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Reel anticipation
By MIKE SCARANTINO It has been said, "When life gets in the way of living, you have a problem." But when it gets in the way of fishing, you have a reel problem. Life got out of the way last weekend for my brother-in-law, Jim Keely, who went fishing for the first time in three years. His anticipation level was through the roof. He even got to fish during the past new-moon phase, the best for angling. Boat activity and a possible brief summer storm aside, we figured on some good fishing. At least we would enjoy a rare day of angling together. In Jim's three fishless years, he patiently would listen to all of my outdoor escapades, then he'd look at the pictures longingly. How he didn't go out of his mind is a mystery. Jim, consequently, wanted our trip to be a great adventure. He thought we could begin the fun Saturday night by watching the Lennox Lewis-Mike Tyson fight. We would get to bed late but needed to be on the water before first light. Bait fish schools have been skittish when the light gets too bright. With less than three hours of sleep, we launched the boat before the early morning's gray light even hinted at the horizon. Everything was ready. The reels were freshly lined, the chum was prepared, and the boat was humming quietly. It was time for catching bait. The first spot netted large, slab-sized scaled sardines, which are perfect for feeding snook. The next location yielded mixed-sized baits for the trout and redfish that would complete Jim's inshore slam. The breeze freshened considerably from the northeast while we caught bait, an awkward omen for angling this coast. Northeast wind stalls a rising tide and sends the outgoing tide out faster than normal, leaving potentially good angling areas barren. A Northeast breeze is associated with higher barometric pressure, which can alter the behavior of feeding fish. If the wind wasn't enough, there was the Keely curse. Murphy's Law plays a high hand whenever he intends to go fishing, but I was determined to find him his slam. Not wanting to beat our heads searching for snook amid the heavy Anclote Island traffic, we made our way north along the mainland. We worked rock piles in deep water, then shallow mangrove edges and creek mouths. The snook hit fast. Jim's hook set was exact. The fish leaped, then turned back for the safety of the mangrove. Jim turned its head in time, leading the snook to the boat. Not large, the catch measured a mere 22 inches but was a snook nonetheless. I was fishless. We followed the rising tide north in hope of a few trout. We would begin targeting redfish after the tide dropped. We anchored on a spot where the large trout had been easy to catch a week earlier. We sat and sat, but nothing happened. We moved a few feet toward a small school of mullet, and Jim's cork instantly was pulled under. In the clear water, it was easy to see the bright copper color of his redfish. We needed to find just one trout to finish off the slam. It didn't matter what size fish he caught; we just needed a trout. You would think finding a single trout would be easy, right? Wrong. It took three-plus hours to locate one. In the interim, Jim wrestled with a good-sized jack. I caught a small backwater barracuda, and that was it. I was having a bad day. Jim worked a jig, but nothing happened. We moved, and he changed jig colors in another attempt. Still not a bite. We went to an entirely different area. Jim tied on a different jig, and I suggested he leave a bait floating on a cork behind the boat. He worked his jig, and I sat watching the cork. Jim grabbed fast when the cork went under and the rod bent. It was his trout -- not big, but the fish we sought. He spoke nervously about quickly getting the trout in the boat. Jim's inshore slam and pride were at stake. He saved face and got over the curse. As for me, hopefully the hex doesn't continue. -- If you have a question or comment, call Capt. Mike Scarantino, (352) 683-4868.
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • Tampa Bay Times
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