A trip to the ‘States (even if it’s for a tackle show) wouldn’t be complete without getting a line wet for keen lure fisherman Mark Kitteridge...

Over 24 hours of travel was followed by three long, intense days at the ICAST Fishing Expo in Orlando, Florida. This massive event allows fishing-tackle manufacturers, distributors and retailers to gather and see what’s on offer and establish, rekindle, reinforce or expand sales-driven relationships.

But with the show over, it was time for my reward: a day out on the Indian River Lagoon fishing with Scott MacCalla of Backcast Charters, kindly organised by new friend Glenn Young, the US National Sales Manager for Z-Man soft-plastics.

In reality, the ‘lagoon’ incorporates three lagoons: Mosquito Lagoon (which, as I found out, is aptly named!); Banana Lagoon; and the Indian River Lagoon system itself. Predominantly narrow in form, this brackish system is around 160km long and makes up a significant part of the Atlantic intracoastal waterway. It is also the most bio-diverse waterway in the Northern Hemisphere, its often-turbid waters, silty bottom and seagrass meadows combining with mangrove forests and salt marshes to provide a home for many thousands of different plants and animals. However, I was only genuinely interested in a fraction of these organisms – those with fins and scales that like eating soft-plastic lures.

At the top of my wish list was tarpon, which grow to well over 45kg [100lb] here, followed closely by redfish, black drum and snook. The somewhat smaller speckled/spotted trout came next, with the possibility of catching ladyfish, catfish and silver trout keeping things interesting.

A planned 4:30am start meant it made sense to stay at Scott’s place overnight, but I was so excited I didn’t sleep a wink. So, it was a somewhat bleary-eyed, but still enthusiastic, Kiwi who arose at the appointed time. And my enthusiasm only intensified when Scott revealed his well set-up flats skiff in the garage.

After a brief stop at the local service station to eat breakfast and buy lunch (which made me realise just how good we have it back in New Zealand – talk about over-processed, over-packaged and unhealthy tucker!), we arrived at a dark, deserted boat ramp, closely followed by a steady stream of cars trailing boats.

Scott had the skiff launched and the vehicle parked in no time, a routine he’d obviously practised hundreds of times before. Meanwhile, I watched transfixed as the illuminated water surrounding the ramp dimpled and splashed as hundreds of small fish and other critters fed or tried to escape bigger things trying to eat them.

Then, as we slowly cruised a kilometre or so towards the lake proper, the abundant life became even more apparent, with a never-ending spatter of tiny baitfish and shrimps skipping away from our boat.

Scott was very keen to get us out to his lake-edge posse before the sun came up, but we couldn’t resist stopping for a few casts at the causeway’s illuminated access point, as spotted trout often lie in ambush there.



 

Not that trout – another trout!

Glenn quickly attached the tiniest of lead-heads and a small but very bait-fish looking soft-bait to my borrowed outfit, while Scott recommended casting as close to the entrance structure as possible. The size and lightness of my diminutive offering took me by surprise, my first cast resulting in an unidentified touchdown in the darkness. Even so, my lure attracted two sharp raps on its descent through the dark water. Something was home.
 

“Quick! Cast again, Mark!”

I did as I was bid and this time the hook found its mark. Barely. Only slight pressure pulled back, and upon getting my unimpressive adversary to the boat, I learned I’d caught a silver trout, a smaller relative of the speckled trout. When subsequent casts resulted in several more small trout and no sign of anything bigger, Scott got us to wind in.
 

Sneaky snook

Although it was still fairly dark when we arrived at our destination, Scott began poling us silently accross the dark shallows and directed me to cast my soft-bait towards the shoreline, indicated by a dark silhouette suggesting a tangle of thick undergrowth and fallen trees.

The fallen trees were largely due to a hurricane the previous year, and as the sky lightened, I could also make out big clumps of debris, some high up in trees, including the wreckage of boats and buildings. My challenge was to get my unweighted soft-bait right in amongst the structure and vegetation, as snook are ambush feeders.

Contrary to my hopes, my American hosts weren’t wowed by my soft-baiting skills. Quite the reverse in fact! I continually struggled with the lack of lure weight at the end of my line, resulting in some wayward and mistimed casts, and my overall technique was apparently all wrong, too.

“Mark, you need to cast further up ahead of the skiff. The boat’s pressure waves alert the fish well before they see a soft-bait that’s cast out to the side. And don’t jiggle your lure around so much – a straight retrieve generally works better.”

They had to tell me twice: I’m programmed to cast at angles that let me maintain tension in the line to better manipulate the lure and detect bites. Casting ahead of the boat, as they suggested, with boat and lure moving towards each other, introduced lots of slack line, which goes against the grain for me. However, I eventually arrived at a compromise I could live with, and a sharp bite was converted into a hook-up followed by a lacklustre fight that resulted in my first real American sport fish: a one kilo snook!


