My Tarpon Journey

I just got back from my most recent attempt at placing my hand on a tarpon. Every trip I make I seem to get a little further down this road. I’ve seen them, gotten them to look at my fly, follow my fly, eat and spit my fly, hooked them and then broke the leader, jumped them and then broke the leader, and hooked and fought one until I was so exhausted and hot I almost passed out in the heat, only to have it come unbuttoned. In other words, just about everything but get one to the boat where I can pet it for a second before releasing it.

This latest trip to the panhandle of Florida was no different. When I returned to the condo after my final day, there were two guys outside drinking a beverage after a long day of bottom fishing. They’d had a great day catching snapper and grouper. They were happy and talkative, the beverage was helping. They had seen me with a flyrod and one asked me what I had been fishing for and I said “tarpon”. I explained that I had three eats but no hookup, two follows, a couple that came up and looked at the fly and one that even kind of lipped it or tasted it. After my explanation I noticed their eyes were kind of glazed over and one said, “So did you see any tarpon?” Maybe it was the fault of the beverage, I just said “yeah” and left it at that, because fly fishing for tarpon is absolutely nothing like dropping a baited line into deep water and waiting for a bite that won’t be long in coming.

It would have been so nice to pull out my phone and show a nice pic of a tarpon with a big ole fly in his mouth, but it was not to be, again. All I had was a litany of failed attempts. That’s tarpon fishing. Not very exciting to the listener, but if they had been there and experienced the heart pumping frenetic activity that occurs when a tarpon shows up, they would understand that I actually had a pretty good day, even with the disappointment of not touching the fish. And if they had heard the tongue lashing I unleashed at the tarpon as they disappeared into the depths, they certainly would not understand why I keep coming back.

But I do keep coming back. My guide said fly fishing for migrating tarpon is like bow hunting for deer, sitting on a stand all day for just one moment of excitement which may or may not end in success. For the uninitiated, let me explain.

My first day was pretty much uneventful and we got blown out by the wind early. I did have a “wrong way” fish come from behind the stern across a sandy place where I could see him and made a cast, but the cast was a little past the fish and when I stripped the fly it darted toward the fish’s face and he bolted. It was a good lesson in how not to present a fly to a tarpon.

My second day began with a ride out to an area just off the beach in the early morning gloom. We anchored the boat and began watching toward the East trying to see a tarpon roll, a tarpon fin, or better yet, a tarpon wake. The water is dark at this time of day and the grass beds on the bottom don’t help. My guide, from experience, knew where the tarpon were traveling. Migratory tarpon move from east to west. Occasionally you may see a “wrong way tarpon” but it probably just made a circle.

When you spot a tarpon the guide will tell you if he thinks it will come by in casting distance and since in the early morning you can’t see the fish, it’s a guessing game as to where he may be unless he makes a wake. If there’s no wake, you just have to time his progress in your head and make a cast to where you think he will be. Tarpon travel at 3-5 miles per hour. The rule of thumb is one fish length per second (5 miles per hour is 7.33 feet per second). Even with a wake you still have to make a judgement call on where to cast so the fly has time to sink to his depth to be in front of him when he reaches it. Pulling a fly across a tarpon’s face is a no-no, the tarpon don’t like it. Tarpon are kind of like crappie, their faces look up so the fly needs to be slightly above him and ideally going away from him, smoothly. Yeah, not like bait fishing.

My first good shot at a tarpon came very early, the surface was calm and we spotted his fin first and then were able to track a barely discernable wake headed toward the bow of the boat. I made a cast about fifteen feet in front of the wake, let the fly sink a bit and then tucked the rod under my arm pit and began double stripping, listening to the guide who was telling me when and how fast to strip. I couldn’t see the fish in the early morning light and dark water, but just as the leader got to within ten feet of the rod tip, there was an explosion and I saw the head of the fish, but I felt no pressure. A miss.

My guide, Nick Sassic, made me feel better by saying that it was the fault of fish, he just missed. I think he was being nice, the fish are moving pretty fast and they can put slack in the line when they take the fly. If you don’t strip fast enough they can spit the fly before the line comes tight.

Another fish came along and didn’t take on the first cast. Just as the guide said “he’s gone”, I did what I call a “Belgian SLAM” which is pulling the line back low with the rod, and just making a big tight oval and dropping the line while its high to account for having more line out than the cast requires. The fly dropped in front of the fish and this fish too followed and then boiled like he ate it but the line never went tight. When I didn’t feel him I turned my body to the left, the guide said that was my fault. Not a trout set mind you because I wasn’t holding the rod, but nevertheless, the rule is to just strip it, strip it faster if possible.

My third fish that morning was detected when we saw its fin come out of the water. We followed the wake as it came directly at me, which was a good track for a take. I was stripping furiously as the fish took the fly and for just a second I felt him and then he was gone. I think a profanity was uttered along with one or two “I hate tarpon”.

When the sun was about to get where we could start seeing in the water, the guide wanted to move the boat to a place where we had some sand and could see the fish. Just as I stepped down from the casting platform, two tarpon fins popped out of the water in front of the bow, as if to say “see ya!”.

The guide found a place next to the grass where he said the tarpon would turn due to the depth and expose themselves over a small sand flat, allowing us to see the fish to cast to them and work them.

Unfortunately it was a long time between fish and when the fish would show they came out of the grass and turned and went back in quickly with little time to execute. Finally, as the tide put more water on the flat, the fish began coming by further out, allowing me to get some casts. The guide had the back of the boat over the sand and I was on the bow out over the grass, so the shots were basically behind the boat. With the guide and the platform in the way my only shots were at 7-8 o’clock and then on the opposite side of the boat just before they were going straight away. I was able to cast to a couple of fish and get them to turn and follow. Finally a group of fish came right at the boat at 9:00, I got the fly in the right place and one of the fish floated up towards the fly, got right behind it and kind of lipped at it before rejecting it. It made me a nervous wreck and a “I hate tarpon” was uttered.

A pair of fish were coming by the boat and I got an early cast off to them but I stripped the fly out of their lane and I had just enough room to pick up and re-cast. Unfortunately the cast had to be so fast I couldn’t get the head back to the tip quick enough so I had to pick the line up with almost ten feet of overhang. I had a ten foot leader, fifty foot head and ten feet of overhang but I managed to pick it all up and drop it nicely. The two fish saw the fly and followed but they spooked when they saw the boat. They guide said “good cast”, I’ll take that any day. I got one more fish to follow and give kind of a look or pass at the fly before the wind kicked up and it was time to go.

Notes for future trips (these blog articles are as much a way of organizing my thoughts for myself as anything):

My saltwater quick cast was working great but when the wind started blowing hard from my left it was blowing my leash into the line on the boat and the hook hung my fly line when I needed to make a shot. I resolved it by just holding the line in a conventional saltwater quick cast format.

My homemade “tarpon” belt using my rod holder, belt and line holder worked great. I used a rubber band on the rod handle to put the tail of the fly in and I put the leash and the haul line in the line clip. With the rod in the rod holder this way and the line in the line clip, I didn’t have to hold that heavy 11wt or 12 wt for hours on end. I was actually hands free and as a result, my rod hand didn’t get stiff and I was better able to deal with the long session on the casting deck. It was also very fast to execute a cast whenever a fish showed.
Retire the fly, too many missed hookups!