The Just-After-the-All-Star-Break Report

The benefit of staying up and watching all of the extra innings of the All-Star game this year was that some multi-tasking elements, (brining ballyhoos, prepping and rigging baits for the next day's offshore run), allow for some productivity beyond simply putting an extensive, Homer-Simpson dent in the sofa cushions and a equally significant dent in the beer population. Having said that, we were up well past our bedtime and the 0400 reveille came almost as an 'oh ****' moment. We can sleep during football season, so it's ok.

In spite of reports, weather , blue water, surface temp data accumulation and decyphering, the collective decision was made to venture offshore and chase the billed thingys along the bluewater breaks. Previous day's weedlines had promised good things and the breaks were still there according to all things transmitted via satellite, cable modem, radio frequency and NOAA.

Conditions at the pass showed promise with apparent sublime seas, although a northeastern wind factor prevailed and created some minor concerns as cast and crew headed south. At 35 miles, (with 40 more to go), the wind had manuevered in to a steady easterly direction and a decidedly escalated mph factor providing considerably confused seas, minor-league rollers and wind-blown whitecap conditions. A hastily considered straw poll resulted in the decision to fish short of the ultimate destination in favor of waiting out the wind factor. Hoping for condition changes prior to committing to a 75 mile return in disintegrating conditions. Gut factor, often above all else, plays a very real factor in offshore light tackle angling.

The fishing was short-lived and only slightly successful. The rods got bent and bent well, but the conditions continued to deteriorate and reluctantly the boat was pointed back toward the hill. Some man-points were accumulated during the return trip. We subsequently learned of a decidedly non-zephyric freak wind, originally emanating from the Atlantic side of south Florida had crossed the land mass and entered the Gulf, creating a jet stream that managed to completely obliterate any plans we had of fishing the placid conditions of the same area the previous day. Our boats that had gone out in the very wee hours that same day experienced truly crap conditions and a very reluctant yellowfin bite. It is what it is, as they say.

In the meantime, our inshore boats experienced a very brief and equally freakish July cobia bite that can only be described as an invasion. Rare indeed, with benign conditions and relatively clean water, the cobia just popped up everywhere in schools not to be believed. The word spread with lazer speed and the following day found the beach front crowded with tower-laden crews scanning the beaches and probing the nearshore front in numbers reminiscent of the tournament season. There were some cobia, to be sure; but the numbers hardly approached the sheer blitzkrieg of the previous day.

Should have been here yesterday. An adage that applies to all things piscatorial. Hope, it seems, indeed springs eternal and applies with equally analogous character; not only to all things piscatorial, but to those who find the Jankees back six games at the All-Star break. Like the Bombers, we do still have the rest of the season.....and the post-season to look forward to as well.

And yes, we have seen dolphins every day. No, we are not adding a dolphin cruise boat to the fleet. Yes, we are not smart. Common sense would dictate purchasing just such a vessel, loading up 80 tourists per load and touring the harbor, pass and bay at a pedestrian pace while issuing an inanely constant intercom repartee describing the all-too-obvious bottlenose mammalia that take up residence year-round. Our customers would rarely, if ever, be disappointed. We would never have to worry about weather conditions, nor lack of the targeted species and could provide background music a la elevator offerings by Barry Manilow, Neil Diamond and Yanni while we droned on through the microphones as our daily Xanax prescription kicked in.......

Sadly, we are somewhat hard-headed; bordering on the stupid, (we prefer defiant). We will continue to push south, driven by AC/DC, the Stones and other aberrant rockers in pursuit of the Chimeras of bluewater in our own inimitable, idiot-savant manner. We'll leave the Xanax prescriptions, (and all the rest), to those who need them more desperately than we do as they are hardly conducive to our chosen profession.

On that note, we all wish Ronnie Wood the best of luck in recovery.........third time is the charm, mate. Although we do question the consulting of Keef as your counselor for true rehabilitation.


We is what we is........

Standing bye,