Finally after almost two years!! Instead of salting sidewalks in Colorado, I’m salting margaritas on my sun deck, fishing my fanny off in my yak instead of freezing my derrière, wrestling snook instead of shoveling snow!! And the fish are very cooperative. Life’s good! More details and new fishing trips to come soon.
Greetings to all my friends and readers. I hope your holidays have been peaceful, and here’s wishing you the best for a great 2020. It’s been a very interesting and rewarding year writing my blog. In addition to providing an admitted excuse to go fishing and explore remote places and share them with my friends, my main goal continues to be helping reinforce and building the constituency to preserve and protect these wild and wonderful places fish inhabit. Given the current state of politics in the country and multiple threats to our environment and natural resources, it’s more important than ever to take a stand and do whatever we can to protect Mother Nature and her finny denizens.
I was especially gratified to have some of my piscatorial peregrinations published by Florida Sportsman magazine in an article about kayak fishing in the Everglades. You can find a link to it in my October post.
It was also great to see that by late December, the Hooknfly blog has had over 53,000 views and over 23,000 visitors, a 40%+ increase over 2018An added and very satisfying benefit has been connecting with people and making new friends around the USA and the world.
Among them are readers from over 60 nations. Now it’s easy to figure out why people who follow my blog are mainly from English-speaking countries, but who am I to ask why anyone from Belarus, Ukraine, or Russia would read my articles. Hmmm, but on second thought perhaps there is indeed a common thread here—could it be I’m on Putin’s watch list after posting a not-so-flattering wise crack and photo of him in a 2018 article on upper Saguache Creek:
“By now it’s nearly 2 p.m., and the sun is beating down and things are heating up. I decide to shed some clothing and strip off my long-sleeve fishing shirt and polypro T under it, reveling in my bare-chestedness in the mountain air with no prying eyes. Visions of Vladimir Putin, similarly bare-chested and buff, riding over the ridge float through my mind. No wonder Agent Orange couldn’t resist him at Helsinki! What a hunk!!”
But seriously, as the year comes to a close it gives me great pleasure to look back on the best, the bummers, and the blood-curdling moments of 2019 from an angling perspective. It’s been a treat to have you with me! Here we go…
Like many anglers, I cut my teeth chasing bluegills and sunfish in farm ponds, first with worms under a pencil bobber, then graduating to cork popping bugs trailing behind a spinning bubble, and eventually to a fly rod. It’s fun to revisit those carefree kid fishing days when I caught fish-after-fish in the warm Kansas summer sun courtesy of a newcomer to Florida that’s a bit of a bluegill look-alike—the Mayan Cichlid (p. sicklid), also called Atomic Sunfish because of their explosive colors. When the snook are snoozing, the redfish retiring, and tarpon torpid, these hard-fighting invaders from south of the border provide endless entertainment.
Indeed, my fishing buddy Bob Wayne and I are so enamored with them that we call them Mayan Chicklettes, which sounds ever so much more inviting and appropriate than the unappealing name some scientist visited upon them.
What’s not to like about these invaders? They may not be all that big, rarely growing larger than nine or ten inches, but in addition to their flamboyant colors, they are eager to eat anything that moves and feisty with pulsating runs courtesy of a big fantail caudal fin.
It’s so nice to have an immigrant from Central America that even Trump could love…if he fished. Chicklettes are indeed invasive, found throughout the Everglades in fresh and brackish water. They were first discovered in the area in 1983, probably released from home aquariums by owners when they got too big or perhaps escaped from aquaculture impoundments. Now they are everywhere in canals lining highways throughout the region like the Tamiami Trail (US 41) and in backcountry brackish water lakes and ponds and waterways like Halfway Creek and the Turner River. The real treat and test is in the backwater lakes where sight fishing for Chicklettes along shorelines in shallow water is a real possibility.
Anglers can’t resist showing off a big fish, where size really does matter. Ever wonder about the back story behind the smiling pix, the agony as well as the ecstasy? Here goes….and this is a true story!!
My erstwhile fishing buddy Bob Wayne and I love to probe hidden backcountry tidal creeks in the Everglades where big snook lurk in narrow channels lined with downed trees and mangroves.
The mangroves are an essential element of the ecosystem here, providing shelter for myriad small fish, crabs, and other life. But their thick, dangling air roots will tangle a fishing line in a flash if a hooked fish dives under them, not to mention they are covered with razor-sharp barnacles that will slice and dice anything that rubs against them.
In these tight quarters only a small, narrow boat like my Gheenoe can squirm through, and our hard-earned experience has taught us it is a real team effort to hook and land big fish successfully.
