This one is prolly my favorite because of the story, so I figured I'd share both.
This one is from 7/14/2007 - second weekend of scallop season when a storm blew in extremely fast around 10-11am shooting lightning everywhere and triggering a mass-exodus from the flats. This is the day that the power transformer just beyond the bathrooms at the fort ramp got struck by lightning and exploded in a huge ball of fire and black smoke with about 30 or so boats running around in circles trying to get out. News reported that there were something like 1500 lightning strikes recorded in the area that morning.
I was out scalloping with mojokoko and we had planned to do some fishing after grabbing a bag full of scallops. Well we had about 2 dozen scallops and 30 minutes in the water when the storms erupted, and weren't yet ready to throw in the towel, so we headed to Jerry's and checked out the radar and satellite on the internet (after waiting 2 hours to get the boat out). Storms were breaking up on radar so we headed out to the lighthouse ramp and put the boat back in. 20-30 minutes fishing in heavy chop and another wave of lightning-intensive storms blew in. Again we pulled the boat out.
By the time we got out to 98 in the truck, the sun was out agian, and again the satellite was relatively clear, so we decided to pop back by the fort. It got dark again and started raining agian just as we got to the ramp. Still not ready to admit defeat, we went to Riverside Cafe and drank a couple beers and ate some wings and watched the lightning. So finally about 5:00pm we hadn't heard any thunder or seen lightning in quite some time, the wind was calm, and we go back over to the fort and drop the boat in a 3rd time. By the time we got from the ramp to the Wakulla river intersection, it got dark again, and we heard distant thunder, decided to just fish right around there for a bit and see what happened.
15 minutes into fishing around the grass lines, it started raining on us...and pretty much only on us...literally...there was small circle of rain hitting the water about 20 foot radius. The water was glassy and you could tell there was no rain hitting anywhere else. Finally, I said to mojokoko, "I don't think God wants us to fish today." and in utter frustration yelled up at the sky "Fine! We will go home if that's what you want!" Not 60 seconds later the sun came out over just the area we were in, the rain stopped and I took this picture. Over the next couple hours, the topwater action was non-stop until it was so dark we could no longer see the lures and called it a day. Ended up with I don't know how many trout and reds. We thought God wanted us to go home, but turns out He was just leading us to the fish!
