Guided Trips

If you’ve been thinking about booking a fishing guide, consider a handy list of what to bring. And when just fishing with friends, that checklist can be useful. Even if it’s a short day on the water, it helps to be prepared. What could go wrong on a three-hour tour? Plenty.   

When fishing with a guide, always inquire if live bait is needed, and who will provide it. In Texas, some guides rack up big monthly bills buying live croakers for bait, a lucrative business for marinas. (A few years ago, lifelong POC resident Billy, who ran Clark’s Marina bait shop, told me they were selling 800 dozen croakers each Saturday during summer.) But, croakers are only one option; guides use a variety of live bait across the five Gulf States. There are live shrimp sold by the quart, pinfish on Florida’s Gulf coast and the Keys. Even pigfish (piggies) for snook around Naples. Or small crabs for tarpon at Boca Grande. Regardless, it’s good to know ahead of time what the situation is with bait. And if live bait isn’t available, what to fall back on? Cold weather can shut down all of those bait species.

Many guides rely entirely on bait and won’t even carry artificials on the boat. They prefer to avoid having (an average) of four guys with unknown skills slinging jigs, spoons and plugs. I’ve seen big, burly guys almost faint at the sight of a hook stuck in someone’s hand or arm, soon to be snatched out by the captain. Crowded casting isn’t a problem with waders, who spread out in a line, shuffling forward or halting when their guide gives the signal.

If you have favorite tackle to bring along, a guide probably won’t mind, unless it’s Mickey Mouse gear that won’t do the job. Breaking off quality fish for various reasons, including inadequate line, and the day’s catch (and maybe the guide’s patience) is diminished. 

I’ve been on a number of guided trips and several times around the Gulf Coast, the guides looked blank when I inquired if they even had a single gold spoon on the boat. On one trip we spent an hour castnetting live bait, then moved a few miles and began tossing them out to chummed-up mackerel. Which was something of a no-brainer, easy as tossing bread to chickens. Topwater plugs would have been amazing, that day. Learning from that, I began to carry a discreet plastic box the size of a paperback novel, filled with “killer baits” as Joe Doggett would say. White jigs, gold spoons and a few plugs I believe in. On another trip we anchored 30 yards from an oyster reef and the guide’s pop corks sat way out there, baited with live pinfish, hoping for trout. We were on a huge bay boat, only two guests and there was lots of room. Getting bored, I tied on a favorite spoon and was soon bowed up on upper-slot redfish. The 50-year old guide was impressed; he was a Harvard grad whose health collapsed from stress on Wall Street, and he’d recently taken up guiding.

With that said, tacklebox size is the key here; as a guest you don’t want to drag aboard a huge Plano box crammed with 40 years of collected tackle that blocks deck space like the rock of Gibraltar.

My boat is packed with every necessity I can think of, from a variety of buckets, castnet, portable live well, five rods, three flat tackleboxes, pushpole, paddle, just about everything we could need. Also a battery charger for cell phones. I even have a spot during the day, where if someone has a serious bathroom call, I can put them ashore. That doesn’t always work, however. One guy from New Jersey had the urge, and I pointed at the nearest shoreline with nice mangrove trees for cover. He said, “No freaking way.” He wanted a proper bathroom, actually requested “a nice one.” So, we sped back to POC and I then drove him to Speedy’s, where they have bathrooms with AC and music. It was a half hour boat ride and his composure was admirable. He was a young guy who’d been shot on Christmas Eve while shopping downtown back in Jersey, and spent weeks in the hospital. (You meet all kinds when fishing with the public.)

Some guys are thoughtful enough to bring their own portable pee bottles so they don’t have to teeter on the side of the boat, which can be hazardous. People have toppled overboard, gotten hypothermia or drowned while relieving themselves. Recently, a guide looked up as an older gent was happily peeing on the lower deck of the boat like he was out in the woods. The new guide was speechless and he learned a lesson that day, always carry a bucket...    

Clothing. The most common items that guests don’t bring is adequate clothing. They’ll show up on the sunny coast in a warm parking lot, hoping to earn a tan, and end up freezing their tails off on the water after a cold front has passed through, or a late thunderstorm drops the air temp. Or whitecaps get them wet. As a minimum, you can’t beat a cotton, long-sleeve shirt and long pants. And maybe a windbreaker? I had a young guy from Brazil who only spoke Portugese, show up in short sleeve and bicycle shorts in February. He may have been a bike rider, although I was never able to determine that. The night before, I texted it would be 47 degrees at the boat ramp, and to bring a coat. He wrote back: “No coat.” Maybe he’d never owned a coat, living near the equator. So, I brought three jackets. One look at him in the parking lot, and I handed over my thickest goose down hunting coat, also my fishing gloves, since he was blowing on his hands. He suffered manfully on the long boat ride, but caught redfish and a trophy trout and was soon texting photos back to friends far away. The sun and slick water warmed the day, but that jacket was his best friend.

Hats. Try to bring a hat that will provide protection from the elements, but won’t fly away several times in a day. In the back of the boat I’ve caught a few hats as they flew by, while others got hung up in the rod racks. More often we have to circle back for a soggy retrieve.

Food and drink: There’s no need to bring a picnic, but a modest sandwich and water is a good idea. A lot of the older folks won’t bring food at all, just a little water. Hardly anyone brings beer these days, although I did have a KIA car salesman and his buddy show up with a suitcase of beer, they got started at 8:30 and never let up. By afternoon it was confession time and between casts the salesman muttered: “When she broke my nose, it was time for a divorce.”

Sunglasses: Wrap-around, polarized glasses may help spot fish, and most importantly, protect the eyes from harsh sun, flying lures, lead weights and hooks. Even cheap sunglasses are better than nothing.

Shoes: Water shoes are great for primitive boat ramps, walking the beach, warm water wadefishing or throwing the castnet. Aboard deeper bay trips and offshore, you want (extra) padded, quality shoes and socks that reduce wave shock and fatigue by day’s end. Avoid shoes that leave black scuff marks on deck, and cowboy boots are frowned upon.

Cleaning Fish: Who cleans the fish? Texas guides seem resigned to that chore but in some states, it ain’t that way. In Florida I’ve seen an entire coastal town where guides are excused and clients urged to “call the fish cleaning lady.” Twenty years ago she was charging 60 cents a pound, and making more money than some guides, on Saturdays. She was replaced by a retired guy who last year charged 80 cents a pound. He just rips those fish with a Bubba Blade and it doesn’t take long.

Cooler. You would think folks would bring a fish cooler to haul their catch home. I’ve had people show up with items ranging from nothing, to small Yeti coolers that barely hold three bent fish, and from there on up to (my favorite) 48 quart coolers. One-gallon Ziploc bags are ideal for protecting the fillets. Last year one lady, who mostly fished from a family canoe said, “We didn’t bring a cooler, because we never catch fish.”

Pay: Captains really appreciate clients who bring cash. Some people at day’s end reveal that they didn’t bring money, and want to find the nearest ATM machine that actually works. Or Venmo, or write an old-fashioned check. That can be rather tiresome for a tired captain. Remember, money talks.