A weekend in the Bay.

I received a message from friend Rob DeVore a few weeks back and he said that I should come over to the west coast for a weekend to go fishing. Rob lives about 20 minutes from my wife’s cousin so I figured we could have a minication with the best of both worlds. I would fish all weekend with friends and Stephanie would hang out with her cousin and get some family time in, AKA shopping. We found the first free weekend, strapped the OK down in the truck, gave the cat some extra food and water and we were off on Friday after work.

Saturday morning we were greeted with an eclipse.

My friend Neal (my wife’s cousins husband) has a kayak and he’s been wanting to fish with me for a while so he would join Rob and I along with Rob’s fishing buddy, Keith on Saturday morning at O’dark:30am. The plan was to fish the “No Motor Zone” of St. Joseph’s Sound and the plan was attacked at its full potential. However, the fish did not attack us back. We saw a number of fish during our 4 mile paddle but they were just not into it. Some would blame it on the full moon the night before but I’m not a firm believer in that theory. I would say it’s a combination of not playing the tides correctly and the pressure these fish see in this very recreational area. I managed one ladyfish to knock the skunk off my shoulder.

Rob and the sunrise

 

One of the best flats anglers out there.

 

Relationship between environment and the busy world.

 

As busy as this body of water was, there was something I noticed. There was life and there was a lot of it. The amount of wading birds taking advantage of an extremely low tide was a clear indication that it was a sustainable area. Along with crabs, fish and rays, I found a few large lightning whelk. Along with the wildlife, there was some wild life. Boaters, jet skiers, kayakers, ultralights, campers, shore anglers, picnics, everyone was out to have their own adventure on the water just like we were. It was great to see so many people enjoying the water but to be honest, it’s a place I would never fish if I lived there. I like solitude and isolation but it was great to paddle a new area and explore.

Lightning whelk.

Taking flight.

 

It’s not always what happens on the water that is as much an adventure as what it takes to get to and from the water. After loading the kayaks up and getting in the truck in search of some local Mexican food, I quickly realized I had a flat tire on my wheelchair. I was rolling on brand new tires and tubes and left my spare at home because I figured I was safe. The first bike shop did not have my odd size tube so they sent us to City Cycle & Supply where Mike took great care of my tire and had us out the door after telling us all about the giant snook his son reeled in the previous week. Off to Mexican followed by some R&R for another day on the water.

Sea grape leaf.

The Sunday plan had us meeting up with an old skater friend Matt and kayak fishing guide and friend, Derick. Derick previously informed me where we were going to fish and I checked it out via Google Earth and quickly realized it would be more my pace. Upon waking up, Rob informed me that Derick was not going to make it because his truck wouldn’t start. We continued to our destination where we launched and poked around the ramp for a bit until we figured Matt would be a no-show. It was a bummer neither could make it but Rob and I would be just fine. More fish for us. Prior to launching the boats, I was taking this photo below when I found a penny, heads down. Most people don’t pick them up but I do. I’ve also caught plenty of quality fish with a banana on board. The glass can be as empty or full as you wish and it will all taste the same.

3,2,1 blastoff.

 

1 of 3 eagles we saw Sunday morning.

Got places to go, faces to film.

 

After riding the outgoing tide and catching five small and healthy snook, we were introduced to Tampa Bay. It was much more windy than expected but I’ve never met a weather man that told the truth. With some intel text messages from Derick, we were able to hone in on some fish. The sixth fish was another common snook but fairly bigger than the first few. Steady winds restricted us from sight fishing the flats so stake out and blind cast became the game. I perched myself on the edge of a drop and worked the darker water clockwise with a cast on each minute. The 12 O’clock position possessed a 32” snook that was quick to extract 30 yard of braid from the reel. A beautiful fish it was but I could tell she was wore out from the extreme runs she produced. I pulled her from the water for a quick photo and sent her swimming. Before an hour passed I was able to relive it all again with another snook just a scale smaller than the first. The strike alone on the second is an image that won’t leave my memory for some time. Same situation with the extreme outburst leaving the fish wore out so she stayed in the water as much as possible. These large fish truly have no reason to be removed from the water and I’m slowly doing my part to adapt to just that. There is no need for a selfish hero shot on every fish but sometimes the excitement will get the best of us.

A couple and their dog were the only ones out with us Sunday.

 

My inner most bird bank doesn't know what kind of bird this is.

