# Sunday from every direction



## orlgheenoer (Dec 10, 2006)

Not often enough I get the opportunity to spend the day on the water with Tanner. I always enjoy my time on thte water with Tanner for many reasons, but most of all it is his desire to just be out there, regardles of the outcome. His skills are always sharp and he is selfless on hte poling platform.

After arriving promptly at the appointed time, he and I loaded up in the golf cart with fly tackle and made the short drive to load up Old # 33 at the dock. As soon as we stepped out next to the ICW we could feel the west wind spilling over hte trees that had moments ago provided enough of a break to make us think we were going to be treated to calm conditions.

The bow of the skiff swung to the south as the engine came alive and we were off towards our first destination in the middle of Mosquito Lagoon.

We braved the open water of Tiger Basin hoping to shorten our commute. As George's Bar faded behind us the quartering swell rose. Soon we were bobbing and weaving our way through the chop without a care or concern.

The ride smoothed somewhat as we entered The Gut and plowed along the marked running lane. We waved a hearty good morning to Capt. Tripp as we swung around Bird Island still intent on reaching our final destination.

As we finally began ducking to the lee side of some land we found much more hospitable conditions. I eased the throttle back and settled into a small cove. The shoreline favored a right hander's cast, so Tanner took the bow.

In a few hundred yards we saw the first signs of life as a bronze back emerged tight to the shore beneath a scrub sized mangrove. Despite a handful of perfect casts the fish meandered away without mistaking Tanner's fly for prey. For the next little while we watched tails pop up and fish push away just out of range.

We staked out for a bit and took in the quiet stillness that was only interupted by a buffeting wind from the west. We took advantage of the break by opting for a fly change to see if hte reds would show interest in something else from hte menu.

As we began to silently move north again we were quickly met with another opportunity as a five fish school slid along a bank appearing to be on the hunt. Agian several well presented shots were ignored.

Tanner offered to give me a chance up front so we switched positions as we drifted across deeper water. I hopped up on the casting platform and stripped line into the cockpit to prepare for a shot. As I turned my attention to several pot holes ahead and to the right I saw the dark silohette of a trout lurking along the edge of a small sandy patch. I dropped my fly out in front of her and as it settled she swam out and ate it. I gave my line a quick strip to set the hook and I immediately felt her weight. After a short fight she was boated.

I spent a little while longer up front in search of a redfish to add to my dady's tally. I had shots, but as had been Tanner's fate, refusals were the name of the game.

As we poled through a back bay we came upon some structure that looked out of place. As we poled towards it the shapes began to become more clear, airplane parts. The old twisted hunks of aluminum brought about questions of how long ago had some fateful day taken a turn for the worse for an aviator as he crossed over the waters we were fishing.

By mid day we had explored our section of the middle lagoon without finding a redfish that was willing to eat a fly, so we elected to move north in search of better luck.

We began poling again in the shadows of an old settler's homestead. Tanner stood at the bow with rod in hand awaiting his opportunity. It came quickly as we spotted a blue tinged tail breaking the surface along the shore. Again shots that typically result in a hooked fish were made, yet it was as though the fly was presented in stealth mode as a disinterested redfish lazily swam by and continued along without reaction.

After making our way back to running depth we were again on the move. We made a circituitous route to another spot and began the search again. By now the wind had begun to abate. We enjoyed approximately forty minutes of near slick conditions as we spotted no less than thirty or so fish, both singles and pairs. Each time a fly was placed in there path they lazily changed direction until they faded from view. The near slick conditions deteriorated as the winds turned onshore. We took the hint and headed back to the ramp.

Despite a day of mostly refusals we had a wonderful journey. After cleaning up the skiff and grabbing a quick lunch we grabbed spinning gear and picked up the golf cart and set out to pond hop for bass.

An hour of casting plugs yielded a half dozen or so green machines up to five plus pounds.

Thanks to Tanner for joining me on a blustery spring Sunday when the wind blew from every direction.

cHill'n is Good. 

-words from the pilot of ole #33

Pictures from a passenger...


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## thresher (Dec 18, 2006)

That first photo. Dayum (!) I posted that first pic (with credit of course) to inshore. I would love to have a copy in fullsize.


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## The_Volfish (Jan 22, 2008)

> I posted that first pic (with credit of course) to inshore.


Cheeto Chatzy: :'(


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## brew1891 (Dec 10, 2006)

fun day on the water...nice report...great pics...cool skiff...what could be better?


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## Apollobeachsam (Dec 14, 2006)

Nice pics Tanner..


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## HaMm3r (Dec 11, 2006)

Hey...that was really well written.  Good job and thanks for the tale. [smiley=1-thumbsup3.gif]


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## tom_in_orl (Dec 9, 2006)

Enjoyed the narrative and the pics! Nice job guys.


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