Living near the water has its advantages, stress relief being the foremost. Finding myself in a less than pleasant mood, I decided to go sling a line and try to clear my mind. I had looked at the tides the day before and knew I would be fishing the incoming flood tide. My gear was all packed from an unsuccessful angling expedition the previous night and I was ready to go. A friend and I had waded out in front of Pitt St. Bridge looking for tailing reds on the flood tide, but had arrived about an hour too late. By the time we got wet, we were up to our chest in a six-plus foot flood tide. The only thing biting that night was the no-see-em’s. This time, I arrived just in time.
Flood tide red fishing can be one of the most exhilarating experiences an angler can have. Redfish invade shallow flooded flats like a fleet of miniature submarines on a dinner mission. Their tails, like victory flags, fly just above the surface as they suck up invertebrates and baitfish. To me, they look more like bulls eyes. Actually seeing your fish before you cast borders along the realm of hunting and that’s just what I was doing as I walked down the Sullivan’s Island connector yesterday.
I had lost a dinner-sized redfish within a minute of stepping foot in the water after my leader popped about 10 seconds into the battle. I switched rods to one with some heavier line and resumed the hunt. As I walked, I noticed a small patch of vegetation that was growing out of a small hummock that rose about a foot out of the water and I could see a tailing red in between it and the road. A matt of floating reeds and debris blanketed the water, dotted sporadically with little patches of open areas that were no bigger than a washtub. About 30 feet away I could see a tail peeking out above the matt of reeds working towards an open spot and I immediately casted into the laundry basket sized opening. “Three points!” I thought to myself as my lure slowly sank to the bottom.
I gave my rod tip just a slight jerk and BAMM! He about knocked the rod out of my hand! My reel screamed as the rowdy red bled line from my Stradic and I gritted my teeth as I awaited my line to snap again. The line held, and I immediately started walking and reeling. I was knee deep in the water trying to keep my line taught with one hand and clearing the reeds out of my way with the other. I could hear cars honking as they passed and I’m sure I must have looked like a crazy man sloshing through the water, chasing after this massive redfish. Every time I thought he was ready to be landed, he would see me coming, and torpedo away from me again. This went on for about five minutes, and by then traffic had actually stopped. After the fantastic red finally succumbed to my will, I reached in and scooped up the amazing organism. I held the beautiful redfish above my head as I made my way towards the first stopped vehicle. A couple of locals had seen the ensuing battle and were stopped on the side of the road, watching the action. “No one would ever believe you!” is the first thing they said as I walked up to the car, trophy in hand. “No kidding!” I said as I held the magnificent red like it was my first-born. They happily agreed to take my photo and with out them, this would be just another fish story. After the impromptu photo shoot, I gently placed the beautiful fish back into the water and thanked him for letting me have my picture taken with him.
Hope to see ya next tide,
Chad McPeters
Coastal Angler Magazine
Photos courtesy Mrs. Cindy Borders
