that ­early-summer morning, I kept looking for other boats with anglers also intent on hooking some bull redfish. But as Smith positioned his 21-foot Cobia bay boat near the bridge channel and dropped anchor, I noted that we had the whole area to ourselves.

Bull Redfish at the Bridges

We intended to fish some of the Storm soft plastics that my fishing partner, Dan Quinn, had brought down with him from Minnesota. Smith had plenty of small, live menhaden — cast-netted that morning — filling his baitwell, and he explained that plastics could be dynamite in shallower areas of the bays, but here in nearly 20 feet of water, they were a much tougher sell.

Nevertheless, the intrepid Quinn did hook a good fish on a Storm 360GT Searchbait soft-plastic, his first bull red drum ever. But bowing to the power of live baits, we put some of Smith’s pogies to good use, landing several more reds to at least 30 pounds, giving our light ­spinning outfits quite a workout.

Then the air show started. It takes a considerable distraction to make die-hard anglers redirect their attention from a live bait in imminent likelihood of being eaten by a rapacious trophy-size redfish, but when F-16s, F-22s and other fighter jets began sneaking up on us — moving so fast that unless watching, we were aware of them only when they thundered by overhead in the blink of an eye — it became hard to concentrate on other things.

There’s nothing to bring out the 8-year-old in a lot of guys like fighter jets, and it turned out we were fishing in their flight path — lots and lots of them — practicing takeoffs and landings at Tyndall Air Force Base, a stone’s throw south of the bridge.

I think Smith was amused at our awe, having long since gotten used to this phenomenon. Gradually, I managed to focus on the reason we were here. It helped that the frequency of overflights slowed. About the same time, the tide slowed as well, as then did the redfish bite.

Light-Tackle Fishing Action in the Bay

Fortunately, we began seeing splashes and swirls as something drove small white bait to the surface. I picked up a little Shimano Stradic 3000 and slid a Rapala Shadow Rap Shad in an albino shiner color (think white pearl) onto my snap, tossed it out, and began erratically working the lure jerkbait-style, in sharp, quick snaps. Almost at once, in a silver flash, I had hooked up. The bushwhacker turned out to be a small bluefish.

Quinn joined me, throwing a small 360 GT Largo Shad on a light lead-head, and both of us stayed busy with slashing strikes of small but always aggressive blues, with ladyfish and Spanish mackerel mixed in. Soon, Smith weighed anchor and we headed farther up into East Bay.

Somewhere in the vicinity of mid-bay, the sounder displayed the bottom abruptly rising from about 8 feet to 3 feet or so — a large sandy shoal. Though usually fishier (and apparently at times troutier) than it proved today, we did hook some jacks, and I landed another, considerably larger, Spanish mackerel while fishing the same Shadow Rap Shad, and missed what might have been a small tarpon.

By this time — midmorning — we had caught sight of maybe two or three other boats with anglers, and appreciated the tranquility of the East Bay. That, however, was about to change.

Flounder in the Free-for-All

Flounder fishing in these waters can be productive this time of year if you fish the right place. On this day, Smith said, the right place would be Saint Andrew Bay Pass, where the Gulf funnels into and out of the extensive bay system surrounding Panama City.

The pass and waters around it proved to be pretty antithetical to our experience back in the bays, with all manner and sizes of boats heading in and out. Despite the traffic, Smith dropped anchor and, bouncing in the washboard of wakes, we dropped live pogies to the bottom, about 30 feet down. Once again, Smith proved true to his word: Shortly after, we boated our first southern flounder and, just after another, a small gag grouper.

Intent on adding to the day’s already notable variety, Smith moved us to the end of the east jetty, a favorite spot to catch mangrove (gray) snapper. Bingo: We caught several gray snapper, on little liveys just off the rocks (keeping our lines away from the personal watercraft dashing around jetty’s end).

By then it was about midday. Smith, like most inshore guides here fishing the long days of summer, generally runs two half-day trips — roughly 7 a.m. to noon and 2 p.m. to 6 p.m., or thereabouts. So we headed back to the marina, plenty satisfied after a busy, fishy outing.

June’s a great time to connect with the variety these bays offer, but then, it’s hard to go wrong anytime. “We truly have a year-round inshore fishery here,” Smith says. That includes trout and reds on the flats, spring through fall (the morning we fished, the tide wasn’t right for that fishery).

October and November are Smith’s favorite months to focus on fishing the inlet for bull reds. (Smith customarily releases redfish to help ensure the future of this outstanding fishery.)

March and April find him there targeting sheepshead. Summer baitfish migrations offer the best action for flounder, mangrove snapper and Spanish mackerel, as well as species drawn in by the bait, including jacks, bluefish, blacktip sharks and sometimes tarpon.

Offshore Fishing Panama City Beach

A change-up was in store for our second and third days fishing out of Panama City. Armed with slightly heavier gear, we met up with Capt. Matt Parramore and our third angler, who happened to be Matt’s spouse, Jennifer, in his Cape Horn 27 at Panama City Marina to fish offshore.

The sunny, calm weather of the day before had given way to gray skies and the sound of rolling thunder here and there, so we opted to target nearshore waters with bait and lures — again, with variety in mind. Fishing anywhere from a couple of miles off the beach up to 10 or 12 miles out, we spent a good bit of our time drift-jigging in 60 to 130 feet of water on a variety of spots from Parramore’s little book of numbers.