 

Snook are by far my most beloved species to catch. Fighting a 6” snook can bring me just as much joy as a 16”, 26” or 36”.  This beautiful and powerful fish often takes skill and knowledge to simply hook and pulling them from whatever structure they call home can take some finesse. Luckily for me, this pair was caught in open water. The bait was my new go-to red head MirroLure with single VMC inline hooks. Only one of the double inline hooks were set in both fish and when I had full control of the fish, the hook was removed effortlessly. In 2014 I started removing all treble hooks from hardbaits and could not be happier. It not only reduces the amount of small fish caught but it reduces the fish handling time. In the long run, reduced fish handling time results in more fish caught. My stock treble hook collection continues to grow.

I fish saltwater because bass don't get this big.

Thanks for the fun afternoon, Mother Nature.

Tampa Bay was once healthy enough to provide for the community because it produced more than the demands would meet. It fell over time because of the uncontrollable growth of Forida. The clear water that was once littered with life and color became murky and littered with pollutants. Humans are the only ones to blame for its decline and I’m happy to say the same humans are responsible for it bouncing back with all of its power over recent decades. Efforts were made and the relationship between humans and environment on the west coast of Florida do their best to find that happy medium. I have grown up on the east coast of Florida on the Indian River Lagoon and we are at a pinnacle point of human and environment conflict. My weekend trip to Tampa Bay was much more than an adventure with friends. It put things into perspective and sent a message of hope that if we work hard enough, we can restore the environment. It’s because of our environment that we can continue building great memories such as the ones I made over the weekend.

If you find yourself in the Tampa Bay area and in need of a great fishing guide, look up my buddy Derick at www.phatfishkayakcharters.com. He will be happy to show you around while you soak up the health of Tampa Bay that once had no hope.

 

I’ve not only rebuilt a 50 year old Chevy, I’ve rebuilt a life along with it.

I first lost my driver’s license in 1996 due to an alcohol problem. I lost it four more times since then. The 5^th and last time I lost it was in 2003 when I also lost something very valuable to me and that was my ability to walk. Due to an ATV accident while intoxicated, I am now a paraplegic. It was obvious that I had a problem with drinking and didn’t care much for any consequences. I wanted to live fast and was totally ready to die young.

Times have changed and I live a very slow life now and fear death. This new found love of life came quickly after I quit drinking alcohol in 2010. Things started looking up and I was getting healthy again, like when I was in my youth. After some long battles with the law and court, I was fortunate enough to earn my driver’s license back. It was extremely hard work but I never gave up. 2012 was a great year as I smiled because I knew I was going to be a legal and responsible driver again.

Life had hit an all new high but I was missing one thing, a vehicle. I had made it this far and I would accept nothing less than a truck that would make me happy. A truck that had soul and would never make it to the graveyard. Because of its body style, the 60-66 Chevy C-10 had been a favorite of mine since I was young and it would be the Chevy C-10 that I would seek. Countless hours were spent online searching for the right buy. It was on Craigslist that my Father finally found one in his area in Carolina. After sending a mechanic there to inspect, the truck was paid for. The former Navy Seal that owned the truck had it loaded on the trailer within days and on his way to sunny Florida where it would take residence in my possession.

First impression of the truck was sky high but it was quickly shot down when it wouldn’t start. I feared the worst but hoped for the best and the best just so happened to be it was out of gas. We gassed it, drove it off the trailer and down the road. Finally, my hard work paid off. My dedication, my determination, my perseverance, my goals and my will power all came together with a huge feeling of accomplishment.

The C-10 came to me in good condition but it just wasn’t mine, yet. Sure it was paid off, sure I owned the key and title but there was just something missing. The connection and bond was made as soon as I started working on her and it would build over time. I would create a truck that would be my style. I would create a truck that I would be happy to drive. I would create a truck that would stand alone. Three years have gone by and the small projects continue with the support of products from LMC. My vision has become a reality.

A daily driver, my C-10 is much more than a truck. It’s a symbol of my life. I load my Ocean Kayak in it on the weekends and take it fishing. The drive to and from the boat ramp are half of the fun of my fishing adventures. The dates that the wife and I take it on make it that much more enjoyable. The comments that come from random people leave a ripple effect of happiness. Each time this truck hits the streets it’s as if it was my first drive. As a kid I would ask my parents to slow down or speed up in order to keep pace with the convoy of classic cars we would see on the road. I’m still very much a kid but I don’t have to ask my parents to speed up or slow down to keep pace with that convoy because I’m usually all up in it.

