From Offshore to Back Bay
By CAPT. MEL BERMAN, 970-WFLA

These days, it seems, more and more offshore anglers are discovering the advantages of fishing the flats. Heretofore deep-sea grouper troopers have looked at their marina, gas and maintenance bills and said to themselves "there has to be a better, more affordable way to get a fishing fix." And many of these blue water mavens have also concluded that those "dark-to-dark" trips have gotten tiresome and old. How nice it would be to enjoy a full day's fishing within a comfortable 4 or 5-hour morning.

There he was, standing in the warm sun, somewhat numb, still trying to absorb the fact that he was finally an "unowner" of a big offshore boat. It seemed an eternity since the day Jeff decided to sell the large 34-foot vessel. Finally, after almost two years and much downward adjustment of the price, the new owner of the fly bridge sport fisherman that was once Jeff's pride and joy, was piloting his very expensive hobby out of the marina to it's new home in the Carolinas.

It was a kind of bittersweet moment, ending a 15-year romance with offshore fishing. Yet, there was somehow a sense of freedom. The big slip rent, insurance, maintenance and fuel bills were now history. Jeff was a liberated big boat owner. For the first time in several years he was boatless - and it felt wonderful.

After reveling in his newfound liberty, the addiction with which all fishing enthusiasts are encumbered started to gnaw at Jeff's inner being. He urgently needed a fishing trip - a "fix" - and right now!

A friend, Capt Phil, had often invited him to go fishing "in the back bay." Yet Jeff always felt that trying to catch fish in one foot of water was kind of the "wimp" thing to do. After all, those who ride out into the uncertain Atlantic or Gulf of Mexico some 40 to 50 miles, handling whatever these huge body of water dished out are much more "macho." Jeff recalled the 11-hour rides, fighting his way through 10-foot seas to make it back to port with his catch of large fish. He also recalled the exhaustion he felt after one of these unnerving offshore adventures.

Somehow a five minute boat ride to the flats to catch fish didn't feel like he was "paying enough dues." Besides, what kind of pint sized fish could one catch so close to shore? Nevertheless, the urge was too great. He desperately needed to get rod and reel in hand, and a fish - any kind of fish - pulling back on the other end of the line. Jeff called Capt. Phil and lined up flats fishing trip.
As Jeff met Phil at the ramp early that Saturday morning, the wind was blowing out of the southeast at a pretty good clip. All his instincts told him this would likely be a canceled excursion. Yet, Capt. Phil blithely launched his 18-foot flats skiff without a second thought. "Get aboard," he beckoned. Stepping into the very small, low freeboard vessel, Jeff couldn't help but notice the very light, almost flimsy tackle Phil had set out in the rod holders next to the console. Surely any fish caught with these delicate rods and reels, with thin 6-pound test line would certainly have to be puny.

As they took off, all Jeff's instincts of how much water a boat needs in which to run were tested. Automatic alarms went off in his subconscious that indicated a boat would be grinding to a sudden stop at 40 miles an hour! Yet here they were, gliding across foot-deep water, heading for the leeward side of a small mangrove island where a few great blue herons and some big brown pelicans were wading around, barely getting their ankles wet!

About one hundred yards off, Phil abruptly shut down the engine and clambered up on the small platform over it. He had a very long, ungainly-looking pole in his hands with which he propelled the small vessel. Slowly and silently he moved the boat toward an area of water just off the small island.

"Look! See that 'nervous water' there?" Phil said excitedly. Scanning the water's surface, Jeff gaped helplessly, trying to perceive what Capt. Phil was seeing. "It's probably a put-on," Jeff thought to himself, "there's nothing going on there."
"Quick! Grab that rod with the small gold spoon," Phil commanded. Instinctively, Jeff obeyed. "Now throw it at 11 o'clock, just past that point in the mangroves, and start reeling slowly." Awkwardly, Jeff cast the small spoon precisely where the skipper ordered.
Gingerly turning the crank on the tiny reel, he could feel the spoon wiggle in the water as it was retrieved. Suddenly a monster crashed on the lure, almost ripping the rod and reel out of his hands. "Keep a good bend in the rod!" Phil commanded. "Zzzzt," went the drag.
The feisty fish took off on a 360-degree tour of the boat. "When he runs under the boat, put your rod tip in the water so you don't break off on the outdrive," yelled Phil. "Zzzzt-zzzzt-zzzzt, more drag as the large angry monster got a glimpse of the boat. What was now determined to be at least a 12-pound redfish, suddenly pulled downward, bent on freeing himself from this life threatening predicament.