Typical of the northern Gulf, large structural relief from the generally flat bottom wasn’t required to find fish; even small areas of modest rubble could hold predators. Casting a mix of Williamson Koika metal slow-pitch jigs and Arrow Head lead-head bucktail jigs, we did particularly well with king mackerel of respectable size (and some a good bit larger), as well as — inevitably — red snapper (though we released all of them by law) and other species.

Had red snapper season been open and had we wanted to target them, Parramore could have put us on some larger wrecks typically covered with snapper. Beyond red snapper, a dozen or more species will very possibly be pulled over the gunwales on any given day fishing offshore of Panama City.

With the jigs performing well, we ended up using few of the live cigar minnows that Parramore had bought at a bait receiver after leaving the marina. We added a couple of big kings to the total by trolling Rapala’s deep-diving X-Rap Magnum 40s.

While drifting the northern Gulf, it can pay to try whatever artificials you think could work. I had fun with some smaller kings and tunny while casting and retrieving with hard jerks a 5-inch X-Rap Saltwater crankbait on one of the light (inshore) spinning outfits I’d brought. Although we didn’t break out the kites that day, Parramore is a fan of dangling live runners from kites for big kings and other surface-oriented game fish.

Peak Time for Pelagics off Panama City

While the action can be good anytime of the year, weather permitting, late spring/early summer is Parramore’s favorite period. “The water’s starting to warm up, and baitfish are migrating in close,” attracting coastal pelagics such as cobia and kings, as well as amberjack and snapper. About that time, larger bluewater pelagic game fish turn on as well. While Parramore typically focuses on the variety of coastal pelagics within an hour or so of the beach, the skipper is all about bluewater big game. Given the shallow slope of the Gulf, he points out that a run of 60 to 120 miles is required to fish where blue marlin roam.

On the other hand, offshore game fish (other than blue marlin) can be found at times within a few miles of the coast. “I’ve seen people catch dolphin and sailfish off the pier!” he points out.

Species Availability: Panama City

Whether near or far, dolphin (mahi) rate as a favorite for Parramore. “I love fishing for dolphin. We run-and-gun a lot, looking for weeds and floating debris. Dolphin are usually under whatever we find.”

Parramore is a member of the Dolphinfish Research Tagging Program; he notes that a dolphin he tagged 20 miles off Panama City was recaptured 45 days later off Freeport in the Bahamas.

My take-away from this visit to Panama City is that there’s no shortage of activities and events going on in a destination that is succeeding as a Gulf tourist mecca. But anytime I should happen to be back here, I’ll be focusing on the fishing, since there’s always something going down, inshore or offshore.

About Panama City, Florida

Panama City is part of what is widely termed Florida’s Emerald Coast, after the color of nearshore waters, at times having a distinct clear-green hue. Many of the activities that attract visitors are water oriented, not surprising given the waters of several sprawling bays and, outside, the Gulf beyond the sandy beaches. To get more info on all that Panama City has to offer, visit destinationpanamacity.com.

The post Panama City Fishing Paradise appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

Tarpon: No word uttered on the Texas Gulf Coast stirs as much excitement for anglers. Yet, while virtually all of the region’s fishermen know about the presence of the silver king, relatively few pursue them.

“There’s a real mystique about tarpon,” says South Padre Island guide Capt. Brian Barrera. “Some people think the possibility of catching them is out of reach. But the reality is, especially down here, there are lots of tarpon, and anyone who studies up on them, puts some time in and has a little bit of luck can score on these awesome sport fish.”

Tarpon Time

The Gulf shoreline of the Lower Laguna Madre from Port Mansfield down to Port Isabel and into the Brownsville Ship Channel ranks as prime tarpon country. When waters calm from late summer into early fall, Barrera directs his focus to tarpon.

“We often start off at the Port Isabel jetties throwing lures like a D.O.A. Bait Buster. We’re optimally looking for rolling fish and sight casting to them,” he says.

Bait Busters are a jigging-type lure that also work as swimbaits. The shallow version comes with a single upright hook and operates at a medium sink rate so you can fish it near the surface, mid-range, or on the bottom. The deep runner weighs ¾ ounces and comes with a 5/0 hook with line-entry on top of the head, which keeps the lure sub-surface for bottom bouncing.

“I’ve caught a lot of tarpon on the Bait Buster. Throwing it is a great way to start the day,” Barrera says.

Look for tarpon facing the current outside and inside jetty walls; they also hang around large eddies and deep-water current breaks caused by displaced jetty rocks. A big fish behind the rocks just off the main wall — probably a tarpon.

Tarpon take everything from Coon Pops to Rat-L-Traps and certainly well-placed flies. But sometimes only live bait lights up the bite.

“I bring a cast net and let the water tell me what to fish. Sometimes when the pinfish are thick we’ll put one on. Other times, it’s mullet. But I’ve also seen tarpon sitting in the current sucking up blue crabs funneling out of the jetties. The angler that pays close attention to what’s going on bait-wise and doesn’t have an agenda will, more often than not, do better than those with a rigid fishing plan,” Barrera says.

