www.capmel.com/FishingWimpsPF.htm -
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Published on: 9/3/2008
Last Visited: 9/3/2008
This kind of sets the scene for a trip I had some years back with another fishing nut, my friend Capt. Jerry Williams.
It was a cold, dank, windy Sunday morning.A front was stalled over our Tampa Bay Area.Arrangements for this outing were worked out over a week before... and by golly, Jerry and I were not going to "wimp-out."When I met him at the Davis Islands ramp it looked like someone had pulled the plug on the bay.We had never seen such a low tide at this popular launching spot.
The winds were blowing a minimum of 20-knots out of the northwest."Still wanna go?"Jerry asked, with a measure of challenge in his voice."Let's do it!"I responded, reaching for the gauntlet Jerry had thrown down.
Splashing south through the choppy waters of Hillsborough Bay, our faces were pelted with needle sharp droplets of cold rain.The several layers of clothing, including a warm ski jacket and foul weather gear on top of that kept my shivering to a minimum.After what seemed an eternity of frigid "splishing and splashing," we turned toward one of the many spoil islands which line the Sedden channel into the Port of Tampa.
Trying to position our small, 15-foot aluminum Jon boat so that we could find some protection from the brisk, chilly winds, Jerry eased the vessel to the southeast corner of the island.A small oyster bar jutted from the tip of the spoil where we would begin our nippy fishing day.Flipping out small jigs toward the oyster bar, Jerry and I managed to hook up with a few baby sea trout and a couple of hungry ladyfish.Meanwhile, the light drizzle turned into a steadier downpour.The gloom, the wind, the cold, the slow tide, the scarcity of fish, pushed the words to my quivering lips."What in the world are we doing here?""Let go in!"
Jerry said he'd agree to head for the ramp, but since we are already near one of his favorite redfish spots, and with the tide just starting to move, let's make one more brief stop.So Jerry sloshed us across the bay to his secret little "honey hole"... a very shallow grass flat that had small 'drop-offs' and some scattered rolling moss.
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However, Jerry assured me that when we reach a certain 'honey hole' "we'll hook up with some fish."
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Jerry and I simply appreciated the opportunity to tangle with such frisky lunkers on so disagreeable a day.