Mark's snook

My initial disappointment lasted for only a couple of minutes because, in addition to hooking a larger snook that gave a far better account of itself just two casts later, Scott announced that good numbers of small tarpon were rolling and swirling up ahead!
 

Tarpon on!

Talk about excited! I couldn’t believe I was about to encounter the species at the top of my bucket list. However, it was Glenn – who’s caught gazillions of tarpon before – who gave a whoop as his soft-bait was inhaled, and within moments 1.5 kilos of chrome-sided tarpon was bouncing around our boat. I admit to having uncharitable thoughts when he hooked up first, and a certain amount of resentment at having to take pictures of him and the glittering prize before it was released!

Noting my quivering bottom lip, Glenn replaced my soft-bait with a 4-inch JerkshadZ in pearl, although I had my doubts about how he hooked it – straight across the nose, just like a live bait!

But that did the trick, despite the fact I sneakily started twitching it a bit whenever I thought Scott wasn’t looking, hooking two tarpon in quick succession.

The first fish was only a kilo, so it simply ticked the species list, but the second was memorable. I’d cast in response to a nearby swirl, and Glenn and I were both watching the twitching lure moving back towards us when it was engulfed!

Although no more than 2.7kg, this tarpon’s fight was infinitely more impressive, first bursting away on a powerful run and then jumping powerfully and crazily, forcing me to ‘bow to the king’, the recommended strategy that involves dipping the rod down whenever a tarpon jumps to avoid busting off. The tarpon’s speed was amazing, too. I was led all around the boat, the fight forcing me to rapidly change rod angles in my attempts to gain control. At one stage I nearly had my rod broken when the fish spun on its tail and darted back under the boat. Only pushing the rod deep into the water avoided tragedy.

Finally, there it was, only about 94lb smaller than my ideal specimen and caught on a spin rod rather than a fly rod, but demonstrating why I must keep on chasing these spectacular creatures!
 

Black or red – either’s fine!

With the action slowing, Scott suggested chasing drum – both black and red drum swim in these waters. The red drum is known as redfish in Florida and I was really keen to catch one. However, it was the darker tail of the black drum that rose up like a flag ahead of then boat. Apparently, black drums are not as active as redfish, so a slower retrieve and some scent added to the lure is required to get them biting.

Glenn replaced my JershadZ with a ShrimpZ and told me to try and be especially accurate with my casting. He wanted me to get the lure near or past the drum. Ideally, he wanted my lure to remain stationary after the cast, but if necessary I could bring my unweighted offering slowly back through the school.

But that advice was for more experienced shallows fishermen. In my case, buck fever took hold, and I fluffed my first shot by again trying too hard with my casting. And my second opportunity. And my third!

By the sixth attempt, I was getting pretty annoyed with myself, especially when this particular fish charged off in a plume of silt. I thought I’d spooked it, but instead, I heard, “He’s got it!” and split-seconds later my line started zipping away to the right.

Sure enough, upon lifting the rod to set the hook, line sizzled off the reel as the black drum bulldozed away, pushing a good wake in the super-shallow water. Although not as spectacular as the tarpon, the fish still gave a good account of itself, and it was one very happy Kiwi who finally brought the 5.5kg specimen to the boat where Scott lifted it on board for a quick photo session. Then, to finish the session off nicely, Glenn hooked a drum too on his first attempt, though I was quietly pleased that at least mine was bigger than his!

After that things went quiet and the smothering 35-degree heat started to make me sleepy. Scott tried to overcome the general torpor by introducing us to a couple of new spots, and although I did catch a ladyfish to add to my new species list, and Glenn caught two catfish, including a reasonably hefty big one that fought hard, our hearts were not really in it. The fish appeared to be having a midday siesta, too. It was time to call it a day – a day I’ll always remember.

Glen Young Boated his chunk black drum


Mark with a solid black drum on a soft-plastic

Glenn Young and tarpon

Not just about the fishing
I was amazed by the variety of wildlife in the area – I’d never seen anything like it before. Even before the sun came up, I was shocked to discover a nearby log was actually an alligator. Next came bald eagles, perched regally up in the trees, along with a huge variety of other birds over the course of the morning, including spoonbill, brown pelican, wood stork, black vulture, double-crested cormorant, various egrets and herons. In short, it was an ornithologist’s delight! 
I was also surprised to see dolphins cruising around the shallow, tannin-stained waters, as well as turtles and even a manatee, with this last putting on such a crazily active display in the shallows that it looked like an underwater volcano erupting! If you like seeing new creatures, this is a wonderful place to be.

 

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This article is reproduced with permission of                    New Zealand Fishing News                 February 2019 - Mark Kitteridge         Re-publishing elsewhere is prohibited