Jetty Fish

Other areas that hold tarpon this time of year include the jetties near Port Aransas and Port O’Connor along the central coast. My first encounter with a big school of tarpon occurred at the Port Aransas jetties, where 25 to 30 fish in the 4- to 6-foot class fed just a few feet off the jetty wall.

I’d like to tell you I caught one of the 6-footers but they didn’t take anything we threw at them. We tried everything in our tackle box. That’s simply the nature of tarpon: aloof one day and super aggressive the next.

Surprising numbers of tarpon can also be found from High Island, just north of Galveston, down to Surfside, near Freeport. Anglers affectionately call this “Tarpon Alley.’’ Fishing a mile to 5 miles from the beach can prove productive, if you can get past the sharks and rough seas. Anglers often drift live or dead bait — usually mullet, pinfish or sand trout — through schools of menhaden that dominate the area during summer.

Tarpon Studies

Aaron Adams with Bonefish & Tarpon Trust (BTT) says that while many mysteries still cloud tarpon migration and life history, studies such as one conducted several years ago by Lucas Griffin and Andy Danylchuk provide some fascinating answers.

The researchers attached acoustic receivers to the ocean bottom throughout the tarpon’s range. These receivers detect signals from acoustic tags surgically implanted into tarpon. In Texas, listening devices were positioned from the Louisiana border to the Mexico border on the outer edge of every major bay system.

“The transmitters are the size of a AA battery and have a lifespan of five years, meaning not only can we implant them in a wide size range of tarpon, including those around 15 pounds, we can also track them over multiple years,” Griffin and Danylchuk wrote. “As the tarpon swims past the network of receivers, a unique ID code and date and time are saved on the receiver.

“With thousands of these receivers deployed across the Gulf of Mexico and southeastern United States, we can now track tarpon across the Gulf and adjacent waters and build a more detailed understanding of what really makes a tarpon move or, in some cases, stay,” the researchers say.

Results show a southern migration of Texas tarpon toward Mexico each fall. The Mississippi River Delta appears to divide east and west populations.

Massive Monsters

Barrera says he sees bigger fish arrive off South Padre a little later than smaller ones. True monsters show in August and September. He sight-fishes for these behemoths, spending as much time on the water as possible to decipher their patterns.

Read Next: More Tarpon Fishing Tips

The current state record, caught by Michael Shane LaRue II in 2017, measured 90 inches long and weighed 229 pounds.

“The biggest fish I’ve had in my boat was easily over 200 pounds,” Barrera says. “It was an absolute monster. Its scales were as big as my hand. In Texas, we can keep one tarpon 85 inches or larger, which lines up with a potential record fish.

“I didn’t know if it was a record or not. It was on the bubble. It was a true monster but to me it was better to see that fish go back to maybe even get bigger and thrill another angler.”

That kind of conservation ethic as well as support from groups like BTT appear to be generating a tarpon renaissance of sorts in Texas. As more anglers learn that they too can enjoy the tarpon action, fishing dreams will come true and appreciation for this already legendary species will grow. And that’s good for Texas anglers and the silver king.

The post Tracking Texas Tarpon appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

My boat was drifting on a calm conveyor belt of water running through an ancient minefield of boulders when I drew my first strike. More precisely, four strikes. Clichés rushed to mind — “third time’s the charm” and “three strikes, you’re out”— but none ended up applying. A big bluefish had chased, crashed and missed my topwater on three successive attempts. The final hit came just as I lifted the plug from the water. The slammer blue startled and soaked me as it connected with the treble hook and ran, almost yanking the rod from my hand, the spool like a tire spinning in snow.

Moments later, Bard and I waltzed around the center console as our lines crossed and then crossed again. I ducked under Bard’s rod as he reached his over me, trying to control the chaos while I kept an eye on a boulder looming down-current. Finally, with one hand still locked on my bent rod, I cranked the engine and nudged it into gear, idling us to safer water and leading the predators out of the rocks like untrained dogs on leashes. It was late September, and shaping up to be a great afternoon along a gnarled island 8 miles off Connecticut.

Birth of World-Class Fishing Structure

About 85,000 years ago, the late Wisconsin Glacier inched its way southeast from Canada, eventually reaching southern New England approximately 26,000 years ago. As the ice mass moved, a mile high at its thickest, it compressed and scoured the landscape like a massive, creeping bulldozer.

Roughly 6,000 years later, the glacier paused just beyond Connecticut and began to recede. At this point, the huge floe deposited its end moraine — mountains of sediment composed of rocks, gravel, sand and soil — creating most of western Long Island, New York. World-class fishing structure was born.

As the glacier retreated, it paused several more times, depositing additional moraines and forming the east end of New York’s Long Island, Plum Island, Great Gull Island and Fishers Island. The glacier also dropped smaller rubble piles in northern Long Island Sound, including Falkner Island, Charles Island, the Norwalk Islands and the Captain Islands. Farther northeast, moraines also created the now-famous tourist and fishing destinations of Block Island, Rhode Island and the Elizabeth Islands, Martha’s Vineyard, and Nantucket, Massachusetts.

Boulders Attract Fishing Predators

Boulders in a tidal current are to bluefish and striped bass what rocks in a stream are to brook and brown trout. These random obstacles disturb water flow and create resting and feeding stations for predators and prey.

