Bahia Honda State Park in the Lower Florida Keys is routinely on lists of the ten best beaches in the USA, and coupled with its well-appointed seaside campgrounds, crystal clear waters, and scenic historic railroad bridge, it’s not surprising it is one of the state’s most popular parks. But what about the fishing?? Can tarpon, snapper, permit, and barracuda find happiness among the sun worshippers who throng to the white sand beaches of Bahia Honda Key?? And what havoc did Hurricane Irma wreak on the island? I fished around Bahia Honda a couple of years ago and had shots at some nice permit and caught scads of voracious barracuda. I’m back on my annual May trip to the Keys and decide to spend a couple of days wade and kayak fishing here, circumnavigating Bahia Honda in my kayak as well as sampling the waters of nearby Spanish Harbor and Ohio Keys. What I discovered was both shocking and encouraging—Irma drastically reshaped the landscape and the fishing. The Good News: The fishing is as good as ever!
On my fishing trip yesterday, on the cusp of Father’s Day, I thought a lot about my Dad, Benjamin Franklin Duerksen. Now how many men do you know named after that Founding Father! I am sure he was smiling at the fun I was having catching those frisky trout. He gave me my love of the outdoors—we spent many days and nights on the banks of the Little Ar-Kansas River near my hometown in Kansas fishing with worms and frogs for channel catfish, bullhead, and anything else that would bite. Dad was also a pro at noodling—illegal handfishing for big flathead catfish. Even Mennonites have vices!!
Dad With Fishing Buddies In Front Of Our House On Maple Street in Buhler, Kansas. Big Flathead Catfish Caught Noodling In Cow Creek Near Hutch, KS.
We later graduated to minnows and lures in lakes and chasing white bass, crappie, and anything else that would bite. On those exciting overnight trips to Kanopolis Reservoir, 60 miles away, we just slept in the big old 1951 DeSoto car, Dad in the front seat and me in the back.
A Big Old DeSoto Circa 1951–Like Our Fishing Car
We also spent a lot of time bird watching, especially on Sunday. After Sunday School he would head out into the sandhills in the DeSoto with my sister Susan and me while Mom was fixing our dinner (noon meal). I still have my first Audobon bird book…a prized possession.
Dad was a simple, laid-back Mennonite farm boy. He played football in college at 5’8” and 150 pounds, married Mom the day after she graduated from high school in 1942, served on the crew of a B-17 bomber in the Army Air Corps in WWII (which was highly unusual for a Mennonite kid given Mennonites are a pacifist religion). He came back home to farm with his father after the war, then started teaching in the 1950s to supplement the farm income when a couple of wheat crops got hailed out. He taught math and social studies for over 30 years in nearby small-town grade schools, sometimes serving as principal, always coaching basketball and baseball. A couple of years he coached my Cub Scout baseball team to the regional championship. We sat in front of the radio and listened and went to a lot of Hutch Juco and Wichita State basketball games together back then. On special trips to Kansas City, we watched the old KC Athletics at Municipal Stadium—still remember seeing Mantle and Maris hit back-to-back homers in 1960, the year Maris broke Ruth’s record. I got us into trouble when I jumped onto the field after the game to run the bases. Fortunately he rescued me before the umps could corral me. Thankfully he continued to farm so I got to spend a lot of time with him every summer driving tractor, hauling wheat to the mills, plowing fields, planting wheat in the fall while listening to the World Series on my transistor radio. Not many boys get to spend so much what we now call “quality” time with their dads. Not saying at the time I fully appreciated the dawn-to-dark work regimen during plowing season!
Dad was very easy-going. I only saw him lose his temper a couple of times and the closest he came to cussing was saying “by damn!” But he was also very competitive—never ever did he let me beat him at ping-pong or checkers, although I could best him on the b-ball court in H-O-R-S-E. He still shot a two-handed set shot of his day so I called jump and hook shots which he had trouble with. Mom was the day-to-day disciplinarian in the family, but believe me I remember well each of the three spankings I got from him. The worst was when as a teenager I was disrespectful of my Mom. Yikes!! Lesson learned!!
Dad Through The Years Through His School Yearbook Photos
Dad never pushed me in sports or academics, and indeed he didn’t say a word when in my junior year in college I switched my long-time plan to be a doctor and instead went to law school. But I think I got his slight nod of approval the day after my graduation from law school, which he and Mom had driven to Chicago to attend. He was leaning back in a big easy chair in our apartment when he looked at me and asked, “So how much does a young lawyer make these days?” That was an unusual question from a Mennonite–they don’t dwell much on money. I answered, “About $16,000.” Which was about twice what he was making as a teacher after years in the classroom. His response? “Hmmm, I guess being a lawyer isn’t so bad after all.” I still can’t stop laughing when I think about that!! Thanks, Dad, for everything. Miss you.
When I was a kid, my parents moved a lot! But I always found them!!
