My pal Steve has a place on the Isle of Capri. It's south of Naples, Florida, and just north of Marco Island. Someone down there told Steve that when the tarpon migrate, they stop in the Marco River. Steve left word with people there to call him when the tarpon arrive. He got the call last week.
He called me and asked if I wanted to go, I said sure, when do we leave. His plan was to leave here Thursday and drive straight through. (20 hours)
Unfortunately, on Thursday, Steve was suffering the effects of a cold. He called me and said we couldn't go. I told him I could drive, and he could recover on the front seat of the car the same as on his couch, so we departed Friday, about noon. We arrived in Isle of Capri around 8 am, and Steve was feeling well enough to fish.
Steve had spoken with a guide who told him the only way to catch tarpon was using live crabs for bait. We called several bait shops, and found only one that had crabs. They were $5 for the large ones, and $3 for the small. But they didn't have any large. We bought 6 small crabs ($18) and went to the river.
Steve also has a flats boat. The idea is to cruise the river until you see a school of tarpon on your fish finder, then stop and anchor, and send out the crabs. Steve's fish finder didn't work. Neither did his trolling motor. And his anchor was too small to hold the boat in position when the tide was running. But we struggled with the anchor until it caught, and began fishing.
Not much was happening, but Steve was sure he was seeing some tarpon rolling. Everything he saw in the water was a "tarpon." We saw dolphins, cormorants, seagulls, floating limbs, coconuts, etc. Once, he saw the shadow of a pelican flying overhead, and he wanted to start the motor to chase after the "tarpon."
We took the boat back to the marina at the end of the day, and talked with the dock hands about how to catch tarpon. "Never heard of them eating crabs. What you need is to get some catfish heads, and fish them on the bottom in about 30 feet of water."
The next day, using shrimp for bait, we caught a bunch of catfish, cut off their heads, and put them on a hook. And then we waited. The longer we waited, the more sure I was that we had been fed the typical tourist line of B.S. Not only were we not catching the tarpon, but we were also reducing the catfish population in the Marco River. I could picture those dock hands laughing as they tell all their friends about the 2 guys out on the river using catfish heads for bait. That afternoon, Steve thought there might be tarpon out past the mouth of the river in the gulf. The wind had been blowing 15 to 20 out of the west all the time we'd been there, so the waves were crashing in where the river empties into the gulf. That didn't stop Steve. You might remember that just last week at home , Steve hit a tree, and knocked me off his pontoon boat--ruining my cell phone. This time, he turned the flats boat broadside to the waves, and a big wave came over the side of the boat where I was setting, and swamped the boat. Again, I was drenched. I may be a slow learner, but at least this time, my new phone was in a waterproof container. We managed to get back inside the pass without sinking the boat, and went back to fishing with catfish heads.
By the third day,we had become doubtful that we would see a tarpon. We also doubted that catfish heads were much more than a prank played on unsuspecting tourists. I had rigged my heaviest rod and reel with new 50 pound braided line with a 50 pound leader. Steve has a reputation of using questionable tackle. He buys fishing gear at garage sales and auctions. For this outing, Steve was using a very stout rod with a huge spinning reel mounted on it. And, of course, a catfish head for bait. At about 3 in the afternoon, we had given up all hope. And then it happened.
Steve's pole bent over, and the big reel started zinging. Something was taking line off that reel in a hurry. Steve was sitting on a seat, half asleep, and the pole was behind him. He jumped up, grabbed the pole, and started to reel up the slack. When he felt the fish, he yanked the pole hard to set the hook, and immediately the pole broke in half. We looked up just as a beautiful tarpon jumped clear out of the water. It was between 5 and 6 feet long, and probably weighed around a hundert pounds. Steve stood there with his broken rod staring at the water where the tarpon had splashed back in. I asked Steve if the fish was still on the line of the broken rod, and another scramble began. He frantically reeled the line in, but the tarpon was long gone. We grinned at each other and slapped a high five. We were so happy to see a tarpon. The fact that we broke a rod, the line parted, and we lost the fish didn't seem important.
So now we're back in Indiana. On this trip, we drove forty hours. We fished three days. And we had 20 seconds of excitement. Priceless! What a great trip !