“Big rocks provide optimal structure and divert currents,” says Capt. Chris Elser, a shallow-water expert from southwest Connecticut with more than 35 years of experience fishing coastal islands. “The water around boulder fields becomes oxygenated from wave action and currents coursing between and over large rocks, which attracts crustaceans, eels and many other baitfish.”

Rocks also draw baits because they host seaweed, which in turn provides forage and sanctuary for prey species. “Stripers and blues stalk these baits by holding near boulders,” says Elser. “They lurk there in ambush mode. The sheltered areas also allow large fish to expend minimal energy in a highly productive feeding environment, and they feel protected in the vast structure.”

The Why and Where of Islands

Islands are worth the time, effort and fuel it takes to fish them because not everybody’s small boat can get there; only skilled and serious anglers make the trip across big bays and sounds, and that means less competition. Islands are more often adjacent to deeper water than is mainland structure, and islands have current flow on all sides, which gives fish and fishermen more options, including shelter. Islands are 360-degree habitats in which fish might feed on either the incoming, outgoing or both tide phases.

When searching for prime casting stretches, pros always study the dry land contours. For example, if the shore is flat and gradual, expect adjacent water to be shallow with a clear bottom. Conversely, if the island banks are steep and rocky, pros expect the bottom to drop off abruptly. The more rugged the structure, the better the chance of finding large fish.

With Structure, Size Does Matter

Upon idling into a promising area, experts work the outer edges of a boulder field first, where the water is deepest, and progressively move and cast closer on each drift. Points, corners and pockets are key target zones because they are near strong currents but also provide eddies where fish station and hunt.

“Dominant fish usually own the territory near the biggest rock,” says Elser, “so it’s key to find the largest piece of structure within a particular group of rocks. I prefer to fish structure on the side facing the wind because it adds to the speed of the upper currents and creates whirlpools in the boulder fields. Small baits struggle here, making for easy prey. The current and wind wash crabs, shrimp, eels and other baitfish into the surf, creating feeding opportunities.”

Capt. Ned Kittredge, a pro from southern Massachusetts with 40 years of experience, looks for shallows of 2 to 20 feet over rocky shoreline structure with moving water. “I’ve found stripers in as little as 18 inches of water,” he says. “The action in this range can be phenomenal and breathtaking. But it’s not necessarily fast water. The current I look for is more subtle. On the deep end, if there’s bait present and the fish are feeding, they’ll come up from 20 feet to grab a plug. But not much deeper than that.”

Working the Waters

Stripers and bluefish spook easily when feeding in less than 15 feet of water during calm conditions, so it’s important to cover the water before your boat drifts through. When the current is moving fast, slowing your boat is a good technique that enables you to fan-cast the edges of the boulder field before being pushed past them. You can employ a trolling motor, push-pole or anchor to control your drift.

Kittredge starts a drift in approximately 25 feet of water and slowly works toward shore, casting over as much area as possible until he locates fish. “I’ll sometimes use a drift sock to slow the boat,” he says of those times when there is a breeze opposing the current.

When conditions are right, the most challenging and exciting way to access big fish is to stalk them in skinny water among the boulders. Cutting-edge anglers use their fishing boat as a mothership to transport kayaks or stand-up paddleboards to an island, and then deploy them to paddle over water too shallow for a powerboat.

“On calm days,” says guide Sean Callinan, who specializes in SUP adventures along the Connecticut coast, “you can’t beat the thrill of casting a plug or fly to predators while gliding through a maze of structure that may hold your trophy.”

Of course, paddlers must bring all necessary safety gear, including a flotation device, a cellphone in a resealable bag, a bottle of water, a signaling device and a pair of waterproof handheld radios to communicate with the mothership. An experienced companion must man the mothership and fish within sight of the paddler.

Topwater Fishing Tricks for Stripers

“First,” says Capt. Dixon Merkt, a light-tackle and fly specialist along the tide-swept islands and rips of eastern Long Island Sound, “you need to learn how to read the water. Look for nervous water created by the current moving over submerged structure. Start fishing ahead of it and work your way down through it. Never hesitate to cast way beyond that nervous water and retrieve the plug back over it so it looks like an escaping baitfish traveling over a distance.”

Any retrieve works for blues and bass when they’re aggressive and hungry. But when they’re fussy, you’ll need to vary your technique until you find one that produces. For bluefish, a steady, fast and noisy retrieve is effective. But for stripers, most pros slowly work a spook or pencil popper in a walk-the-dog style. Occasionally changing speed or pausing will often prompt a strike from a stubborn linesider.

“If you get a blue that short-hits and misses the plug several times,” says Merkt, “stop and then start the fast retrieve again. You’re likely to hook up on the next attack.”

Once a fish grabs your topwater, you’ll need to put some backbone into the set because a slow-moving lure won’t set itself. “Blues and big stripers have a mouth as hard as Tupperware,” says Kittredge, “and you need to punch a hole in it. Once a fish is hooked, use plenty of pressure to work it out of the rocks as quickly as possible, using the motor if necessary, and hope for good luck. I’ve lost plenty of big bass because I wasn’t ready for a fish of that size.”

