Battling barracuda in Keys an angler’s delight

TAVERNIER, Fla. — It was the only time to sneak away for a few days of sun and scrumptious Florida stone crabs.

It was a perfect time to recharge our batteries after months of dealing with incapable bureaucrats at the nursing home where my wife’s 95-year old mother sits every day and wonders about the meaning of life.

So, to the Flordia Keys we drove from Boca Raton, full of anticipation and hopes that the puffy, white clouds wouldn’t obstruct some of the sun’s rays.

This was one of the few getaways I didn’t escape to in one of my juicy fictional spy novels. My four-piece, #9 weight Grandt travel fly rod easily took care of that. I carried the rod to a makeshift pier consisting of massive chunks of salvaged coral.

Even with a 30 mph easterly wind I was still able to scan shallow water and observe the marine life scurrying around.

There was a small, sheltered cove off to my right, separated from the ocean. It was ringed by coral walls, which in turn allowed the water to remain quite calm on the surface.

I had my long-billed flats hat on, as well as a very good pair of Polarized sunglasses. Plus, I was wearing a long-sleeved flats shirt to protect my arms from the sun.

As I looked to that area where there seemed to be surface action, I could now see schools of baitfish trying to outrun a pair of torpedo-like barracuda and remain alive — without success, I might add. The hungry predators went about their feeding frenzy like well-oiled eating machines, pre-programmed by their genetic makeup.

I sat down and proceeded to run the fly line through the guides and subsequently tied a wire leader to the heavy butt end. I only had a half-dozen big flies in my shirt pocket, so I chose one of my home-brew, ultra-colorful weighted Clouser Minnows.

Bob Clouser was a genius when it came to designing fly patterns, and his famous Clouser Minnow could nail anything from a bluegill to a tarpon.

With the wind at my back I had the advantage. I stripped off about 50 feet of line and made four or five false casts to to where all the commotion was happening. The fly landed right in front of one of the silver bullets, just long enough to garner its attention. I said to myself, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Cuda. Chew on this present.”

I retrieved line like a madman because these fish seem to react to quickly moving lures. And he apparently went for the ruse.

That fish reversed its course and took off at breakneck speed, causing my fly reel’s drag to sound like a clacking jug band’s washboard. After 10 minutes of give-and-take, I managed to beach the 8-pounder. The Clouser Minnow was barbless, so the hook extraction was a simple matter.

I released the cantankerous, black-striped youngster back into the water. I checked the fly’s knot on the wire leader and looked for the other ’cuda. It was right where I had left it when I hooked the first one. This time I made a cast 15 feet from the fish’s nose and proceeded to strip line in and back to me at high speed. This fish seemed more aggressive than No. 1 and gobbled the fly on one pass.

Barracuda have tremendous pulling power, as do many saltwater fish. This one practically took all my fly line.

I took a chance and screwed the drag down to the tightest position and that seemed to put a hitch in the fish’s giddyup. I brought it to the rocks after 15 minutes of give and take. I was a very happy camper when I released it. The whole affair lasted a half hour. Pure pleasure. No sun burn — and no bruised knuckles from a reel handle. It was a pre-Christmas tease and I was glad for it.

ŸContact Mike Jackson at angler88@comcast.net, and catch his radio show 6-7 a.m. Sundays on WSBC 1240-AM and live-streamed at www.mikejacksonoutdoors.com.