 

100 miles and paddlin'.

My Bending Branches Angler Ace paddle was very broken-in and pretty worn out but I was going to push it to its limit.  9 months of mini adventures and it was about to get even more adventurous. But first, it needed a little prep work. I pulled out my orbital sander and knocked down the damage the concrete had done to the edges over the year. Countless steps at the boat ramp from the truck to the kayak and back were enough to mushroom the blades, just a bit.

 

So I was now ready for my 100 mile paddle adventure with my almost brand new blades. The plan was to split the 100 miles between the Florida Everglades and the Indian River Lagoon. Both trips would be approximately 6-7 days and my wheelchair would be of no use while embarked. It’s a simple idea; leave the wheelchair at home in order to push myself harder by walking with my paddle. Friend Wade Hollowell calls it the “half paddle rehab technique”. I simply call it, adapting to life.

 

On November 30^th John Kumiski and I set out for the Everglades. Packing wisely I brought my previous legs, the Bending Branches Angler Classic, with me just to have a spare because you should never go on a trip without an extra paddle. John quickly took a liking to it and it became his primary paddle while his extra became our backup. John’s legs work fine so he strictly used the paddle to propel his kayak.
 

Aside from propelling kayaks and helping me walk, a good paddle will help you feel secure. Like a kid hiding under the sheets from the boogie man, a paddle sitting on your lap makes you feel like you’re safe from any large beast that may come up from the depths or out from the bushes. It’s going to eat the paddle first, right? However, when you do hit something under those dark waters that doesn’t feel like sand, it’ll sure wake you up. Similar to the 12’ crocodile I hit with my boat and paddle at the end of Day 1. Makes me wonder if the boogie man ever knew I was under the sheets.

 

I’m frequently asked how I first came up with the idea of using the paddle as crutches. Unfortunately I never have a true answer for anyone. It was something that I absent mindedly adapted to and ran with, kind of. It’s been about four years now and I continue to do things I’m not fully aware of. Last year I picked up the habit of putting both ends of the paddle into one hand in order to balance as I pulled my kayak up on shore with the other hand. Inch by inch, foot by foot, I’d get it on the beach. In 2010 I would leave my wheelchair very close to the launch area or have someone bring it to me. It was never far away. Today it’s not unheard of for me to leave it at home.
 

People often have a dream of trying to run fast but for whatever reason, you just can get out of slow motion. After my accident in 2003, I had to get used to living a life in slow motion. Things were going to take more time for me to accomplish and this would effect how I live from day to day. That bad dream is where I found reality at midnight on Day 3. Something crawling on my back woke me up and after I tried to brush it off, I was stung. Running far from my tent was on my priority list but this was reality, not my dreams. After getting stung a second time trying to get out of the mess I was in, I grabbed my paddle and walked away. I’m laughing hysterically from the outside looking in as I watch a helpless guy in slow motion get stung in his tent. I know, that’s mean. Our gear was packed and I wasn’t going back into the tent until it was cleaned out in the daylight. We made a glassy 11 mile paddle on Florida Bay under the night’s sky that night. If nightmares become beautiful dreams to remember, this night would have been one.
 

The sting totally makes up for the lack of size.

Exploring the beaches of Cape Sable can be pretty cool. It’s not like there is a beach access for tourist and locals to go sunbathing at. The beach is the southern most point of the mainland of Florida and very isolated. You can watch the sun rise and set with zero obstructions. To walk this entire beach would be a pretty cool thing to do but for now I only venture within 100 yards of my tent. My legs will give out long before my paddle does and crawling is something I do but try to avoid. Upon my 100 yard exploration I found some cool shells but most of them we all occupied. Including this little guy. I truly do like long walks on the beach but they tend to be short.  
 

The Florida Everglades are a true gem and that was the first of many camping/kayak fishing adventures to be made. It just doesn’t get any better than campfires at the end of the United States while being off the grid. We spend too many hours logged on these days.
 

I got back to Melbourne in order to squeeze in a week of work and get back to the water by the following weekend for the last leg of the IRL Paddle Adventure (www.irl-paddle-adventure.com). The IRLPA is an event where people paddle the entire 156 miles of the Indian River Lagoon for any amount of days or miles. It raises awareness for the lagoon as well as marine stewardship and funds for educational programs on the IRL. Last year I did the entire trip but this year I only planned to do the last 50 miles.

