Dave and I got out very early this morning and were greeted by bioluminescence in our bow wakes as we paddled out to get bait. Paddling west into the ocean in the pitch black is sometimes spooky but this time the glowing wake and paddle strokes was pretty cool.
I struck first and gave Dave a real good look at the fish as my bait had drifted near him. I'm thinking it and Dave says it - hey, where's the bobber? Slow hit like the fish just opened and swallowed and kept swimming slowly along. Then it got upset and went for the sky. Had her alongside in 12 minutes according to Dave's stop watch. Yes, he times it.
Barnacle got a good drenching by one tail slap as it was near the kayak. He retaliated by trying to bite it as it came out of the water and smacked right into the side of my bow.
The next fish gave me a 'don't text and fish' lesson that could have been costly. Rod laid down, dry box open and in my lap, phone in my hand and BAM a hard hit on my bait and the rod is on it's way. I dumped the open dry box on the floor so everything that was supposed to be dry is now wet and grab the rod. If not for the cross bar in the Native Ultimate that grabbed the reel, it would have been gone. That fish jumped and my line broke. Probably frayed from a tail slap from the first tarpon.
Soon after we had a free jumper right between us. We were about 50 feet apart and one did a beautiful up and horizontal jump that had both of us looking at the other asking "Yours?" This was right after I'd wondered out loud where the fish had gone. It was almost as if it was saying "We're still here" (in their best Jack Nicholson impression)
By 9:30 the wind had died and the temp was going up. I'd had two on the hook and while I wished Dave would get one, it was getting to be time to go in. Then his float went down and the fish went up. He got a couple jumps out of it before she spit the hook.
August. Beach tarpon. By the looks of it today, there's another week or two left.