Rodney Dangerfield
June 2018
I’ve just landed a muscular fish over 20 inches that smashed my Gulp! swimming mullet lure like a freight train, then ran hard and deep like a redfish. I’m already salivating over the thought of savoring one of the best tasting fish in Florida over dinner tonight. So why is my fishing buddy laughing, his nose turned up slightly in disdain?? Because it’s Bagrus marinus, popularly known as a gafftopsail catfish.
Okay, okay, I’ll have to deal with the gelatinous snot it’s left on my leader, and yes I’ll have to dodge those wicked, venomous spines to get my hook out, but sail cats just can’t get no respect—just like Rodney Dangerfield and the way it used to be for barracuda before Keys angling guides pushed to have it listed as a gamefish. In other southern states, anglers appreciate saltwater catfish, but not so much in Florida. It’s time for a change! By the end of the day, after landing numerous sail cats on light spin tackle, my fishing buddy Bob Wayne, a renowned saltwater flyfisherman who has chased fish worldwide and appeared on covers of several national fly fishing magazines, is a devoted convert to the gafftopsail!
Click on the link below to view a pdf of my article on sailcat fishing that appeared in the June 2018 issue of Florida Sportsman
“Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing it is not the fish they are after.” Henry David Thoreau
December 19, 2017
The Ice Man Cometh this weekend sayeth the weatherman….so time to sneak away for one last outing in the water and dances with trout. With 50 degree weather and light winds in the forecast, I decide to visit my home water, the Arkansas River just upstream from Salida. I know a stretch where the valley is broad and the sunshine plentiful, even in winter, and hopefully the fish cooperative.
When I arrive at just after noon after a short 15-minute drive from my cabin, I am treated to a picture-perfect scene, abundant sunshine, and no ice flow on the river. Two weeks ago several nights of single digit temperatures had clogged up the water with ice, but now it’s flowing freely, at least for a couple of more days.
The Arkansas River Below Big Bend
I used that spate of cold weather profitably, hunkering down inside with the fireplace going to tie up a bunch of my favorite fly pattern for the upcoming season—a concoction I created called a green hotwire beadhead caddis. Naturally, it’s a simple tie—I am no Rembrandt at the fly-tying vise. But it works, and how!!
This Vise Is An Eminently Acceptable Vice To PursueHotwire Beadhead Caddis Nymph
I wade into one of my familiar reliable pools, the water frigid despite wearing three pairs of socks underneath my neoprene waders. On my third cast the little yellow yarn strike indicator, below which dangle two nymphs, hesitates ever so slightly. I lift my rod slowly and it’s FISH ON! Just a little brownie, but a good start. No skunk for me on this final 2017 outing.
For the next hour or so, I have a ball laying out long casts over the crystal clear water. At the end of the year fly casting becomes so natural, so easy, so graceful that it’s a treat in itself to watch the line unfurl, and the tiny flies alight delicately on the water exactly where the cast was aimed. A bonus is hooking an occasional trout. The first half-dozen are small (all on the beadhead caddis except for one on a big stonefly nymph), but then a nice 14-inch brown surprises me by nailing the caddis in a shallow, fast mid-stream run where the fish are not supposed to be this time of year.
Trout On Ice
Usually they retreat to deeper pools where the slow-moving water is warmer. Then if to prove the point, 15 minutes later an even bigger, stronger 15-inch rainbow gobbles the caddis nymph in a deeper hole off the main current.
Chunky Rainbow Provides Exclamation Point For 2017 Angling Adventures
As I release the shiny beauty, I take a seat on the bank and reflect on what a wonderful world we have and what a wonderful year 2017 has been thanks to family, friends, and yes, fish. Great gifts and a refuge in turbulent times. My little sweetheart of a granddaughter, Aly, went from baby to toddler in a flash, and along the way exhibited a strong predilection for running water and playing in creeks. Sure way to grandpa’s heart!!
My Sweetheart Aly–That’s a Stick In Her Hand, Not A Flyrod…Yet!
I have had many great adventures in the wilds this year, alone and with friends. Solitude and pristine nature abounded and surrounded me, kept me peaceful and sane. It has been written that fishing is a perpetual series of occasions of hope, elusive but attainable. And so it is with life. 2017 has been a wonderful year, and I see hope on the water and in the world for 2018. My best to all my readers, compatriots, and friends for the New Year. Here is a tribute to 2017 in pictures….indeed a wonderful world!!
My home water near Salida, Colorado, the Big Arkansas River (grew up on the Little Ar-Kansas in Kansas) is fishing well for Brownies right now. Five inches of snow a week ago, but bright warm sunshine has melted it all, and trout are fattening up for winter. Mercifully, no hordes of rafters or float fishermen. Water levels dropping this week so wading will be less risky–down from 700 CFS to 550 near Salida. Use caddis nymphs and follow warm weather and warmer water downstream from Salida towards Cañon City. Look for fish in quieter, sunny pools near shoreline. Gentlemen’s fishing hours from 10:30 am to 3 pm when sun is on water. Stayed warm with neoprene waders and three pair of socks. Felt soles and wading staff advisable–rocks very slick!! And keep an eye out for some beautiful bighorn sheep!!