Best Times to Fish and the Best Rigs to Use

“As a rule of thumb,” says Elser, “the lower the light, the shallower the water you can productively target. Ninety percent of my topwater fishing takes place near dawn and dusk.

Elser favors a 12- to 20-pound-class 7-foot rod loaded with 30-pound Daiwa braided line. He attaches a 3-foot section of 25-pound fluorocarbon leader.

Kittredge slings his big lures with 7- to 8-foot medium spinning rods, like those from G. Loomi . He matches the rod with a Shimano 5000 spinning reel. He likes 40-pound braided main line for its abrasion resistance in the boulders and positive hook-sets. To that he attaches a 4- to 6-foot section of 40-pound fluorocarbon leader using a double uni-knot for the line-to-leader connection.

“Eels cost a lot,” says Kittredge, “and they don’t really work properly when fish are against the rocks in the wave wash in only 2 to 3 feet of water. Plugs produce well in skinny water and rarely get hung up. Plus, you can get out fishing in a moment’s notice with minimal preparation. Best of all, it’s extremely exciting seeing a big fish smack a topwater.”

Dave Bard and I finished our September evening with three big bluefish, about a dozen schoolie bass and one 37-inch trophy. As we ran back across the pond in the fading twilight, we traded waves with tourists on a passing ferry, happy that we were in the smaller vessel, returning from a great boulder-field adventure.

Tips for Safely Fishing Boulder Fields

Casting among island boulders miles from the mainland has its rewards but also its risks. The surf, wind or current can quickly push you into the rocks, causing grounding, hull damage or a busted prop. “The cost of failure is very high,” notes Capt. Merkt. “Twice, with an old engine, I suddenly couldn’t get it started and ended up frantically throwing out an anchor, and both times had the stern swing within feet of a turbulent shore. These aren’t places that inexperienced fishermen should go.”

• Have an anchor handy and ready.
• Never fish alone.
• Anchor or use a trolling motor when fishing in an onshore wind.
• Pay attention, even when you’re fighting the big one.
• Study your chart, know the depth contours and structure, and set up drifts in the safe zone.
• Use your GPS tracking option to monitor and repeat safe drifts.
• Have someone skilled at the helm.
• Leave the motor running during turbulent conditions.
• Keep your engine tilted as high as possible without sucking air.
• Use a telescopic push pole to fend off rocks.
• Learn the waters and structures at high and low tides.
• Wear polarized sunglasses to help watch for rocks.
• Leave a float plan with someone reliable.

The post Catch Striped Bass and Bluefish Near Boulders appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

While a common mantra for catching flounder — “fish near the bottom, stupid” — is mostly true, being tuned in to exceptions and nuances increases the odds of bagging big flatties.

No one’s better at doing just that than top flounder fishing guides and pros. Questions we asked included what are the best flounder rigs, what’s the best bait for flounder, where can we catch flounder, and when is the best time to catch them. Here’s what the 10 experts said.

Catching Flounder in Maine

• Expert: Barry Gibson
• Region: Booth Bay Harbor, Maine
• Species: Winter flounder (known as “blackbacks” locally)

The late Barry Gibson spent decades targeting winter flounder. In fact, it was easy to spot his 28-foot Whitewater during the hot flounder months of July through September. “Area tides don’t make a lot of difference,” said Gibson. “Flounder like moving water around coves, estuaries and inlets that present fairly deep centers and shallow fringes. A sand or gravel bottom is ideal, but they’ll also feed over mud and grassy areas as well as mussel beds and creeks that empty into deeper water.

Maine Flounder Fishing Tips

• Go Zobo: Fish a Zobo rig developed by Pete Santini, a tackle-shop owner in Everett, Massachusetts. It’s essentially a high-low rig with hooks and 2- or 3-ounce sinkers painted orange or yellow for more visual appeal.
• Seduce with Sandworms: The best bait for flounder is a 3-inch section of a live sandworm. To make the worms less slippery, put them in a plastic container half filled with corn meal.
• Move It: Blackbacks feed more by sight than scent; try moving the bait a few inches at a time.

Catching Flounder in Massachusetts

• Expert: Capt. Jason Colby
• Region: Boston Harbor and Quincy Bay
• Species: Winter flounder

Catches of winter flounder weighing 3 pounds or more often reward anglers fishing with Capt. Jason Colby. You can find him aboard his 31-foot Contender with dual 300-hp Yamahas. He says the best months for winter flounder are May, June and July, and August to September for summer flounder, aka fluke. (Colby says summer flounder are encountered more often during August and September past Cape Cod.) Colby prefers no wind, but a light breeze with the tide works fine. “Generally, I drift over smooth bottom and anchor where there’s structure,” he says.

Massachusetts Flounder Fishing Tips

• Drop Down: Flounder tend to gather on the deeper side of a ledge, especially on a falling tide, around creek mouths that feed into larger bodies of water. Sometimes flounder follow baits to an anchored boat, so periodically drop straight down.
• A Puff of Mud: When chumming in a current over mud or sand, bounce your flounder rig on the bottom: Lift it 2 inches, and drop it suddenly. That creates a particulate puff each time the sinker hits, and blackbacks hustle over.
• Clam Up: Colby’s consistent success often relies on a two-hook tandem rig with one leader a little longer than the other. Put a clam on the shorter hook and a worm on the longer one — more flounder will go for the worm, but the clam is likely to attract the big boys.