 

One of the many stops along the way is River Palm Cottages and Fish Camp in Jensen Beach. At this location we would stay for two nights, giving the paddlers a full day of R&R. This was great for the people that had been on the water for a while but I was only two days in. Boredom found me pretty quick but it’s my fault because I’m an organizer of the IRLPA. The walks from the shore to the cottage would later become the reason for my aches and pains. 200+ steps it would take for one trip and by the end of the two night stay, I had made 8 trips. These trips would not include the eagerly challenging walk to the end of the dock and back that called out my name. After all, I had all day to get out there and back.
 

Rules #1 when walking on a dock using your paddle:

Always face the paddle blades in the opposite directions of the grooves between the dock planks.

It was a Monday and the place was quiet. I sat at the end of the dock with a pelican and read a book by good friend Capt Rodney Smith. I did the reading while the pelican watched. The distance I had traveled on this day alone would be huge. Not only did I make it out here but I would have to make it back to the beach, to the cottage, to the vehicle that would take us to dinner, into the restaurant and back to the cottage when it was all over. Each mission was an adventure of its own. I knew I would get to each place one step at a time.

 

One of the major obstacles I face by walking with my paddle or even crutches is a slick floor. There is zero grip on a slick floor and I found this out a long time ago but was reminded of it while walking into the restaurant this night as the paddle slipped out and I fell on the sidewalk. Falls are nothing new to me considering I grew up skateboarding. Many broken bones, stitches and concussions have molded me into a sidewalk warrior. However, my heart goes out to those who see a handicap person fall because it’s instant panic. “I’m ok I’m ok, I’m a pro”.
 

We ate like Kings and Queens at Mulligan’s Bar and Grill. Before we left I couldn’t help but notice a large amount of white stuff under my chair. It was dark so I poked it with my paddle and after deciding it was safe to touch, I found out it was a pile of sand. While I was enjoying my day at the River Palm beach I must have filled the open ends of my paddle with sand and accidently dumped it on the floor of the restaurant. Good thing it was the Holiday season because the waitress got an extra big tip.
 

After leaving there the next day we caught up with a couple media representatives at which time I informed them I would prefer to do interviews by the water because I was a paraplegic and didn’t like to walk very far. It never gets old seeing the face on some people while I sit in my kayak and explain my condition. The kayak is like my invis-disability cloak. “You’re what? Where is your wheelchair?” Less talk about my mobility and more talk about the IRL Paddle Adventure.
 

We pushed on and finished the trip on December 18^th, raising close to $4,500 for educational programs on the Indian River Lagoon. It was a great time and I’m looking forward to a bigger and better event next year. In the end I paddled over 100 miles, collected a bunch of lures, caught tons of fish, met new people, hung with old friends and made some memories I will forever keep with me. Beside me every step of the way was my trusty Bending Branches paddle that never gives up on me.
 

A paddle can be an object that is a tool for your boat or it can be something totally different. My paddle has taken me to places that were once told never possible. It goes without saying that I depend on and put confidence in a product. In 2003 I was told I’d never walk again. In 2014 I stood up in my Ocean Kayak while on the water for the very first time.

Thank you, Bending Branches.
 

7 Days in the Glades

I had just got finished paddling 170 miles, the entire Indian River Lagoon and all I could think about is what was next? Where can I paddle my boat again? I NEED MORE. During that trip, John Kumiski (fellow paddler) mentioned fishing the Florida Everglades and that seriously sparked my attention. My idea started out as a circumnavigation trip around Florida Bay but it quickly became a backwater adventure with John. I couldn’t find anyone to do the big Florida Bay trip with and I knew John was very knowledgeable on the Everglades so I decided to get my feet wet with him and start slow. Besides, I know I have plenty of time at 37 years old because of the inspiration I found in Nick Colantonio, another fellow 170 mile paddler at the young age of 73.

So the trip made its way into our calendar for the first week in December, 2014. Our float plan wasn’t 100% nailed down but that only makes it more of an adventure. We arrived in Flamingo around noon on Sunday, November 30^th. After checking in with the Ranger Station, we quickly found out just how much of an adventure we’d have. We would split the seven day adventure into two different trips. The first leg we would head west and the second, east. It was the west leg that the Ranger could not inform us if it was passable or not. Her words were, “Why would you want to go back there? There are a lot of crocodiles back there”. John and I simply grinned, got our permits and told them we would be back in a few days to inform them if it was passable or not.

