On to Flamingo!

February has traditionally been the most miserable in Texas, weatherwise; though it now competes with our increasingly hot summers. At any rate, this month is great for another road trip and getting out of Dodge, if you don’t mind towing a boat and trailer down IH-10. We made so many of those trips over the years that they became almost second nature, and we didn’t have nearly the luxury tow vehicles like we have today. (Try a Volkswagen in August).

I have friends in Arlington who, last summer, picked up a new boat in South Florida and then spent five days exploring Flamingo, at the southern tip of Florida. Brandon Pope reports they caught plenty of snook, and had sharks chase their fish onto the beach five times in one day, which was exciting action. The sharks there this past summer have become a problem, even dragging one angler out of his boat when he tried to rinse his hands…He didn’t even have time to scream. Fortunately, the shark turned loose while the guy was underwater. He came up sputtering, still wearing his sunglasses. He was flown to Miami and, combined with surgery, it probably cost him the proverbial arm and a leg, just because because he didn’t carry a fish towel on the boat that day. So, stick your hands in the water in this area, and never get off the boat. The flats are waist-deep mud.

During February I’ve made several excellent trips to Flamingo, located in Everglades National Park. The water stays pretty murky around the “town” that has two boat ramps, plenty of fish, a campground, boat rentals and marina. The sturdy fish cleaning table hasn’t changed since I was a kid there in 1965, though it’s now screened in from mosquitoes. (Mostly absent in February). The water a mile or two south of town is greener, and then blacker up north in serious mangrove country. The area is speckled with islands offshore, and a maze of jungle to the north. The only hassle is the nearest town with motel and restaurants is 50 miles away.  The marina is nice and they rent kayaks and outboard center consoles for a reasonable price.

The fishing there is very different from Texas during winter. Most cold fronts never reach Flamingo, and if one does and the wind blows, there are many square miles of sheltered, forested creeks and bays. I was amazed to see the grouper fishing there in February, where you tie the boat to a tree and drop down live pinfish. Fishing in the shade for grouper, that’s quite a rarity. We caught a dozen gag and goliath grouper, and this was the day after the guide had fished the same spots and broke off some big fish. It seems that gag grouper migrate inshore in winter, and they’re happy to sit in flat calm water under the trees. It was like fishing Toledo Bend in the old days. The goliaths live there all year long, and that place is the epicenter for the species. They’ve been protected since 1990, although a few kill tags were introduced last year. Goliaths have bounced back so well in Florida, they’ve become a problem, stealing people’s hooked fish. Including three-foot sharks, snook, snapper, permit, etc. They’re not picky.

For faster action, it seems every Spanish mackerel from there to Louisiana have arrived. They winter there and jam up in open waters south and west of the boat ramp, stretching 22 miles down to Islamorada and then further to Marathon in the Keys. And “they hungry,” too; our guide spent an hour chum-blocking pinfish and pilchards near the boat while anchored in a grassy channel, catching them with a big castnet. We then ran a couple miles offshore to 12 feet of water, where there were several small sunken wrecks we couldn’t quite see in that green water. Live baiting with those pilchards, we caught three-pound mackerel until our arms were limp, and raised quite a sweat in doing so. It was a hot and glassy, calm day. We were, after all, a little south of Miami.  We could have slayed the mackerel with gold spoons, but the guide didn’t even carry artificials; they don’t seem to want clients slinging treble hooks that far from the ER. We also caught kingfish of a dozen pounds or so, mixed in with their smaller mackerel cousins.

We then raced a little inshore to another wreck off Sand Key. Baited up with pinfish, we landed a half dozen ling, all hooked on bottom. It seems that ling migrate from Louisiana and all points in between, to winter down in Florida Bay where we were.

Up north at Shark River, the northern entrance to all of that mangrove country, our live pilchards came in handy with big snook. With the tide coming in, they’d sling weightless, live pilchards and let them ride the current until, thump! Not a measly flounder thump, but a big snook thump that would soon take off, jumping all the while. Very impressive. 

We then headed into Shark River and drove around several bends, before anchoring again in 12 feet of water. It was a spot where bottom sand and mud has been peeled away down to bedrock, and that’s where the grouper hang out. The guides use a “knocker rig” where the sliding egg sinker knocks against the hook. Live pinfish were dropped to the bottom. In that black, tannin-stained water, it took grouper several minutes to find the bait, but they certainly did. We caught ten or so, from small up to three feet long. This inshore area is a nursery for these fish, and we didn’t see bigger ones, although one would need bigger tackle and bait to tempt a fish that can weigh 300 pounds.

The biggest goliaths we saw were out in Florida Bay, within sight of Flamingo. After catching a two-pound crevalle jack, we approached a day marker and anchored. I tossed out a handline with the jack pinned to a pair of black, 16/0 circle hooks. Before I could put on gloves, I got the biggest thump ever, and the line in my hands tightened. What followed was an epic battle as the monster tried to plow inside the channel marker’s girders. It was like fighting a manatee, what with the wallowing and splashing. Meanwhile, the guide couldn’t start his new outboard, so we could pull that fish away from structure. The motor finally caught and we dragged the fish 30 yards before re-anchoring for pictures and working the hooks loose. We didn’t measure it, but it was quite the monster. You’re not supposed to pull the big ones aboard for a picture, but keep them in the water. The brute was revived and promptly dove back down with a splash.

To check it out, one can fly to Miami, rent a car and drive to Flamingo less than two hours away, and then rent a boat or arrange a guide. A number of Islamorada guides drive their boats north to Flamingo when the weather is nice, and perhaps they pick up clients there. In February, the bugs are minimal and the sharks mostly thinned out. Mostly.