Catching Flounder in New Jersey

• Expert: Capt. Scott Newhall
• Region: Southern New Jersey
• Species: Summer flounder

“Summer flounder start arriving around the coast in this area in April and during all of May,” says Capt. Scott Newhall. “Then they head into the back bay before reaching the continental shelf for the winter.” A veteran in the guiding biz, Newhall fishes a 21-foot Contender. “In the back bay, you want two hours before and after high tide, since you often get cleaner water then,” Newhall says. “Light winds add to the bite, and I run a drift speed of half to 1 mile per hour.”

New Jersey Flounder Fishing Tips

• Gulp! Over Gulp!: Go with a single-hook ­bucktail tipped with a Berkley Gulp!. Ten inches above that, thread a bare Gulp! onto a hook — all colors seem to work well. Vary the retrieve from a long stroke to rapid fire.
• Lots of Live Baits: Effective live baits include minnows, peanut menhaden (pogies or bunker), baby bluefish, striped killifish or mullet, fished on a bare hook.
• Structure on Sand: For ocean fishing, stay tight to structure where the debris or metal meets the sand. If you get a bite and the flounder drops the bait, immediately set it back.

Catching Flounder in North Carolina

• Expert: Capt. Jeff Onley
• Region: Albemarle Sound
• Species: Southern and summer flounder

Capt. Jeff Onley, who guides from a deep-V Polar Kraft, says the best flounder months in his neck of the woods are May to September, when winds come from the southwest to clear up water and push tides higher. “I prefer braided 6-pound line, up to 12-pound around structure when bigger flounder or stripers are in the mix,” says Onley.

North Carolina Flounder Fishing Tips

• Deploy a Dropper: A dropper rig using a rounded weight and, above it, a hook tied to the line or leader, helps avoid break-offs around structure.
• Best Baits and Lures for Flounder: The best live baits for flounder are croaker or mullet. For strip baits, he likes bluefish, squid or the belly of a gray trout or croaker. When fishing artificials, his go-to list includes Berkley Gulp!, swimming mullets and spinnerbaits.
• Creek-Mouth Wisdom: Target mouths of creeks on the ebb tide and, on the incoming, deeper water over drop-offs and around structure with live baits.

Catching Flounder in Georgia

• Expert: Capt. Tim Cutting
• Region: St. Simons Island to northeast Florida
• Species: Southern flounder

A guide since 1990, Capt. Tim Cutting bags flounder year-round from his 20-foot Scout, but does best from June to late fall. “I’m not that big a believer in tidal influence,” says Cutting. “Flounder like clean, salty water and structure near an inlet. They gravitate to wherever the ocean feeds into marshes, jetties, docks and riprap.” Cutting utilizes his trolling motor frequently to cover water. He prefers a Carolina rig with soft plastics, using a sinker as light as possible above the swivel and a short 6- to 15-inch leader to limit bait movement where the bottom is snaggy.

Georgia Flounder Fishing Tips

• Skip the Shrimp: Flounder seldom pass up live croakers, finger mullet, pinfish or menhaden. Junk fish, such as hardhead cats, tend to get to shrimp in this area before flounder do. Soft plastics, such as Berkley Gulps, do well along with spinnerbaits.
• Fewer Fails with a Kahle: Use a Kahle hook for more dependable hooksets. On live bait, wait five to 15 seconds before a hard hookset.
• Think Clearly: When water runs fast, it can become turbid, so concentrate on areas where the bottom isn’t silty. If you can’t see the bottom of your trolling motor, move.

South Florida Flounder Fishing

• Expert: Capt. Alan Sherman
• Region: South Florida
• Species: Gulf and summer flounder

A Miami Beach head boat skipper for decades, Capt. Alan Sherman, who runs a 24-foot Pathfinder, knows a thing or two about flounder. “We usually come upon flounder while fishing for other species,” says Sherman, adding that the more frequently encountered summer flounder run 4 to 6 pounds but Gulf flounder are smaller. Late fall through winter, in sandy areas, near rocky bottoms, yields the best flatfish catches. Sherman likes moving water.

Florida Flounder Fishing Tips

• Supersize Shrimp: In the colder months of winter, fish shrimp, which tend to run large, or else use pilchards hooked through the nose.
• Fish Finger Channels: Target finger channels. Tie the running line via swivel to a 30-pound monofilament leader with a 1/0 short-shank hook, and go with a ¼- to 1-ounce egg sinker, depending on current strength.
• Feel for the Fall: Bounce red or chartreuse jig heads with Gulp! along the bottom. Strikes usually occur as the lure falls.

Gulf Coast Flounder Fishing

• Expert: Capt. Paul Hajash
• Region: Tarpon Springs to St. Petersburg
• Species: Gulf and southern flounder

Capt. Paul Hajash (pronounced hash), who has been guiding since 1999, fishes a 20-foot Backcountry. “Flounder seem to migrate offshore during winter to spawn in deeper water, and come back when water is between 68 and 78 degrees during spring and fall,” Hajash says. Flounder — especially the bigger doormats — feed more by sight than smell, he adds. “Accordingly, they can see better in clearer water, where they lie hidden until something swims over their heads.”

