"Fishing Wimps"
By CAPT. MEL BERMAN, 970-WFLA

One of the things we quickly learn as anglers is that good moving tides and agreeable fishing weather result in successful fishing days. To many a "hard-core" fisherperson (the gals are also included in this scenario) only the wimps fish when the tides and weather conditions are right. It takes a really dedicated angler to try and scare up fish under the most adverse circumstances.

Admittedly, I belong in the latter category. You can call me up at 2 in the morning with an invite to go fishing, and I'll meet you at the dock, ready to hit the water at 3 AM. This kind of sets the scene for a trip I had some years back with another fishing nut, my friend Capt. Jerry Williams.

It was a cold, dank, windy Sunday morning. A front was stalled over our Tampa Bay Area. Arrangements for this outing were worked out over a week before... and by golly, Jerry and I were not going to "wimp-out." When I met him at the Davis Islands ramp it looked like someone had pulled the plug on the bay. We had never seen such a low tide at this popular launching spot.

The winds were blowing a minimum of 20-knots out of the northwest. "Still wanna go?" Jerry asked, with a measure of challenge in his voice. "Let's do it!" I responded, reaching for the gauntlet Jerry had thrown down.

Splashing south through the choppy waters of Hillsborough Bay, our faces were pelted with needle sharp droplets of cold rain. The several layers of clothing, including a warm ski jacket and foul weather gear on top of that kept my shivering to a minimum. After what seemed an eternity of frigid "splishing and splashing," we turned toward one of the many spoil islands which line the Sedden channel into the Port of Tampa.

Trying to position our small, 15-foot aluminum Jon boat so that we could find some protection from the brisk, chilly winds, Jerry eased the vessel to the southeast corner of the island. A small oyster bar jutted from the tip of the spoil where we would begin our nippy fishing day. Flipping out small jigs toward the oyster bar, Jerry and I managed to hook up with a few baby sea trout and a couple of hungry ladyfish. Meanwhile, the light drizzle turned into a steadier downpour. The gloom, the wind, the cold, the slow tide, the scarcity of fish, pushed the words to my quivering lips. "What in the world are we doing here?" "Let go in!"

Jerry said he'd agree to head for the ramp, but since we are already near one of his favorite redfish spots, and with the tide just starting to move, let's make one more brief stop. So Jerry sloshed us across the bay to his secret little "honey hole"... a very shallow grass flat that had small 'drop-offs' and some scattered rolling moss.

Preserving my "macho" image and not wanting to be regarded a spineless wimp, I agreed to the cold wet trip across the open bay. As we tried to make it beyond the shipping channel a large tug was barreling down the waterway, probably heading for that warm cup of coffee at their dock. To our dismay, the deep draft commercial craft spewed out a wake of major proportions. We tossed and turned as the 4-foot rollers made it to our beleaguered small aluminum vessel. The last thing I needed was to get wet on the frigid, dank morning. Nonetheless, we managed to navigate these treacherous open waters and slipped into the protection of a barrier island lined grass flats area.

We still had to endure drifting the flats through the discomfort of bone-chilling wind and drizzle. I was beginning to wonder if Jerry's inspiration would pay off as we got lots of good "casting practice," but no fish to show for our bone-chilling effort. However, Jerry assured me that when we reach a certain 'honey hole' "we'll hook up with some fish." "Yeh, yeh... sure," I thought to myself... but I will humor my adventurous compatriot and go along with this one last shot. About the time I reached my maximum "soak-tolerance level," I hooked a rather large sea trout. This is the kind of occurrence that delays the departure of any fishing fanatic, and kept the words, "Let go in NOW!" from leaving my lips.

Then, the moment we arrived at Jerry's "magical spot", the clouds opened up with a vengeance. What had been a cold drizzle turned into a major downpour, bathing us with a chilling shower so heavy, we could hardly see 5 feet in front of us. Tightening up the drawstring on the hood of my foul weather jacket, a cold, damp feeling began penetrating through to these old bones. But at that very moment, from out of nowhere, a massive redfish had followed my Zara Spook to the boat. As I reeled the lure in, the redfish made a second lunge at it and I hooked up with that huge, copper-colored 36-inch beauty.

As I was fighting this enormous fish, another bulky red ferociously attacked Captain Jerry's bait. Releasing these lunkers, both of us enjoyed the thrill off hooking a variety of snook, reds and monster sea trout. One trout was so large; I honestly thought the fish was a good-sized snook. When I got it boatside, I could see that this was a trout and at least 29-inches in length. It appeared that the sudden deluge had somehow triggered a feeding frenzy. The fish were now jumping on our lures the moment they hit the water's surface.

Suddenly, the rain, the cold, the brisk winds didn't seem to matter. This dank, uncomfortable day had turned into one of those glorious fishing adventures. With rain drooling down my face and off my nose, I gleefully hooked up with some of the largest, friskiest fish I've landed all year. It could have been a bright, balmy day and we couldn't have had more fun. All fish were released. Jerry and I simply appreciated the opportunity to tangle with such frisky lunkers on so disagreeable a day.

Then, as swiftly as it began, the monsoon rains switched back to a slow drizzle. At that very moment, it was as though some unseen hand had thrown a switch. The 'bite' stopped abruptly. No matter what we threw at them, no matter how expertly we worked our lures, the fish resumed their previous 'lockjaw mode.' Then Jerry and I looked at each other and almost in unison, said "It's time to go in!"