Fly Fishing the Everglades, Day 1: The Snook Files

Apr14

I love living and fishing in Connecticut. But if I had to choose one other part of the country in which to live and fly fish, it wouldn’t be an easy decision. Western PA and NE Ohio (steelhead and smallmouth) would get some consideration. Colorado would be a worthy choice, as would Montana — all that blue ribbon trout water! Then, there’s the Everglades. So vast, so mysterious, so alien, so loaded with fish and fly fishable water that you couldn’t possibly cover it in a lifetime. I really don’t know where I’d choose, but the Everglades might currently be at the top of the leaderboard.

I’ve now fished the Everglades three times, the last in November of 2021. I was ready last year, but too busy with the book. I wanted to go in the March through May window, prime time for tarpon, because I’d never hooked one, and you’ve got to hook one to land one. Color me eager on tarpon. Then, there are snook.

While tarpon are one of my bucket list fish, I’ve caught snook before. I’m a big fan. They’re ambush predators that lurk in the submerged mangrove roots, and their attack speed is breathtaking; they go from zero to meteor-reentering-the-atmosphere-fast when they see a meal. They fight like the dickens, even the smaller ones. Think of a sleeker, faster, more agile striped bass, and you’ve got the general dope on battling a snook.

Snook country. While the Everglades can look like one expansive lake, you’re looking for structure along the shoreline, whether near open water or in one of the hundreds of labyrinthine passages that lead to a lagoon, and sometimes to nowhere. Downed tree in the water? Make a cast. Dining room table-sized cove in the mangroves? Make a cast. If a snook is nearby, and you don’t spook it — they’re in a constant state of red alert — it’s going to move with a sense of urgency to your fly.

Once again, I was fishing with Capt. Mark Giacobba. Tarpon were first on the agenda, and we spent the better part of an hour getting to the mark. Right on cue, we found rolling fish. (Tarpon will come up to the surface to gulp air, and these “rolls” give away their position.) To make a long story short, I had two follows and one take upon which I completely blew the hookset. A little later, we found some 40+ pound fish in a shallow lagoon, but they were immediately on to us, and skedaddled for points elsewhere, leaving opaque clouds of silt in their wake. With the sun continuing to climb (we’d launched at 6:30am), the target turned to snook. Hell, yeah. Let’s go.

This would be a good time to say that the fishing has been a little off in the Everglades this spring. The nights and mornings (and, consequently, the water) have been cooler than normal. The snook bite was funky; it was either action on the first few casts or nothing. We bounced around from mark to mark, staying when there were fish, bailing when there weren’t. I held off taking any pictures since I was hopeful to lock into a bigger one, but ’twas not to be. You can see one of the smaller fish I landed on Instagram @stevecultonflyfishing.

Pounding the structure. It took me a while to get up to speed, as this kind of fishing is truly different from what I normally do back home. We took a few subsurface, then switched over to topwater, which produced some explosive takes. You cast, give the bug two short pops (“Knock-knock” as Mark described it), then let the fly sit there, and wait. Maybe a couple more knocks, then it’s recast and send it to an adjacent area. You don’t strip in the fly, and it never gets even halfway to the boat before you recast. On this day, the snook weren’t shy about making their presence known. **If they weren’t there, we motored.**

Th final tally was six snook and one sea trout. Not great. Not terrible. Definitely fun. Up next: Day 2. It’s a story of disappointment and redemption (of sorts). You’ll see.

The Everglades, Part 4: Bill and Dad Ride Again!

Nov29

Before this trip, I’d had only one Everglades fishing experience. That was four years ago, and it was a single day excursion with my oldest son, Bill, who was graduating from law school. Our target on that May day was snook and tarpon, but I never even got a taste of a tug. Sure, the jacks and ladyfish and sea trout were fun, but I was disappointed. The highlight of the day was a fine snook Bill grabbed out of a shallow tidal flat.

And so it came to pass that Bill and I were heading out again. I’d already gotten my snook, and then some, and had an all-too-brief encounter with a tarpon, so in a sense this was a gravy day for me. Bill was getting married in three days, and at the very least we’d soak up some sunshine and enjoy some cigars.

Wednesday turned out to be the warmest of the three days, but there was still an early morning chill that was amplified by the boat slicing through the pre-dawn canals. I wore fleece pants all three days — I’m generally always inclined to be cold — but later on this day I almost broke the shorts seal. I knew what was coming in a couple weeks, and I kept reminding myself that regardless of the action, this *wasn’t* steelheading — and I should enjoy the blessing of actually being able to feel my toes and fingers.

A left-handed fly caster on the bow and a right-handed spin guy on the stern makes it easy to do double duty. However, as we drifted past this island, I wanted to get some footage of my Marine doing battle. Bill found a pod of sea trout and had at them. These are beautiful fish, and they can be highly aggressive with their follows and takes. We liked this spot so much that we asked Mark to do another pass around. we never saw another boat until the very end of the day.

We made a run to where the Everglades dumps into the Gulf, and I loved this mark: current, loads of structure, and all kinds of birds and mammals and reptiles to eyeball. We actually fished hundreds of yards of shoreline. By now, I felt like my presentations and hook sets had come light years from my first trip. As we drifted past a downed tree within a pocket channel, I thought I saw a shadow. One cast, a couple strips, snook on! A decent fish for sure, but sight casting him in lightly stained water made me feel on top of my game. Bill and I each took multiple smaller snook at this mark. Of course, just when you think you’re all that, a baby tarpon in a cove near a creek mouth will remind you that you aren’t. And so, having touched two tarpon on the trip, I am resolved to get one on my next. Like Boss Rojack said in *My Favorite Year*, “The fighting is rounds…this is round one”

The Peter Ross Wet Fly

Mar2

The next time you fish the Peter Ross, be grateful that his name was not Aloysius Karbuncle. The Peter Ross is a traditional Loch style fly that dates back to the late 19th century. Ross based his pattern on the Teal and Red, another stillwater fly.

This fly is also a popular sea trout pattern, and you can easily see why. I like the contrast of the red, the black, and the dramatic barring of the teal. With its silver body, I’m thinking small baitfish or fry. Perhaps even something shrimpy. Something that looks alive and good to eat. I’ve already used it for steelhead, and I’m going to try it as the point fly on a team of three wets this spring.

The Peter Ross

Hook: 8-16  (this is an Orvis 1641 size 10)

Thread: Black

Tail: Golden pheasant tippets

Body: Rear half silver wire, front half red angora goat

Rib: Fine silver tinsel

Hackle: Black hen

Wing: Teal flank

Tying notes: When you’re tying a small wet that calls for a body of “half this, half that,” it’s easy to mess up calculating how much area you need on the shank for each section. (Ask me how I know). You end up with a body that’s two-thirds one and one-third the other. Remember to take the head of the fly into consideration. Then, divide the remaining space between where you think the head will end and the end of the shank. There are many ways to tie in waterfowl wings. Some like to create an effect like a quill wing. Others like to fold the wing several times on top of itself, dull side in. Another way, the one I used here, is to tie the wing in small folded sections. For this size fly, I used three sections of teal flank about ¼ to 3/8 inch wide, folded them once, dull side in, and tied them on top of each other.