When stalking the elusive and tasty pompano, reacting to changes in the conditions - like the intrusion of Red Tide - can make all the difference.
By DAVID A. BROWN
Published October 14, 2006
Geoff Page was seeing red, literally and figuratively.
The Venice guide had invited me to fish for pompano the first Tuesday of the month, but schedule conflicts prevented it. He had located a big school of pompano in northeast Sarasota Bay and the fish were chewing.
As fate would have it, the wide-open window of opportunity would slam shut under the heavy hand of Karenia brevis, the strain of Red Tide common to the Gulf of Mexico.
On that Tuesday morning, as I toiled at my desk, Page called me around 10 a.m. and held the phone to his screaming reel as a 5-pound pompano ripped line through the water. The man has a mean streak.
Now, pompano inside Sarasota Bay is nothing extraordinary, but these fish are more common to the passes and beaches. Apparently, Red Tide west of Longboat Key had pushed the fish east of the barrier island and huddled them into a tight school.
Page reported a 30-fish day between himself and another angler. And, get this, it was mostly sightcasting. Just like redfish, the pompano were ganged up so thick they were pushing water and all the anglers had to do was cast toward the liquid hump.
"When they're schooled up like that, if you can get a couple you can get a bunch of them," Page said.
Such was not the case when I joined Page a day later. Sometime between Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning, patches of Red Tide had appeared in the north end of Sarasota Bay.
Before we launched from Centennial Park, a local angler told Page he'd seen a bunch of dead mullet in a little pocket north of the ramp. By noon, a couple hundred mullet were floating into the bay.
The scattered bloom appeared to be spreading and once the killer algae reached inside the bay, the pompano started dashing erratically throughout the area in search of clear brine.
Favorable conditions remained out of reach until the midday tide change washed enough clean water onto the bay's east side to form random oases in which pompano and other game fish found solace.
Page located one of these spots close to the area that had produced his stellar catch a day earlier. Lush seagrass dropped into a sandy furrow and the fish seemed to like the transition zone.
After a couple of casts, Page came tight on what felt like our target species.
"That's a nugget!" he exclaimed.
Commercial fishermen often call these spunky little fish "gold nuggets" for the hefty price their tasty filets fetch on the seafood market. Complementing their financial value with strength, stamina and lots of attitude, the pompano provides a gilded catch for any angler.
Page had indeed stuck his jig in the jaw of a feisty pompano. Three more plump "pomps," and two keeper trout would come aboard in the next hour- fewer than the day before, but more than we thought we'd find a couple of hours earlier.
The lesson here is twofold. First, fish have tails for a reason, and when conditions shift dramatically, what you saw yesterday may mean little today. On the flip side, diligence and determination often reveal rays of promise amid the clouds of adversity.
Pompano are skittish and don't tolerate unwanted company. When chasing them over the pothole-strewn grass beds of Tampa and Sarasota bays, ¼- to ½-ounce bucktail jigs do a good job of imitating scampering crustaceans, while enabling the long cast needed to reach pompano.
Fish pompano jigs on 7-foot, medium-action spinning outfits loaded with 10-pound braided line. Braids also promote long casts, while providing extreme sensitivity for instant strike detection and quick hook sets.
The key, Page said, is to bounce the jig in short, low hops, right where the pompano's downward-sloping head faces. "If you're not on the bottom, you won't get them."
Along with pompano, you'll pick up a bunch of pinfish and lizardfish. But neither thumps as hard or pulls as vigorously as the yellow-bellied brutes.
There's plenty of soft tissue in a pompano's jaw to stick the hook, but they have relatively small mouths and they'll quickly leverage any mistake an angler makes to escape.
Page shouts, "Stay connected," on every hook-up. By that, he means keep a bend in the rod, maintain constant pressure and gather line whenever the pompano tires.
And don't fall for any tricky business. Page's third pompano smacked his jig and ran straight at the boat. Such moves can fool even an experienced guide, and as Page was reeling up for another cast, his line suddenly came tight on the sneaky pompano.
Keep your head in the game, get a net under your fish as soon as possible and your effort will deliver one of the sea's tastiest denizens.