One Angler with a 6-to-7 foot medium/light spinning rod and 2500 Series reel is positioned upfront on the small bow deck with the Wingman in the back of the boat where he is outfitted with the remote controls for a small quiet electric trolling motor and the shallow water power anchor that with a push of a button unfurls and pins the boat firmly in place. The Wingman doesn’t fish.
Our efficacious technique to land big fish in these mazes has been honed through trial and error, with the emphasis on the latter. By the numbers, here is how it is supposed to work:
This is a perfect outing for novice kayakers and families with kids. It’s my go-to spot when friends with teenagers come to visit me at my winter retreat. The trip to the islands at the mouth of the Turner River just off Chokoloskee Island is just a short one-half mile paddle, and you’ll be surrounded by hundreds of years of fascinating history, have a chance to see lots of birds and maybe a manatee or gator, and catch a bunch of sea trout, ladyfish, and jacks to boot with shots at some good-sized snook. What’s not to like??
Most Everglades kayakers float the upper Turner River by launching some eight miles upstream at a popular put-in on the Tamiami Trail highway. It’s a scenic route through a variety of fascinating ecosystems, ranging from freshwater cypress forests to sawgrass prairies to saltwater mangrove tunnels. It’s one of the most popular kayak trips in the Everglades—but the fishing is spotty at best till you get to the mouth and you will share the river with flotillas of fellow kayakers, often in large commercial ecotour groups. In contrast, if you put in at the mouth of the Turner, you’ll likely have the place to yourself, you won’t be paddling all day, and the fishing can be epic with non-stop action even for beginners.
The lower river is steeped in history. The Calusa Indians, who were the dominant tribe in Southwest Florida for thousands of years into the 16th and 17th centuries, built a village about one-half mile up the river from the mouth. It covered 30 acres and had at least 30 closely spaced, elevated shell mounds that kept it above storm levels (hmmm, could we learn something from that??). The Calusa developed a complex culture with hereditary kings that was based on estuarine fisheries rather than agriculture like many other eastern tribes. Historians speculate that by the 1600’s they numbered 10,000 and possibly many more across Southwest Florida. The Everglades were the southern reaches of their territory.
With the arrival of the Spaniards, the Calusa’s hegemony in the region was challenged. They fought many battles against the invaders, mortally wounding Ponce De Leon in one. The tribe, with its fierce warriors, held its own into the 1700s and struck an uneasy peace with the Spaniards. But then a combination of the English (who were at war with the Spanish) supplying firearms to the enemies of the Calusas, the Creek and Yemasee tribes, coupled with infectious diseases introduced by the Europeans finally sealed the Calusa’s fate. In 1711 the Spanish helped evacuate several hundred Calusa to Cuba where most soon died. Seventeen hundred were left behind and when Spain ceded Florida to the British in 1763, surviving remnants were evacuated to Cuba or may have been absorbed into the Seminole tribe.
The next wave of invaders was U.S. soldiers during the Third Seminole war in 1857. An army contingent of about 100 troops commanded by Captain Richard Turner led a party up the river off Chokoloskee Island where they were camped. They were ambushed and driven off. After the Seminole were subdued, Turner returned in 1874 and settled near the mouth of the river, giving it his name. He farmed, raising vegetables that were shipped to Key West.
The combination of this history, an easy paddle, and some good fishing make the Lower Turner River a great half-day outing.
The put-in for this trip is a break in the mangroves on the east side of the causeway between Everglades City and Chokoloskee Island. It’s only about a quarter mile before you get to the welcome sign to Chokoloskee and its marina with a paved boat ramp. The informal launch area has a nice beach that makes things easy and provides a sandy play area for the kiddies. You can park along the causeway to unload your gear and leave your vehicle near the put-in. Just make sure not to block the paved pathway.
The excursion to the cluster of mangrove-covered oyster bar islands at the mouth of the Turner is only about a half mile paddle. It’s best to plan your trip on a high tide just beginning to fall. The crossing is very shallow at low tide.
There is no official tide reading for the lower Turner, but I find tides there usually lag behind those for Chokoloskee by about 1 ½ hours. Of equal importance, I find the angling best on a high falling tide as the fish line up to feed in the holes between and below islands as the current serves up goodies. As you explore among the islands, be aware of the sharp, plastic-eating oyster beds that line each one as well as the channels between the islands.
