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Waiting on 'Big Moe'

The group leaves Crystal River determined to catch a gag heavier than 10 pounds. For the longest time, it appears the three anglers' efforts will go for naught, until ...

By DAVID A. BROWN
Published November 18, 2006

Capt. Dan Clymer needed a lot of patience Tuesday, when several of his prime grouper rocks proved reluctant in yielding their bounty.

When the bite is on, Clymer's diving lures barely reach a rock's perimeter before hungry gag grouper charge forth to knock the paint off the plugs. When the fish don't cooperate, trolling can be a lot like watching ketchup drip from a bottle.

Both possibilities happened when Clymer took me and Tampa's Bill Miller to the limestone rock piles scattered in 20-25 feet about 15 miles from the mouth of Crystal River.

Launching from Pete's Pier in Clymer's hometown of Crystal River, we headed into beautiful conditions. A chilly morning saw 1- to 2-foot seas. But the Gulf quickly mellowed, and clear skies delivered plenty of warming sunlight.

"We have a front coming tomorrow, so the fish should chew today," Clymer said as we idled away from the dock.

This was the kind of day you dream about.

This was the day to ice "Big Moe."

That's a generic fishing term applied to a whopper of most any species. On this day, only a hefty gag grouper weighing more than 10 pounds would earn that moniker.

Now there's plenty of juvenile "short" grouper - those shorter than the 22-inch minimum - willing to smack anything that runs across their rocky abode. These little guys are remarkably aggressive and loads of fun, but they just don't have the power to deliver the heart-stopping "thump" of a jumbo gag.

We wanted "Big Moe."

The setup was simple. Clymer lined up his 22-foot bay boat to cross the targeted rock pile. Armed with stout 7-foot rods and conventional reels loaded with braided line, Miller and I flanked the console and deployed big-lipped diving plugs about 100 feet behind the boat.

Clymer keeps a variety of color patterns for different conditions. Lures with dark backs or brown stripes imitate mullet and lizardfish - both an easy sell with grouper.

But in lower visibility, colorful patterns such as Clown (orange, red and yellow), Greenback and Dorado (yellow/green sides, white belly, blue back) work best. Red and white is always a good bet.

On our first spot, a handful of passes yielded only lizardfish, and Clymer didn't feel like wasting time trying to force something to happen. He had other options.

"All right, let's pick 'em up and make a run," he said. "This spot isn't impressing me."

On our next spot, a couple of shorts warmed us up for my first keeper. Miller and I released a handful of shorts. Then Miller iced a couple of keepers on subsequent passes.

Another couple of spots yielded a few more keepers, including a plump 8-pounder that nailed Miller's red/white plug.

The day was shaping up nicely. The Gulf had slicked off like a lake, and we had some fine groceries in the fish box.

But still no Big Moe.

Finally, Clymer's patience expired. It was one of those moments when you can tell someone just isn't going to wait on that ketchup any longer.

And like the guy who sticks a knife inside the bottle, our captain announced his intention to head toward what he described as "one of his top two spots."

Sitting in 25 feet, the site comprised mostly flat rock structure. It was plenty solid enough to attract grouper but not something most folks would notice if they wandered over the formation.

"Okay, Capt. Dan guarantees a big fish here," Clymer said with a firm nod. "That's how much confidence I have in this spot."

He was right.

Just as our plugs entered the rocky perimeter, Miller's rod doubled over and mine followed a breath later. My fish shook off, but Miller tossed another keeper in the ice chest.

Clymer circled back to repeat the pass. This time would be for all the marbles.

Our captain looked over his shoulder and advised us the boat was crossing the rocks. Our lures would reach the structure in seconds.

I had just turned to make a comment when a force like no other I've felt nearly yanked the rod out of my hands. Line peeled off my reel. I planted the rod butt on my hip and cranked feverishly.

The fight was intense, but when Clymer hoisted 15 pounds of gag grouper into the boat, a nice day on the water instantly became a huge success.

We paid our dues. We watched the ketchup. We caught "Big Moe."

And like sinking your teeth into the perfect cheeseburger, the reward more than justified the wait.

[Last modified November 18, 2006, 08:30:47]