Gulf Coast Flounder Fishing Tips

• Guide’s Hot Spot: Good areas include the ­mitigation reefs that run from Sound Key south to St. Petersburg. Flounder congregate in sandy areas in 10- to 15-foot depths just off those reefs.
• Soak a Sardine: Live sardines with a 1/0 to 3/0 hook, fished with just enough split shot to get them to the bottom, are hard to beat. Nearly as good are tiger minnows, chubs and small pinfish. Mullet strips or small pinfish on a lead-head jig also work.
• Cast Up-Current: In Clearwater Pass when the tide is moving in or out, cast up-current and let your bait drift slowly or bump it along the bottom. Oyster bars anywhere often hold promise.

Catching Flounder in Louisiana

Guide: Capt. Troy Nash Contact: 337-412-5950, Region: South Louisiana Species: Southern and Gulf flounder

Capt. Troy Nash, who’s guided for more than 30 years, employs a 2023 Pathfinder 2500 Hybrid bay boat. “Our best flounder fishing starts in October and November as they migrate into the Gulf to spawn,” he says. “We fish a lot of artificials, such as ⅛- or ¼-ounce wiggle jigs tipped with shrimp.” Nash prefers spin gear with a 20-pound fluorocarbon leader and, if using bait, a 3/0 Owner hook with a shrimp threaded onto it. He adds a small split shot, then bumps the rig along the bottom of bayous and outflows. “You can catch large numbers of flounder in Vermillion Bay and around Marsh Island in the Russell Sage Wildlife Refuge,” he says.

Top Louisiana Flounder Fishing Tips

• Go to the Gators: Look for alligator trails where they enter and exit the water; these create holes where flounder like to nestle. Other points of water flowing in and out of the marshes are good too.
• Follow Slack Tide: Fish the end of high tide, when water starts to slacken, as long as water clarity is decent, then follow the slack tide to the next spot and on and on.
• Flounder on Fly: Fly patterns take plenty of flounder, particularly small poppers, Seaducers and lavender bendbacks. Put a lead wire on the flies to get them below the surface so flounder feel and see the push of water.

Texas Flounder Fishing Secrets

• Expert: Capt. Mike Losoya
• Region: Galveston
• Species: Southern flounder

Capt. Mike Losoya fishes in the marshes and open bays of Galveston. “Around here, we find a decent amount of flounder year-round, but the best runs occur in the marshes from October to November,” says Losoya. He searches for green water that’s neither stained nor crystal clear. Wind doesn’t seem to affect flounder, but he does look for mixed bottoms, “such as sand and mud together with shells around drop-offs in depths from 2 to 20 feet, with the 5-foot range most productive.”

Top Texas Flounder Fishing Tips

• Better with a Baitcaster: Learn to throw a baitcasting rig to maximize precision with just a touch of your thumb to hit the points and run-offs.
• Texas Choice: Live shrimp, mullet, pinfish and croakers work well for those not adept at casting lures, but you should have good action with Berkley Gulps, MirrOlures and the Texas favorite, Corky lures.
• Cover Ground Looking Down: Use your sonar to look for irregularities in the bottom, such as small holes and rocks. Fish eddies in currents. Cover lots of water because flounder will be scattered in potholes as well as open areas.

South Texas Flounder Fishing

• Expert: Capt. Bill Sheka Jr.
• Region: Laguna Madre and Baffin Bay
• Species: Southern flounder

Few guides can match Capt. Bill Sheka’s prominence as one of the most famous fishing personalities in Texas. Now retired, Sheka plied the waters in a 21-foot bay boat for 35 years. “Fishing is best from October to December, when water temperatures fall below 72 degrees, because that seems to get flounder to stop moving,” says Sheka. “Dropoffs are the big key in shallow grass beds, as are points during a push of current.”

South Texas Flounder Fishing Tips

• Pop a Cork: A live shrimp under a popping cork can work magic if popped hard where grass bottom gives way to a channel.
• Twitch Versus Hop: Don’t hop baits along the bottom — they tend to snag too much in these waters. Instead, work your offering with small twitches.
• Cast Master: Precision casting will result in more catches — a difference of only 5 feet from where a guide says to cast can mean the difference between success and a big zero.

The Different Types of Flounder

Gulf Flounder

Summer Flounder

Southern Flounder

Winter Flounder

The post Top Flounder Fishing Tips appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.

I remember seeing my first free-swimming cobia. I’d heard reports about Florida and North Carolina anglers bringing their sight-fishing skills to my home waters of the Chesapeake Bay. I had to try that technique.

Since we needed full sun to spot a fish on the surface, I didn’t even launch the boat until 9 a.m. The summer day was glass calm, hot and humid. I stood at the helm of my 20-foot Jones Brothers bay boat; my brother Roger took the bow position, holding a heavy spinning rod baited with a 2-ounce bucktail. We zig-zagged at 6 knots up the Chesapeake Bay on the lookout. With perfect sight-fishing conditions, we quickly spotted a fin cutting a V-wake across the mirror-like water.

As I worked the boat closer, we saw a 4-foot long brown fish swimming just below the surface. I slowed the boat; Roger launched a cast, and the lure landed a few feet ahead of the cobia. The fin swirled, and the brown fish pounced on the lure. Roger came tight and hooked the fish. Easy, right?