No turning back.

 

After getting a good nights rest at the Flamingo campground, we set out of Coot Bay Pond first thing Monday morning. Our destination??? Somewhere around Gator Lake. We didn’t really know, but we had ideas. After passing Coot Bay the mangrove tunnel took us to Mud Lake and then to Bear Lake, where we had to make our first big decision. We knew at the end of the three mile stretch of Bear Lake was where the possible impassable area awaited us. It was about noon and our options were camp at the only dry land in Bear Lake where we were and get a fresh start in the morning, or push to see if we could make it to Gator Lake to camp for the night. My gut said push on and so we did. The deeper into the Everglades you go, the more isolated you get. At the western most point of Bear Lake is where we found the wall of mangroves. John had paddled this area in the 80’s but 35 years of mangrove growth can change the way things look. I knew less than one hundred yards of mangrove separated us from the next body of water, but how would we get through? If you are unaware, your phone does not use a cell signal for the GPS. This is something I knew before we started so I found the thinnest passage via Google Earth and it was there that we found a very skinny pass. We made it to the other side but it was now a race against daylight. Our first optional camp site was nowhere to be found because there was no dry land where John once camped. My phone gave us a Plan B and we set out to make a passage out of a small canal that flowed out into Florida Bay. Before reaching that canal I had the pleasure of running my kayak right up on top of a very unhappy 12’ sleeping crocodile. The paddling speed increased only to find we had to portage over a large log in the canal and then find we had hit a dead end. With the luck of the Irish on our side, there was dry land. It couldn’t have come at a better time because now the sun was down. We slept to the buzzing sound of a thousand mini street bikes circling our tent all night. There was no shortage of mosquitoes in this deep dark corner of the Glades. The long day of fishing and paddling included an upper 20” snook for John and three aired out tarpon for me, getting one to the boat. 13+ miles was now in the books.

The first catch of the trip was this shrimp that jumped in Johns boat. He ate it. 

Portage over large logs are always fun with an additional 150lbs in your boat.

 

Day three was upon us and we were quick to get out of the still-water dead end we called home. Another portage and a hundred yard paddle would get us into the open air and free from the bugs. We had a quick breakfast and set out for the Homestead Canal. Homestead Canal would eventually turn into the East Cape Canal which would take us out to Florida Bay where we planned to camp on East Cape Sable. The canal is very long, straight and narrow. Without being able to see the end, the mangrove shoreline visually becomes a funnel for you to paddle down. Fishing along the way truly became a hard task for us considering we didn’t see many fish with the exception of a lone tailing red drum. It was a quiet and relaxing paddle with the slightest tailwind. We both took it all in until we were greeted by group of close to 20 American Crocodiles on a mudslide. They were quick to slide into the water as we paddled close but after they figured out we were no threat, they all came back out of the water. The power of feeling very much alive at that point was uncontrollable. There were crocs to the left, to the right, at our bow, at our stern and right underneath us. We had gone on such a mission to make it to this point that I had a good feeling they don’t see very many people. It’s said that 20 years ago there were nothing but alligators in these backwaters but they have all been driven north by the endangered crocs. Wikipedia states: “The current US population, estimated at 2,000, is a significant comeback from the few hundred in the 1970s”. We took some photos, left them alone and carried on. It was a privilege to paddle among this large group of protected predators.

 "Let me get my map, I think we may have made a wrong turn"

"Hey John, take a photo of me with all these crocs"

Due to a large damn in the East Cape Canal, we took a detour around it and that is when we started to find some tidal influence and current. Typically where you find a tide pushing into or pulling from a bay or estuary, you will find fish. And that we did. It was while we were eating that I heard the ever so patented slurp of a snook. One cast is all it took and I pulled up a nice silver and yellow common snook. I managed to catch over ten of these fellas between the lengths of 16”-28” all using a spinning rod with a D.O.A. Tiny TerrorEyz. John was using his fly rod and managed a nice jack crevalle. The afternoon was short lived because our check-in time at East Cape Sable was preferably before dark. We let the outgoing tide take some weight off our paddle while it sucked us right out into Florida Bay. Once we hit the Bay we paddled west and setup camp at East Cape Sable. This is where we would spend two nights on the white sandy beach.

