I headed home knowing that the rain was going to set in on Saturday, and hoping to get a run to the coast in. Got the okay from the wife, threw some rods in the boat and headed down to the coast. I didn’t pass many folks all the way down to 98, but found a few trailers at the ramp. I launched without much trouble and hit the key on the outboard not knowing how it was going to respond, since it hadn’t been fishing in a couple of months. It sparked to life, puffed a little blue smoke, then purred along just fine. The quick response I got when I pushed the throttle down was probably because I was by myself and didn’t have a lot of stuff in the boat, but the boat seemed to jump on a plane quick and be happy to be on the water again.
The air was cool blowing in my face, but there was not a breath of breeze blowing when I reached the Gulf and headed down the shoreline. The scene that greeted me is not one I will soon forget. The Gulf was a smooth and still as mirrored glass, and unless you really studied the horizon, it was impossible to tell where the water ended and the sky began. Here’s a pic or two from my cell phone, which doesn’t do it justice.
I stopped near the area I wanted to fish, realizing how still and peaceful everything was I chose to pole myself several hundred feet to the shoreline rather than idle in with the outboard. I fished and poled and fished and poled some more, noticing that the closer I got to the shoreline, the warmer the water became. After stopping to cast several times without any results, I decided to keep poling quietly until I saw signs of life – either bait, mullet or fish of some sort moving. My theory about the warming water paid off once I got well back in the sawgrass. I began to see some small schools of mullet rippling the calm water, and few baitfish moving along the grass line.
I cast across a grassy point and felt the tell tale bump-bump on the business end of my line before it began to move sideways. I set the hook and managed to work a keeper red back around to my side of the grass point. Knowing that there were probably more on the same point, I released this first fish and used my pushpole to nose my boat quietly up into the grass – still on the back side of the point.
As the tide shifted and began to run out, I stayed put and caught six more redfish, the largest being fat as a football and 26 inches long.
My grassy point became more of a black mud point and the boat became more and more stable as I landed each fish. Knowing that I didn’t have much time left to ride the outgoing tide back to the Gulf without becoming stuck for the evening, I shoved off and fished my way back out. I did not get even a nibble as I neared the cooler waters of the Gulf, so even though it seemed to be a noisy intrusion into the peaceful scene, I cranked the outboard back up and headed back to the ramp. I passed two porpoises heading back up river and arrived back at the ramp to find three folks fishing off the dock and one retrieving his boat. None of them seemed to have much luck as I chatted with them. The best advice I can give any of you who head out any time soon is pay attention to the temperature reading on your depthfinder. More than depth, tide, or any other factor, the temperature of the water will head you in the right direction.
Pic over the bow of my boat on the way back -
Friday's Sunset -
Today was proof that the beauty and peace created by the Good Lord for us to enjoy far surpasses anything man can come up with.
Good Fishin’
- Steve Stinson
ded red on bred 
red sammiches.
I think I know the answer but just to make sure...did you stay in the boat or did you get out and wade/wander about?