Nature Coast

The hunt is on

When temps fall, finding that perfect fishing spot requires a little work.

By ED WALKER, Times Correspondent
Published January 12, 2008

The recent cold snap had disastrous consequences for many inshore fish. Numerous snook, jacks and resident tarpon died, as did smaller species of all kinds. Pinfish, grunts, mojarras, sardines and squirrelfish that had been in shallow water when the mercury hit bottom perished. Needless to say, near-shore fishing has been poor since. So where is the lively fishing action under such chilly conditions? For our most recent trip, Billy Stathopoulos, Anestis Karistinos, Andrew Nikiforakis, Ralph Warner and I decided that deeper would likely be better. It was the day after the Greek Epiphany celebration in Tarpon Springs and Karistinos and Nikiforakis both were divers who had retrieved the cross in past years. Luck was definitely riding with us.

Plan A

I pulled out my black book of GPS coordinates and entered numbers for the Florida Middlegrounds in the GPS unit. It would be a 70-mile run from Pasco County but the weather forecast looked good so we made plans to depart at 5 a.m. with hopes to arrive at the famous bottom fishing area around daybreak.

The hardware: We loaded the 31-foot Yellowfin with rods for anything we might run into. There were five grouper rods rigged with 60-pound line and Penn Senator 4/0 reels, five snapper rods rigged with 40-pound test and high speed Shimano reels, five light spinning rods rigged with sabiki rigs for catching live bait, and two butterfly jigging outfits rigged with 50-pound braided line and steel lures. Today we would be a veritable floating tackle shop.

For bait we also tried to cover all the bases. We carried frozen mullet, Boston mackerel and sardines. In the livewell there were eight-dozen live pinfish and a handful of porgies and squirrelfish.

Plan B

Departing in total darkness, we navigated the channel markers at idle speed until we were in open water. The water was calm when we increased our speed but there was a cold wind coming from the east, an ominous sign of things to come.

When the sun finally rose we were 45 miles offshore and the seas were running 3-4 feet and increasing. Heading out another 25 miles seemed like a bad idea. The Middlegrounds would have to wait until another time. Glancing at the plotter screen I noticed an isolated cluster of waypoints 5 miles to the west.

It was at 100 feet in an area known more for its vast, empty sand bottom than good grouper fishing but we were here so we were going to give it a shot. My fingers were crossed since my next closest grouper spot was 20 miles away.

Amberjack Rock

The name of the lone spot I had been to before in this area was Amberjack Rock, our first stop. As the distance to the waypoint rolled over to zero on the Furuno machine, a welcome rise appeared on the screen. The first bait down was a 135-gram butterfly jig which was quickly eaten by something big. After a short struggle the fish freed itself of the hook. As the cut baits started hitting the bottom, the rods started bending.

Karistinos hooked something big but the fish won the ensuing tug-of-war and allowed the fish to make it to the rocks. Stathopoulos was next to with a hook up and wrestled a huge, out of season, red snapper to the boat which he released while extolling the unfairness of federal red snapper regulations. Karistinos pulled in nice red grouper, then Warner boated and released another red snapper. A few more grouper, small amberjack and a scamp were caught then the bite shut down. Not a bad start but it was now time to try the new numbers.

Luck strikes

After the next five or six spots yielded nothing, and as I began to quietly accept that we were chasing bad numbers, I happened to see something on the depth recorder as we were underway.

I spun the boat around and made another pass, and again a fuzzy blob appeared over the bottom. A marker buoy was deployed and the boat anchored right next to it. The butterfly jig was sent down and eaten before it hit the bottom by what turned out to be a 14-pound gag grouper.

Yes!

Within minutes everyone on the boat was hooked up. It turned into a wide-open grouper bite and all of the fish were big. I breathed a sigh of relief as I went from zero to hero in a half hour and the mood onboard lightened up substantially.

Eventually, even our new-found success slowed but there was a respectable batch of fish in the cooler. We stopped by a few more of the "new" coordinates after that and without exception none turned out to be any good.

Twenty miles to the east we stopped at two confirmed numbers in the 80-foot range and caught more decent fish but nothing like our jackpot spot.

The seas settled for our ride home and as we skimmed across the Gulf we all reveled in the feeling that only comes from a successful day's fishing with good friends.

[Last modified January 11, 2008, 21:14:03]