Judging by that first try, sight fishing seemed easy. But if that was true, why do 10 percent of cobia anglers seem to catch 90 percent of the fish? To improve my game (and yours), as the cobia linger through late spring and early summer, I called three top pros and asked for some of their secrets. With new tools now in my box, I’m looking forward to sight-fishing for cobia.

Sight-Fishing for Cobia

Sight-fishing for cobia requires driving around a big ocean looking for a small brown dot. To narrow the odds, scan for bait pods, color or temperature changes, circling birds, turtles, sharks and rays. Cobia also hide around structures like buoys or pilings. Basically, anything out of the ordinary could hold a curious cobia. But consistently finding the fish takes more knowledge and effort. Guides who are on the water day after day track trends year after year. To truly target cobia, they have to predict the unpredictable.

Off of Destin, Florida, ounce considered the Mecca of cobia sight-fishing, Cameron Parkhurst, co-captain of the Instigator Fishing Team, says the season has seemed shorter in recent years, and it tends to wax and wane. Parkhurst theorizes that cobia ride ocean currents from Brazil into the Gulf. Any disruption in the current could result in fewer cobia passing northwest Florida.

With current playing a big part in cobia behavior, Parkhurst pays close attention to the direction and speed the coastal water moves. “Cobia are lazy and will use every advantage to migrate,” he says. Parkhurst prefers current-against-wind conditions. “This seems to bring the fish to the surface,” he says. Choppy seas also make it easier to spot the fish riding the face of a wave.

On Florida’s east coast, Capt. James Dumas of Drum Man Fishing Charters has also seen tougher cobia conditions. “The last few years have been horrible,” Dumas says bluntly. For Dumas, manta rays hold the key to finding cobia. As the giant winged fish glide down the beach, cobia follow in their wake. One ray can have a dozen cobia in tow, he says.

To start his search, the captain first puts water between himself and other anglers. South of St. Augustine, the next navigable inlet lies 40 miles away. Fishing the area in between, which Dumas calls “the desert,” gives him easier access to unmolested rays.

Don’t Get Too Close to Cobia Before Casting

Just because you see a cobia doesn’t mean you’ll get a chance to cast. Every time I spot a cobia, buck fever begins. I scream and point, ordering my friends around the boat while trying to get in position for a cast. In contrast, cobia pros remain cool and calculated in their approach. Capt. Donnie Davis of DOA Charters, who fishes the North Carolina Outer Banks for cobia and red drum, maneuvers his boat to match the fish’s speed and parallels its direction. He carefully closes the distance until he moves just inside casting range. “I want to make the longest cast possible,” he adds.

Davis positions the boat so that the fish swims directly off to the side or slightly behind him. When the fish takes the bait, Davis can motor ahead to help drive the hook home. As the angler fights the fish, Davis keeps the boat in gear so the fish stays off the stern. “If I lose a cobia in the motor or under the boat, it’s my fault,” he says

When it comes to hooking a cobia, Cameron Parkhurst advises captains to develop a strategy. Parkhurst keeps two live eels, two 2-ounce bucktails and a live pinfish or ruby lips ready to deploy. “First we throw the eel and then follow-up with the live bait,” he says. When Parkhurst finds a cobia school, he uses the bucktail to entice smaller fish away so he can target the biggest cobia with an eel. When Dumas spots a ray holding cobia, he approaches carefully. “If the ray goes down that’s it,” he says. Dumas used to turn off his outboard and drop the trolling motor, but he says the change in pitch spooks the fish.

Best Tackle for Cobia

While anglers often describe cobia as curious and aggressive, these fish can also be frustratingly picky. The trick to teasing a fussy cobia into taking your bait comes down to the details. The typical cobia rod and reel comprises a medium-heavy to heavy action spinning rod paired with a 5000- to 8000-size reel. Use the heavier set up for heavy jigs and big live baits; the lighter combo best casts a live eel. Spool the reel with 30- to 50-pound braided line tied with a line-to-leader knot or a 250-pound swivel to a 2-foot, 40- to 80-pound fluorocarbon leader. Clearer water and finicky fish call for lighter leader.

Starting with this base set up, each pro adds his own personal touch. Davis likes a shorter, 6-foot, 6-inch rod. “I hate to lose a fish close to the boat,” he says. A shorter rod offers more control when the fish is near gaffing range.

Read Next: Sight-Fishing Cobia off North Carolina

To pull a cobia off a ray, Dumas uses large paddletail swimbaits such as the Z-Man HerculeZ. “I think the thump of the swimbait’s tail gets the cobia excited,” he explains. When cobia grow finicky, he switches to a 6- to 8-inch jerk bait on a ½ ounce jighead. “I can cast the jerkbait 60 yards,” he says.

For Parkhurst, the secret to suckering a cobia is downsizing the leader and hook size. He likes to hook a live eel with a No. 4 4X treble hook. He pins the bait through the back just behind the pectoral fins. The small treble and light line are almost undetectable to sharp-sighted cobia. Little touches like that separate the cobia elite from the masses. This summer, consider tracking migration trends, developing a strategy for approaching the fish, and using the right tackle to up your odds.

The post Pros’ Tips for Sight-Casting to Cobia appeared first on Sport Fishing Mag.