An interesting side trip for the more adventurous is to paddle one-half mile upstream to view the Calusa Indian shell mounds that have been listed in the U.S. National Register of Historic Places. The Calusa occupied this area between 200 BC and 900 AD, elevating their villages above the water on small oyster shells placed on submerged mud flats (Hmmm, wonder if we could learn from that??) The shell mounds are overgrown, making for some challenging but fun exploration. Remember to look but not disturb.
One final note of caution. The mouth of the Turner along the islands is a designated slow-motor area to protect the endangered manatees that feed here. However, some fishing guides and anglers in motorboats ignore the prominent signage and blast through the area at high speeds on their way to the Everglades backcountry with little regard to manatees or kayakers that may be present. The peak of this renegade activity is usually early in the morning and late afternoon.
Both light/medium spin gear and fly-fishing tackle work well on the Turner. I typically bring three 6 1/2 or 7-foot spin rods and 2500 series spin reels loaded with 30# test line and 30# flourocarbon leaders. My go-to lures include white ¼ ounce floater/diver minnow plugs (Rapala or Yozuri 3D Crystal Minnows), white curlytail grubs on a 1/8 ounce red jig head, and gold spoons. When the water is on the turbid side from a southwest wind, a new penny stickbait on a yellow jig head will fool the snook, and if black drum are cruising the shallows live crab or shrimp can be the ticket.
When the current is blasting out between the islands, a small mushroom anchor is a big help to keep your boat in position to cast to the deeper, productive holes. The shorelines around the islands are wadeable, but make sure you have some good hard-soled wading shoes, because sharp oyster shells abound.
Trip Notes (Spring)
I am up with my young fishing buddy at the crack of dawn and putting in as the sun rises. It’s late spring, and we want to get an early start to catch the high tide and beat the heat. I generally find that the fishing is best early, but the Turner will produce later in the day as well if you can’t get the kids out of bed.
We have plenty of water as we angle across the bay to the mouth of the river. The tide is just beginning to fall, so we anchor up just outside the first set of islands guarding the mouth just inside the tall, prominent slow-motor sign. We are casting white curlytails, and it doesn’t take long before we’re both into some nice trout and high-stepping ladyfish. It’s not unusual to catch some 16” plus trout here. The ticket is usually to cast into the current and let the lure sink back into the deep hole then make a slow, jigging retrieve. Don’t be surprised if you also hook a jack or gaff topsail catfish, which are plenty of fun to catch.
When the fishing slows, we start to work the shorelines, casting small white floater/diver minnows into the shallows. We’re rewarded with a some jolting strikes by a couple of decent 20” snook, that put on a good show before coming in for a quick release. Earlier in the spring, big black drum cruise the shallows around all the islands, but can be finicky. I have never been able to coax one to hit an artificial lure, even when a lay a perfect cast right in front of their noses. I’ve had them literally swim right under my yak in three feet of water with nary a glance. If you’re serious about catching one of the big boys, think live crabs. You are also likely to see some big gentle manatee feeding in the deeper water during the winter.
Then it’s off into the interior as the scofflaw motor boats start to blast through, studiously ignoring the slow-motor sign. The key is to look for deeper holes among the islands where trout like to hang out and also focus on spots just below riffles between the islands where the current has gouged out some depth. Jacks and ladyfish often abound there.
Keep your eyes peeled for one of my favorite Island Girls as you paddle around. She’s a feisty raccoon that plies the islands with her little ones teaching them how to crack open oyster shells for a tasty treat. She’ll show them how, then insist they do it themselves even as they screech for momma to come back and do it for them!
Be sure to keep your eyes peeled for the good-sized gator that likes to sun himself in the winter on the mud flats to the north. That north shoreline is also one of the best stretches to cast for reds at the mouth. Look for dropoffs from the bank.
After getting our fair share of jacks and ladyfish on spoons and the curlytail, my young companion and I decide to work the interior shorelines for snook. Old Linesides likes to lay just a few feet offshore of the oyster beds, picking off unwary baitfish. A good strategy is to work up a shoreline, casting a floater/diver minnow ahead 5-10 feet from the shoreline. Sinking lures don’t work as well as they tend to snag on the oysters. It doesn’t take long before my young charge lets out a whoop. He’s onto a big snook that thrashes the surface then takes off for freedom. But my buddy is no novice and shows off his fishing skills, playing the fish perfectly. He displays his prize with a confident grin.
By now the sun is getting high and hot, so we head back to the beach and lunch. As we wade ashore, we notice hundreds of little crabs scurrying about, so decide it’s time for a roundup. It’s a riot chasing the little devils who prove too quick for us. It’s another reason the Turner River is one of my favorite spots!