 

Caught well over 30 snook on this trip

Lowtide on East Cape Sable

Without seeing a whole lot of activity the last few days, we decided to head right back to where we had found the fish the day before. After setting a hook in another large amount of snook, I decided to take out my fly rod. Prior to the trip, Rodney Smith had lent me a fly rod and I played around with it a few times with no success. I needed my own setup so I picked up a Redington reel from Harry Goode’s Outdoors Shop and John gave me an older Redington fly rod from his collection. If there was ever a good or easy time for me to catch a fish on a fly, now would be the time. The presentation of a small green minnow under the mangrove was just what I needed to hook that first fish. Unfortunately I was not prepared so I fumbled it and lost the fish. The second hookset was not the case and I pulled in a nice snook. I quickly stopped while I was ahead because it was windy and I hooked the back of my hat. John managed a few snook as well as a red drum. It ended up being a fun afternoon and we made our way back to our beachfront condo.

Jack & John.

1st ever fish on a fly.

Sunset on East Cape Sable.

Our next day paddle would be from East Cape Sable to Flamingo, consisting of 11 miles and the winds were going to be against us. John suggested we paddle very early to beat the afternoon winds so an alarm was set for 3:00am. Little did we know, Mother Nature had another plan for us. After smashing rotted wood for the fire, I must have managed to carry a critter back into my tent with me. I was awakened at midnight by something crawling on my back. Obviously it didn’t like the way I tried to brush it off because immediately I was stung on my back. Pushing the sleeping bag down to the foot of my tent caused me to get stung again on my hand. My first and second ever scorpion sting found me not wanting to spend another second in my tent until daylight so I packed it up and waited for John’s alarm to go off. That wouldn’t happen because I was too loud while packing up and woke him. We were on the water paddling to Flamingo before 12:30am. If you have never paddled in the middle of nowhere under an almost full moon with very calm conditions, I suggest you do. The moon set beyond the horizon around 4:00am and that left us in total darkness for the next 1.5 hours. The sky turned into a backlit piece of black paper with a thousand tiny pinholes in it. Jellyfish flashed a bright glow when we paddled over them and I was able to count nine falling stars with John pointing out one passing satellite. There was a moment when I hiked my Extrasport PFD up high on my neck in order to rest my head back to stare straight up. With motionless paddles on our lap we became hypnotized by the sky and let the water carry us where it wanted. We spent a half hour suspended in time, nothing else in the world existed.

Small critter, BIG sting.

Nights destination? The tiny red dot.

Hard to take an open shutter shot while on the water

 

If first light was controllable, we may have stalled it for a while. However, I was sidetracked by the large smacks echoing on the water. We had made it to the western most point of Flamingo and there was a large number of mullet in the area that the jacks did not have a problem taking advantage of. A bone colored #11 Rapala Skitter Walk with two single 2/0 inline VMC hooks showed no mercy on these fish. That was until a quick five second fight with one was ended by way of an extra large shark. Skitter Walk and fish, GONE. Good thing I’ve found over 100 lures this year to make up for that lost one. We moved on towards the marina and were accompanied by a few glistening sunrise tarpon. Too bad they don’t take as easy as jacks do. We landed at the marina, packed our gear up, bought some ice cream, reported to the Ranger and relaxed for the rest of the day at the Flamingo campground. This would be a day to take a hot shower and plan our second leg of our adventure.

American Crocodile

Wild orchid

Friday morning we headed out of West Lake and made our way to the Shark Point Chickee, 12+ mile trek in total. Paddling would be a bit easier because our load would be less. We only planned to stay out for two days on this trip. West Lake would take us to Long Lake then to The Lungs and eventually dump us out into Garfield Bight, part of Florida Bay. Again we didn’t find many fish in the backwaters except for a juvenile tarpon I was able to air out. I was very much preoccupied by the wildlife during this paddle. Wild orchids clung on to the large driftwood mangrove stumps. Stalking birds waded in the water as well as in the trees above. What sounded like a waterfall was a raft of thousands of coots taking off as I paddled into them. John was first to clear all the spider webs in each of the mangrove tunnels except the last. He fell back a bit and asked if I wanted to go first this time. This would be the last tunnel we would face before we entered Garfield Bight. This would also be the tunnel with countless mudslides and extra large crocodiles. Most of which knew we were there long before we knew they were, except one. My adrenaline maxed out as an extremely large lizard ran full speed in my direction. The tunnel is not ten feet wide or four feet high but I knew it was deep and knew that was where he was heading. Like a freight train entering the water he disappeared under my boat leaving me with a whole lot of wake. John had officially cleared all the spiders out of seven tunnels and I cleared the crocs out of one. I staked out in Garfield Bight to wait for John and while trying to relax, I heard water movement behind me. No need for alarm on this one, it was only an eight foot shark stalking the flats.