Finally, the exhausted redfish was now puling with much less enthusiasm. He was brought to the boat where Jeff and Phil could get a good look at the sleek copper-colored creature. "Boy, he's beautiful," enthused Jeff. Without removing the lunker from the water, Capt. Phil used his needle nose pliers to extract the spoon from the red and, grabbing it by the tail, he swished the fish back and forth to get the water circulating over his gills. "Is he gonna be all right?" a concerned Jeff asked. "He'll be just fine," assured the captain. At that moment, the fish recovered his composure and confidently swam away.

Next, Phil poled the skinny watercraft along shallow flats at the edge of a mangrove stand. Handing Jeff an outfit with a large topwater lure, the skipper said," See if you can flip this plug right at the base of the "bushes." And try not to "decorate the trees."

At first Jeff was timid in his attempts to land the lure close to the mangroves. Most of his casts wound up about 5 yards in front of the stand of trees. "You're gonna need to get that plug a lot closer if you want to catch a snook," Phil cautioned. "If you're not hung up in the bushes every once in a while you're not fishing close enough."

After several attempts he was now beginning to become more adept at working the mangrove edges. Jeff could not only flip the lure right at the base of the bushes, but began to make it "walk" across the waters surface. Then, on one particular retrieve, he noticed a large wake pushing behind his plug. "Don't stop... keep working that lure!" cautioned Captain Phil. Seconds later, with a violent splash of water, the huge snook crashed on the bait. The big "linesider," running for its life, began peeling off yards of line and making the drag scream. Typical of hooked snook, the big fish performed a magnificent ballet, pirouetting 3 feet out of the water, then crashing back to doggedly fight his capture. "Let your rod tire him out," instructed Phil. "Keep a good bend in the rod, and try to work it off to the side." After more jumps, and several exhilarating minutes, Jeff brought the big snook along side the skiff.

Grasping it by the lower lip, Phil gently lifted the hefty snook out of the water. Captain Phil measured the fish, placing the lunker next to the rule affixed to the hull. "33 and a half inches," proclaimed the proud skipper. After a quick "high-five" with Jeff, the skipper worked water through the tired linesider=s gills and sent him back to his shallow water domain.

What a sight! What great fun! Jeff was trying to figure out why he had the erroneous notion that flats fishing was wimp stuff. That day, according to Jeff's calculations, they caught and released 14 redfish and snook, averaging 10-pounds each. That's about 140-pounds of fish! To enjoy a catch like this offshore, one would have to endure a minimum two-hour journey, fish three hours, and then another 2-hour ride back to the dock. Of course, had the weather acted up, the trip would have taken considerably longer, and certainly wouldn't have been very pleasant.

This day it took all of 8 minutes to cruise to the flats where the fish were caught. Jeff and Phil fished for a full three hours, and it took another 8 minutes to make it back to the ramp. Reaching shore at about noon, Jeff still had time to get home for a decent, sit-down lunch, and watch the tube as his alma mater played the big game of the year.

Savoring thoughts of the stunning scenery, the pristine atmosphere and the chance to fish when offshore anglers were locked out by the weather, Jeff became aware that there is more to this "skinny water" fishing than he first realized. Inshore flats fishing is indeed a whole different world. A lot of it is "sight fishing" - more akin to hunting. It is definitely more of a sporting challenge. Special skills and techniques are constantly being perfected, and every angler revels in the opportunity to chose his own combinations of tackle and baits which work for him or her.

It wasn't too long before Jeff was a proud boat owner once again. Only this time his craft of choice was a 16-foot flats skiff powered by a 115 hp outboard. He was now able to keep this vessel right at the house. No more expensive slip rent, plus the added advantage of being able to putter around with the boat evenings and on non-fishing days. Jeff now can buy gasoline at the neighborhood service station, where costs are considerably less than the inflated marina fuel prices. Instead of the thirsty 34-foot twin-engine vessel, Jeff now owns a boat that, on a busy day of fishing, might burn all of seven gallons.

Recently Jeff was invited to fish offshore with his friend Dave. It was one of those "two Dramamine days" with 6 and 7-foot waves rocking the boat all over the joint.

Standing up to fish took a great deal of effort, it was squid and sardine messy, leaving Jeff totally exhausted after the trip. When he got home, Jeff proclaimed to his wife, "Ya know honey, after today's Gulf fishing, I think I'll stick to inshore."