Slim pickings in paradise
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.
