A day in the life

The lure of a bait shop

Buying the Weeki Wachee business allows the Magnuson family to turn hobby into a career.

WEEKI WACHEE - The fish was running for the rocks.

For more than an hour Monday, Capts. Mark and Luke Magnuson had waited patiently in their 17-foot Carolina Skiff for a redfish.

Fishing for bait in the Gulf flats north of Bayport in Hernando County had taken longer than expected, and an hour working the backwater out of Bayport had yielded only a couple of small bull sharks and a toadfish.

Any other time of year, it might not be unusual to catch three or four redfish during an eight-hour trip. In mid September, a successful excursion might net as many as eight or nine.

But in late July, fishing between the tides, there was no guarantee even one would bite.

When it did, at 11:10 a.m., it hit with the ferocity of a shark, splashing water and pulling Mark Magnuson's rod across the side of the skiff where it rested.

Instinctively, the fish moved toward a group of rocks in the hopes of wrapping the line around them and, ultimately, breaking it off.

The tide was beginning to recede, revealing the tops of rocks in the shallow water. If the boat didn't leave soon, it could be stuck for hours.

It was, literally, time to fish or cut bait.

Five hours earlier, at 6 a.m., Eric Magnuson opened the Dixie Lee Bait Shop one mile west of Weeki Wachee on Cortez Boulevard. Magnuson's 19-year-old twin sons, Mark and Luke, operate Double Trouble Charters out of the shop.

Standing behind the counter, the sleeves of his striped blue T-shirt revealing powerful forearms, a massive fist obscuring a large foam cup and construction boots on his feet, Magnuson resembled a modern-day Paul Bunyan.

By 6:15, two customers were awaiting the morning's shrimp delivery.

Though the saltwater tank in Magnuson's shop was filled with pinfish, which work equally well as bait, most customers prefer shrimp.

"People are so schooled on using shrimp, if they don't have shrimp, they won't even fish," he said.

Scooby Phipps, 30, of Ocoee, hoped the shrimp would lure trout. While he waited, he told Magnuson about the catfish that once stung his hand, bringing him to his knees with a dull, throbbing pain that ran to his shoulder and lasted almost a week.

Magnuson knew that pain. He once dropped a catfish on his foot, he told Phipps. It ruined a fishing trip and pained him all day.

Patch, one of the family's two cats (Bad Barry is the other), walked through the shop, a leg stretched as if awakening from a nap. The open door occasionally draws black racers, which slither through the shop or into the gardens outside.

At 6:40, a white truck pulled in. Magnuson stepped outside to meet it and returned with a green mesh bag filled with shrimp.

For the rest of the morning, customers came and went, asking for shrimp, ice or supplies, such as a knife sharpener. The squat shop also offers rods and reels, dive equipment for scalloping, snacks, even a "Got Bait?" T-shirt.

Magnuson sent each customer off with well wishes and a hearty laugh.

The fortunate ones return with pictures of the redfish, snook or grouper they caught. Some fill a photo album on the counter, others a picture board near the door.

"Right now, everyone's shark fishing," Magnuson said. "There's a ton of them out there."

For as long as he can remember, Magnuson, 50, of Weeki Wachee has loved the outdoors.

He has fished since he was "knee high to a grasshopper," starting on the Jump River in northern Wisconsin, where he spent endless hours fishing for muskie with his father, Norman.

Since arriving in Hernando County more than 15 years ago, Magnuson has explored the waters in and around the county and, in the process, discovered Dixie Lee Bait.

When the owner decided to retire four years ago, Magnuson and his wife, Sally, 50, jumped at the chance to buy the shop, even moving into the adjoining house.

For Magnuson, becoming a bait shop owner was a way to turn a hobby into a career.

He had worked as a manager in a home center in northern Illinois when his wife gave birth to the twins. With a 1-year-old daughter, Tess, already at home, Magnuson decided he needed to spend more time with his family.

Around the same time, he developed a slingshot-styled water balloon launcher called "Blaster." The idea came to him as he lobbed balloons off balconies at a wedding party in Fort Wayne, Ind.

He quit his job of 15 years and traveled the country in a motor home for a year selling the launcher at fairs and flea markets.

To the Magnusons' surprise, the product, which they later patented, took off. The family continues to sell to distributors, primarily in the Midwest, as part of a wholesale mail order business.

The Magnusons moved to Florida in 1987 and built a house in Spring Hill.

Magnuson and his sons fished the backcountry from canoes for years, learning everything they could about redfish. In time, they bought a small boat and expanded into other types of fishing.

After graduating from Springstead High School in 2003, the brothers joined their father as licensed Coast Guard captains.

"They've had that interest ever since they've been kids," Magnuson said.

Eric and Sally Magnuson have been married almost 30 years, since they were were sweethearts at Hononegah High in Rockton, Ill. Sally enjoys running the bait shop but makes different use of her free time. While her husband heads west to fish, Sally travels in the opposite direction to go horseback riding.

The Magnusons added charters to the bait shop about six months ago.

They operate a Gheenee for backwater fishing; the Carolina Skiff for flats fishing; a bay boat, which has been taken as far as 50 miles offshore; and a 24-foot Angler, which can accommodate larger parties for offshore fishing.

