We scattered the ashes, and I figured I might not make another trip there the way things were going. But something happened over the last few years, and I have to believe it has a lot to do with fish conservation efforts.
When I was growing up, it was a good thing to bring as many fish to the dock as we could. Size limits for trout, reds and snook were in place, but with the exception of snook, there was no bag limit.
But now, the increase in catch-and-release fishing, savvy anglers, and some very strict size and bag limits have helped bring Florida Bay back from what many considered the brink of destruction. Florida Bay is thriving, and the fishing appears to be as good as it ever was.
I fished last week with a couple of old friends from my years in Miami, Dr. Richard Kernish, a fixture on the Flamingo fishing scene for many years, and his partner Jim O'Brien, a soon to be charter captain. They took me back thirty years last week.
I was in Miami last week on some family business, and because of the situation, never even planned to fish. But things worked out and the three of us headed for Flamingo in Everglades National Park.
The first stop was a set of GPS numbers that Richard had recorded on a prior trip. When we reached the numbers, we were greeted by a huge school of pogies (menhaden shad). They were positioned over some live bottom and a nice ledge that seemed to keep them there.
Mixed in the school of baitfish were numerous small tarpon, feeding at will, and several schools of permit and jack crevalle. We managed a few jacks, a few sharks, hung and missed a permit, and watched as Richard broke his rod catching a tarpon, estimated to be forty pounds, on twelve pound casting tackle. A few tripletail were present in their very peculiar way, and Jim managed to pull a small one from an old crab trap float.
From there we headed to our primary target area, in search of some big mangrove snapper. While Richard and I rigged our lines, Jim picked up the small cane pole and began catching small pinfish. While we watched, not one, but several seatrout followed the fighting pinfish to the surface. We were way up on a flat where we figured we would only catch pinfish, but the trout were everywhere.
For the next couple of hours, the fishing - actually the catching - was nonstop. We moved several times to different areas of the flat looking for snapper, and in every case, we found trout.
We did manage to catch ten or twelve snapper - they have not made the transition to the flats yet - and while we were doing that we caught over fifty seatrout between the three of us. These were not small fish; some of them went four or five pounds, a respectable trout in anybody's book. What a day!
I could not help but notice that the water was clear and the turtle grass flats we fished looked extremely healthy. Florida Bay had made a comeback.
I thought about some of the trips I made to these same flats with my father. I pictured all the fish we caught, and as we passed the area where we spread his ashes, I realized that I had just experienced a day from the past! I only wish he could have been there with me.
