By Marco Pompano, Surf Fishing Guide
I loaded up the tricycle with four poles and headed down to the beach before sunrise. When I arrived it was pitch black, so, with my little flashlight, I set up the four poles on the beach: three with sand flea bait and one with crab knuckles from fresh blue crab.
I cast out all four. After about ten minutes my north pole sings. With a big hit on, it bends in half. I can tell it’s a pompano. It’s taking line. Ya, Mon! I start to do my little dance, a couple of back up reggae moves, reeling it in. It’s a good one! As I slide it onto the beach, it’s slapping the sand hard. It’s one of the slab scouts that come first, with the herd just behind it.
As I’m baiting it up again, my south pole spins back and spikes straight up. When a pole stands straight up like that, it means the fish is swimming in. Ya, Mon! The sun is starting to rise, and all those weeks fishing and waiting were well worth the effort, as another pompano lands on the beach.
The sun pops up on the horizon with all kinds of beautiful colors and lights up the sky. This is definitely the place to be in Wilbur By the Sea. The water is the perfect 74°, exactly the temperature the pompano like to hang around in.
It’s finally starting to warm up this morning, with the sun going up. Just when you think things couldn’t get better, the red fish start to bite. Now, I’m not that long of a caster so it seems my mid shots are landing right where the red fish are hanging out and feeding. I’ve been getting them on crab knuckles and sand fleas. They bite both and most of them have been in the slot, which is 17 to 27 inches. I always look for fresh bait: live crabs, live sand fleas, live shrimp.
My friend Bobby O, newly arrived from a long drive from Chicago, came onto the beach. He tried to dig some sand fleas, but couldn’t get them, took out a rotten piece of half baked old fish gum, put it on his hook, and went to town. Ten minutes later, he reeled in a monster slab pompano, 21 3/4 inches to the tail (the V we measure to). He went home for a great meal.
So, you never know. It’s called fishing. With that thrown in, at the end of some great days, with some clear blue green water, nice cool warm breeze from the west, with the tunes of Toots and the Maytals in the background, me and these fish are definitely heading to the smoker.
