This past week I had a chance to sneak back down to the Keys (Marathon, FL) with some buds I’ve known since high school – including my cousin, whose family has plied the Atlantic down there for years. We’re all longer in the tooth and a bit less spry than we once were, but you’re never too old to learn new stuff. In fact, we learned that birds sometimes mean dolphin, more often tuna, most often nothing. That a few birds are better than a flock of birds. That tuna are real fast. That our eyes aren’t what they once were. And not just our eyes. That marlin aren’t accommodating. That the sun in the Keys is hotter than a Cambodian cathouse. That hardcore offshore angling is not just the province of the young. That crabs like beer, tarpon can cost you a limb, sharks can clap, shared bathrooms can be hazardous, blue drinks taste like poo, skunk apes have sex drives, old guys get homesick too and tequila in icy drinks can affect departure times. Among other things. Oh, and we learned that you can’t let too many years slide by before spending some quality time with old friends. Er, friends that you’ve known for a long time. Aw hell, you know what I mean.

How it’s done: Wake up late. Complain about heat and crowds when the wife suggests a trip to the beach. Grab the little 4-weight fly rod on the way out, almost as an afterthought. Grumble when she suggests a walk. Spend time casting at and catching a few small snook in the wash until tide goes slack. Trudge along behind wife on the way back to car. See big shadow moving in from deep water. Make wild cast, hook up, see most of line disappear off spool in seconds. Run down the beach looking like a deranged fool. Land big snook. Pose for tourists. Act calm, even seasoned. Hide shaking hands. Follow wife to car, saying what a good idea it was to hit the beach on a lovely Saturday morning. Ignore wife’s wild eye rolling and creative use of action verbs.

Yeah, it’s a fishing site, but into each life a little booze must fall. And what better place to sip a few cold concoctions than sunny Key West, Florida? The name alone evokes a feeling of adventure, escape and, well, debauchery. Those who have been feel its draw long after they’ve left the island behind. Those who have never visited are missing out on a remarkable experience. Read the rest of this entry »

When sight-fishing in shallow water, try to keep the sun behind you (or at least at your side) if at all possible. This will give you a better view of the bottom, your lure or fly, and any fish in the area. A bonus? A bright sun in a fish’s eyes makes you tougher to see, so you can get closer before you place your cast. This simple tip can do wonders for your sight-fishing success.

One of my favorite verses from the Good Book is: “Be still and know that I am God.” It’s a clear directive, one that asks us to set aside the distractions of daily life to ponder the wonders that surround us, ultimately attributing them not to some serendipitous series of cosmic events, but to a Divine mind. Regardless of your beliefs, as an angler there is wisdom in taking moments of silence to reflect on your surroundings. Too often we attack fishing spots without pause, overlooking telling signs and clues…not to mention natural beauty. On a recent trip with a friend we took a quiet and thoughtful approach, drifting slowly across an open bay before sighting (and ultimate hooking) a 100+ lb. tarpon…a fish we never would have seen had we attacked the spot aggressively as we normally do. Point is, there is wisdom in taking the time to stop, observe and think. The best anglers are the most attentive anglers, and to be attentive you must be still.

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Our new puppy Boozer is proud to represent Shallowfish.com. Actually, that’s not true. Boozer pretty much sleeps and poops and could care less about what we do as long as we keep the MilkBones coming.

I’ve been remiss in my posting…my apologies to steady readers. Been busy, but I did get out last Sunday with Joe, back into ENP. Was a slow day for quite a while. We managed 10 or so small snook, all of them under slot, and a chunky little jewfish. But down the stretch we did well, with a nice redfish, a big ole snuke on a topwater plug and scores of missed opportunities. We had to hoof it for the ramp as the sun fell, leaving the hottest bite of the day. Grrrr. I’ll be thinking about the mammoth redfish that were trying to ingest our plugs for some time. The highlight of the day? Drifting into a quiet cove and finding a 100+ lb. tarpon laid up in the shallows, casting to it with light tackle, and hearing my spool erupt like a dentist’s drill gone mad. We didn’t have a camera ready, but I can still see the big ole gal frozen in mid-air before she spit the lure back at me. My hands have stopped shaking and my pants have been cleaned, but I still flinch at quick movements.

Headed into the Glades this past Friday with MoJoe and his two brothers Kevin and Marty (Notre Dame grads, all). Marty hopped on my little skiff, which I hadn’t taken “down south” in a number of years. I was sporting the two new custom rods Joe built for me and my wife - the boy makes some sweet sticks. On the trip down, Joe was gracious enough to keep his 21-foot teleporter under light speed, so he and Kevin stayed within sight. We had precious little action - probably 12-15 smallish snook between us, and one frightened-looking little redfish. (Marty had a shot at a hulking red that sawed at his plug a couple of times, but no dice - lots of muted cursing ensued). In the end, a mounting wind chased us off the water, but not before we had lots of laughs, a beer or two and some of the best damn pork tenderloin sandwiches this angler has ever ingested. (We can’t fish worth a lick, but we can eat with the bets of ‘em). Post trip Joe and I admitted, as we always do, that we are hopelessly in love with the Everglades…even when she’s difficult and moody.

Descending leaders are wonderful when tied correctly, and a well-crafted one will turn over beautifully. But tying a leader that features differing line weights in various lengths can be a time-consuming and even frustrating process. If you’re just concerned with catching fish - instead of setting records or pitching perfect casts - skip the complicated knots and mathematical calculations. In the shallow salt, use an eight to 12-foot section of straight 20-30 lb. leader and you’ll catch plenty of fish. I realize that purists will gasp at this suggestion…and that’s half the fun.

I headed deep into the Glades last week with MoJoe and his brother Danny. We suffered on the long ride down, running 40-50 MPH in 40-degree weather. Brutal. We saw numerous large snook early on, but they had lock-jaw and moved about listlessly in the cold shallows. But the day warmed up nicely, and by mid-afternoon the fish thawed out enough to feed. We enjoyed a banner afternoon from that point on. Joe caught everything that moved and posted a backwater slam (snook, redfish, tarpon), I was one unbuttoned tarpon away from doing the same, and Danny caught snook as fast as he could cast his plug. We feasted on dry salami, Parmesan cheese, spiced olives and Papa Sullivan’s spectacular soft-bread sammies; released over 40 snook and several reds; and basked in crisp, sunny weather. Beat that. I dare you.