Remote Backwaters

[Superman]

With cooler weather approaching, water temperatures are dropping in the bays and estuaries making it uncomfortable for some species such as snook and redfish. This is the time of year when these fish and others take to the farthest reaches of the rivers, the most remote backwaters available. My client today was Mike Bradley of Chicago, here with his family for the Thanksgiving holiday. I picked Mike up at the Holiday Inn Riverfront, and as we made our way to the ramp, we discussed the day's strategy, what lures and methods we would use, where the fish would most likely be, and a little history of the area. After putting my skiff, "The Crocodile II", into the water, we ran to the old Braden Castle Trailer Park, where we paused for a bit to cast top water lures along the pier for snook. This old pier has been a long time favorite spot this time of year, as the snook will stop and feed here while working further up river to warmer waters. The "Castle" ruins still stand in the park, visible from the water. It was the site of an early 1800's settlement; a real piece of Florida history as the settlers fought a battle with the Seminole indians of the area. A Florida Historic Site plaque stands by the ruins, with a brief story of what happened there. We made several investigative casts towards the pier, without any results, then headed even further up the river toward the Trooper Jeffery Young Bridge, which crosses the river as part of I-75. Near the bridge are a group of old pilings, my guess being the remains of an old fisherman's shack, about 100 yards from the north shore. Snook and redfish often congregate here for the benefit of the structure. I stopped the engine and started poling us nearer the pilings, with Mike on the bow casting as we approached. His third cast landed just inside the perimeter of the pilings, and as he started his retrieve, a huge splash signaled the attention of a good sized snook. The fish struck at the bait several times, finally retreating to the safety of the pilings. Repeating the cast in the same path, Mike let the bait sit for several seconds before starting to reel. The first movement of the bait got the attention of another fish, which didn't hesitate or strike short. With a great deal of work, Mike wrestled the fish from the wooden structure, finally landing a nice 20 inch red. I poled the boat around the pilings as Mike continued casting. After a bit, we decided the one redfish was all we would get from there and continued our journey. As we snaked our way upriver, memories from my childhood flooded into my mind. I was born on this river, literally, as the hospital is on the riverfront, and spent nearly ever day of my childhood investigating it's furthest reaches, fishing and camping along it's tranquil shore with my friends. There are many areas of the river that are completely inaccessible by land now, because of unrestrained development. The only way in is by boat, and there are no detailed maps of the swamps and marshes, making it easy to get lost or confused. The shallow nature of the river is also something to consider when fishing back here, it's not a deep body of water by any means, with a channels that twist and turn like a mountain road. The rewards far outnumber the drawbacks, however, as one who visits these still-remote areas will see eagles, deer, alligators, foxes and many other forms of wildlife. Mike and I climbed into the "Crocodile's" tower, watching closely for re-direction of the channel, and only running at idle speed to avoid bottoming out or spooking the fish. We were now in the brackish water marsh, which lines the edges of the river for miles eastward of the interstate. Reminiscent of the Everglades, all you can see is grass and salt reeds, with the occasional swallow-tailed kite and marsh hawk swerving overhead as they hunt for food. This part of the river holds a lot of fish in the winter, even small tarpon can sometimes be found taking advantage of it's slightly warmer waters. As the small creek we were in opened slightly, the depth also increased to about two feet. I stopped the boat, quietly lowered the push-pole, and edged us in as Mike took his position on the bow with the fly rod. Preparing about forty feet of line for a cast, Mike saw a small wake near the edge of the reeds ahead. He cast towards it, dropping the large, feathery fly on his target like a real pro. Once, twice, three times he stripped the fly line, his efforts quickly answered by the snook he cast to. The five-pounder peeled line from the 9 weight reel like a leashed bullet, with Mike palming the reel to slow him down. The fish tried to reach a downed palm tree, but the efforts of my client stopped him short of that obstacle, turning him back towards the boat. "Instead of reeling", I shouted, "Just hand-line him!" Mike pulled line in as fast as he could, only to lose it again when the fish saw the boat, but with a bit more control and the fish losing steam, he was able to regain his lost line and finally land the fish. We released the snook and started back out towards the river for more, my client already satisfied with his two fish, talking excitedly about his day and what more he had to look forward to. Our day progressed slowly, catching a few more fish, though less spectacular, but Mike had enjoyed his trip into the backwater as anyone would their first safari.