Fish-on, Fish-on, Fish-on was the call to the captain as we slowed the boat and dropped our sails. With mostly barracuda harassing our hooks this was a different kind of pull. Diving deep the shimmer of silver was breath taking. It looks massive until the line went limp and the struggling victim obediently made its way to the surface.
With little life or fight left it was obvious someone had interfered in the fight.
At least our foe had left us some of the spoil.
Few things keep a fly fisherman on his toes late into the night. With a strong offshore breeze and the salty sea breaking against the shore even the darkest night holds great possibilities. Every cast with the clouser minnow skipping across sea foam and weeds is a blind effort to reach the Silver King.
The black water breaks with a gulp of delight and the small clouser is engulfed by the lurking tarpon. With an ariel display the jumps begin. I quickly learned the fly fisherman’s rule “bow to the tarpon” allowing the rod to ease the strain of the salty warrior. Jump after jump, after jump the show is on and the energy transfers to every nerve in your body. Leap up on leap either turns into a quick release or the triumphant landing of this spectacular fish.
