This morning Dad ,the kids, and I went out on the cape horn to see what we could find.  We headed out of Sherman Cove and had decided to try our luck at Ft. Pickens first.  On the way there, between the two little jetties on the east side of the pass, we saw lots of surface action.  We pulled in and started throwing gotchas, spoons, mirrolures, white jigs, live shrimp, and just about anything else we could pull out of the tackle box, all to no avail.  Can't say for sure what it was schooling like that, but the likely answer would be bonito. 

After tiring of watching multitudes of fish swim past the boat without a single strike we moved over to Ft. Pickens.  We circled the old pier once and only had one bite so we drifted over near the new pier.  We were throwing a carolina rig baited with a live shrimp in between the pier pilings, then bringing it back, slowly.  I caught a grunt, Dad catches I grunt, I catch a grunt then BAM, "Hey DAD!!  I got a real fish!".  I am fishing with 8lb test monofilament on a reel with a sticking drag (brand new Penn in the rod holder), and the pole is bent in half with the spool jerking and jerking, slowly releasing line to the monster below.  As the fight ensues, Dad has to take control of the boat so that we dont drift into the pier.  So he's driving the boat, and I am fighting whatever it is on the end of the line.  It keeps making a run for the barnacle ridden pilings but I keep managing to turn it's head around before he gets too close to them.  Finally, the fish surfaces. RED FISH.  I get her to the port side of the boat and Dad, who has now navigated the boat from the new pier all the way to the east end of the old pier, avoiding snags on the way, grabs her and throws her into the boat .  I grab the fish stick and she goes EXACTLY 27. I throw her in the holding tank and......, oh sh*t, we forgot the ice!!  So instead we fill the compartment with water and hope she'll be alright till we go.

Now my step daughter keeps saying "Dad is catching more fish", "dad's fish is bigger than grandpa's", " Dad catches more fish than Grandpa", etc.  I can tell it's starting to wear on Dad's nerves.  A couple grunts and blue fish later, Dad hooks up with a nice fish right where I hooked mine.  This time I have to navigate the boat and I discover it is not as easy as Dad made it look.  I think I almost hit the pier once....oops.  And at one point I leaned across the captain seat to grab the gaff and hit the throttle with my knee, slamming the motor into a wide open reverse.  Meanwhile, Dad is cursing me and attempting to reel in his fish, at which he is finally successful.  It's a 25 inch red.

 

I work to live but I live to FISH

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