A raft of Coots

Shark Point Chickee.

Bald Eagle always has his eye on you.

 

A 2.5 mile paddle now separated us from the Shark Point Chickee but John and I had some serious fishing to make up for. We paralleled the shore with John on the inside and I covered 20 yards out. Quickly John found himself standing in his Ocean Kayak Drifter, lined up with a red drum. I watched as his presentation of the fly was spot on and a red drum raised the water on the attempt to connect only to bail out at the last second. The water was not as clear as we wanted so I blind casted a Slayer Inc S.S.T. in root beer/chartreuse and the snook loved it. The further into Bay we paddle, the clearer the water got, giving me a nice shot at a sightcast on a snook. I got a great hookset in that fish and three more tried to take the bait from it. These fish were aggressive and could have cared less if I was there. Opposed to the common snook I was able to catch on the inside, these snook were much darker and possessed more weight. A juvenile bald eagle was observing me from a close 20’ until an osprey chased it off. It was a great end of the day but before I hit our chickee I was greeted by a 100lb tarpon cutting the knee high water with its dorsal fin. Sometimes simply observing these great fish can leave a lasting memory far beyond any hero picture ever will. It was a hard day for me to pick a highlight.

Osprey, one of the best anglers out there.

 

Shark Point Chickee was our home for the last night of our adventure. The Everglades has a lot of chickees but this may be the coolest, by far. “Chickee” is the word used by the Seminoles for a post supported shelter with open sides. Raised above the seafloor 10’, this chickee is equipped with a port-o-potty, a loading deck and two sleeping decks. You can watch the sun come up and you can watch it go down. There is no pillow fluffing here but you sure can’t beat the view. Our neighbors were a couple of former local boys that knew the area well but had moved north later in life. It was the first time in 6 days that we engaged in an actual conversation with someone other than each other. I would have been just as happy being there alone. One of the main reasons we took the rout we took was for the solitude.

Doing what it takes to keep the snook out of the mangroves.

See the difference in color of this snook and the one above.

  

Day 7, where did it all go? We pushed back to the shoreline we fished on the way out. This would take us back into Garfield Bight and then Snake Bight before hitting Flamingo, totaling just over 9 miles. Garfield Bight produced the same conditions we had the day before but when we got to Snake Bight, the world changed. A small breeze started to push us towards Flamingo along with an outgoing tide but the water sat like a sheet of glass. It made paddling effortless and John used a cut gallon jug as a drift sock to slow him down, I used my feet. The only ripples created on the water were caused by fish. Finally, Mother Nature gave us a break on our final day. The gin clear water was loaded with life including red drum, snook, sea trout and sharks. Sight fishing became the name of the game. Multiple attempts were made at tailing reds with no luck. These fish had their head buried so far into the tall grass that they had no clue we were there. That changed when the water got low enough for them to move out and find food on the go. My go-to color of the Slayer Inc S.S.T. was what it took. Out of the 5+ tails I stalked and three fish I hooked, one made it back to the boat. It was by far a walk in the park but the red drum I pulled off was very rewarding. We coasted the rest of the way to Flamingo barely making it out of the bight before low tide left us high and dry.

Tailing red drum.

One of the many sharks crusing the flats.

 

That was it. We weren’t out of the water before we started talking about coming back. How could we do it better? When can we come back? This would be my first fishing adventure in the Florida Everglades and an adventure it was. Everything that we encountered made it more of an adventure and brought me closer to nature more than I already was. If you intend to take a trip like this I suggest you know what you’re doing. Have a great boat to begin with. I used an Ocean Kayak Big Game 2 and John paddled an Ocean Kayak Drifter. Safety always comes first so make a checklist of emergency and survival equipment along with food/water and backup supplies, should something break. Make sure someone has your float plan with departure/arrival dates and alternate contacts. Be 100% confident in your gear, plan for the worst and hope for the best. Safety, safety, safety. If you have a good grip on these things, go out and make a memory you will never forget and always keep in mind that we don’t run things in these areas, the wildlife does. Respect our environment so future generations can enjoy it as much as we do.

 

 

Where the water turns into the sky.