Redfish and trout are plentiful in local waters, and the tarpon fishing is some of the best in the world, Magnuson said. Snook is out of season but makes for good catch-and-release sport. The offshore mangrove and grouper bites also are very good.

"The beauty of our area is that it is so untouched," Magnuson said."I think the state has done a marvelous job of preserving our coastline, and I think that the fishing around this area is as good as it possibly can get."

Magnuson's customers range from shorefishermen to canoeists to backwater anglers and ply their trade in everything from old johnboats to 36-footers. Most know what they want and appreciate the timeliness with which they can pick up their bait and get started. Magnuson takes his time with the other 20 percent, who are novices.

"It really is a great experience to get them started and get them interested in the sport, young and old alike," Magnuson said.

While their father helps prepare customers to fish, the twins get them on the water. From the boat ramp at Rogers Park, it is about a 30-minute ride at idling speed to the Gulf.

With only a reporter on board Monday, Luke Magnuson stood at the front of the skiff watching for impediments while Mark steered past riverfront homes with boats tied to docks and faded blue slides that dropped into the clear water of the Weeki Wachee River.

Herons and egrets watched from the tops of signposts. Two manatees spun slowly through the shallow water. Mullets jumped in the air.

The skiff picked up speed as it headed out to the Gulf in search of baitfish. At 9 a.m., the sun already was high in the cloudless sky. The whoosh of wind whipping by and the "thunk" of the boat crashing over the waves covered the low hum of the 60 hp engine.

With only distant islands to guide him, Mark Magnuson found a spot about 12 miles out along the flats where he and his brother used jigs or cut bait to catch ladyfish.

Shortly after the skiff stopped, Mark Magnuson reeled in a small grouper. "There's one you can eat," he said before releasing it. "Not what we're looking for, though."

Over the next 10 minutes, the brothers caught a 21-inch trout, a baby cobia and a sailcat, but no ladyfish.

"Who thought bait catching was this hard?" Luke Magnuson wondered aloud.

Waiting for a bite, the twins chatted and studied the water. They wore the same crewcuts and short-sleeved fishing shirts. Mark's shirt was tan, Luke's blue. Their parents say they sometimes have trouble telling them apart, relying on mannerisms or speaking patterns.

Shortly after 9, Luke Magnuson reeled in the first of three ladyfish the brothers would catch. As Luke reeled in the second, an 8-foot bull shark circled.

"Now's not the time to fall over(board)," Mark said.

With bait in the cooler, the brothers left the flats in search of shallow water to hunt for redfish.

Mark Magnuson navigated around patches of sawgrass and mangroves as Luke watched for rocks that could ground the skiff. At 10:15, Luke dropped anchor in an open spot surrounded by mangroves. A red-winged blackbird and mullet splash were the only sounds.

The brothers cut the ladyfish into steaks, keeping the best pieces for bait and throwing the head and tail into the water. Sliding the bait onto hooks, they cast as close to the shore as possible, where redfish often hunt for crabs or small mullet.

"Now, we just wait," Luke said.

He got a bite 10 minutes later, but the fish broke free and stole away with the bait. Shortly afterward, he caught a 2-foot bull shark that put up a surprisingly strong fight. Five minutes later, he hauled in another - an ankle-biter, he said.

Around 11, Luke caught something even less desirable, a toadfish. "We call them mother-in-laws,' he said. "Not a very pretty-looking fish."

To Luke, few things are prettier than the 4-foot snook he caught while fishing for bait during the winter. To Mark, nothing matches the 150-pound tarpon he caught in a neighboring channel earlier in the summer.

"You never know what you're going to catch," he said. "There's always something that can surprise you."

A small bull shark proved his point moments later.

Despite the three lines in the water, the shark swam close to the boat to grab the discarded head of the ladyfish, then returned for the tail five minutes later.

It was the only action for a while, aside from the two large bumblebees that chased each other around the skiff, occasionally buzzing the brothers' heads.

Growing anxious, Mark Magnuson moved up to the platform of the skiff. A splash drew his attention, and he watched as his rod slid from its perch.

"Shark," he said, laughing.

But a closer look revealed something else was tugging at his line. A 2-foot fish with a copper bronze body.

A redfish.

Mark let the fish run until it had the bait in its mouth. He lifted the rod, tightened the line and set the hook. He was careful to set the drag so the fish had to work against the reel.

Bringing it in would mean wearing it out first.

The fish ran for the rocks in the hopes of freeing itself. But Mark was quicker, expertly bringing it up alongside the boat. He grabbed hold of the line, separated the fish from the hook and held it high.

"Not a huge one," he said, looking it over. "Lot of heart."

Shortly after Mark released the fish, the brothers noticed the tops of rocks beginning to break the surface of the water.

With the tide going out, it was time to return to the shop.

"Unless you want to stay out here all day," Mark said.

Frank Pastor can be reached at 800 333-7505, ext. 1430. Send e-mail to pastor@sptimes.com

A Day In The Life, a Sunday summer series in which Times sports writers chronicle a typical sporting day of someone, some place or something on the North Suncoast.