Sometimes you just have a hunch…
From my perch atop a pile of boulders, I faced directly into a stiff northeast wind and its attendant waves. I stood with dubious footing as the swirling elements riled the air and water around me. There was seemingly no reason for me or anyone else to fish this particular spot at this particular time, but I had a hunch.
Several yards seaward from where I balanced among the loose stones, the shallow bottom sloped to a depth of about 8 feet. The submerged valley was being fed by a newly dropping tide, the wind and waves, working to oppose the falling water, stirred the seas over the basin into a strip of foaming turbulence. With tide pushing baitfish into the depression—and the churning water pinning them there—an ideal ambush situation was created for any nearby snook craving an easy meal.
“My instincts drew me to this boulder-capped point of land protruding from the river’s western bank.”
For weeks, the wind had blown steadily from the east and southeast. When a forceful northeast blow ensued, I anticipated a predatory activity. Consecutive days featuring gusts of up to 25 mph compelled me to abandon my usual bridge fishing to capitalize on the shifting atmospheric conditions. Mindful of the wind’s ability to influence the location of baitfish schools, my instincts drew me to this boulder-capped point of land protruding from the river’s western bank.
Few creatures in the diet of gamefish are wear chartreuse or anything remotely similar to the flamboyant shade of green. Any critter dressed in such gaudy fashion would be doomed immediately to the stomach of a predator. So, when my chartreuse jig entered the tempestuous waters of the drop-off, it was snapped up instantly by a 26-inch snook. Not long after releasing the fish, underwater visibility proved to be of no significance on this occasion. When I switched to a less noticeable variety of lure, the snook continued their assault and hit almost everything I threw at them for the next four nights.
“The fish were in an aggressive mood all the while—a product of the same natural forces that guided me to their location with such timeliness.”
Throughout the feed, I had the setting entirely to myself; the fish were in an aggressive mood all the while—a product of the same natural forces that guided me to their location with such timeliness. The most interesting part of the affair was that the feeding, in spite of its furor, existed for only a short period of the outgoing tide each night. The snook, most of which were in the high 20-inch range, abandoned their tactics when the wind shifted back to its more regular southeastern origin. As the tide progressed in its unremitting cycle, the frenzy of action concluded—to resume in another place on a different breath of wind and a different stage of the tide.
By John Saporito
John Saporito is a lifelong fisherman and student of the seas. Visit him online at www.GuerillaAngling.com