by Leighton Ingram
“Two days before the New Moon, four days after” my father would say aloud to me. Looking high upward to the indigo morning sky, the moon had left its glow today and was falling towards the black waters of Charlotte Harbor. A lonesome boat ramp, the horizon was fading to a charcoal shade of color, a steady north wind blew softly chasing the falling tide. I thought of my fleece pullover at the warm house, sipping on the black coffee in a smoky haze of the two-stroke’s protest. Popping my collar up to cut the chill, the smell of her perfume tried to change my mind. Creeping out the channel, the earthy tobacco smell of the mangrove jungle reinforced my quest of what might be. The horizon was grey; opening up the throttle I crossed the bar and tucked towards the warmth of the bushes. The water was glassed off under the shadow of the green mangrove canopy. The big blue flew parallel to me. He squawked aloud breaking off my port side, he flew towards the faint pink brush strokes. Spooking mullet “stringing” down the reef.
fort mPoling the skiff up-tide through a twisted maze of button wood trees and mangroves, I followed the warmth of the black water. Mottled ducks silhouetted off the bow, they “chattered” in the wake of their whistling wing tips. A snook pop echoed from the bay to my south. The thrashing and popping became louder, there were multiple snook feeding in the scattered bays in less than a foot of water. I stepped out of the skiff, securing it to a thick mangrove root with a piece of dock line. Grasping a seven-weight loaded with a Jack Allen Popper, I watched a lone snook completely dominate a cove inside the bay eating anything that pushed water. The cast was long of the fish, he turned from the touch. First strip was hard, the “blurp” sound echoed within the bay. The snook came back, I followed up with two short strips “plop, plop”. Locked on the fly and charging, I watched its shoulders wake the surface, two more “plop, plops”. The fish crushed the Allen fly strip setting and coming tight, the snook reared up out of the water. The fish had two great runs and headed for the tide. Using the whole rod the snook gave in and turned towards the rod tip. Released and healthy I listened to the fish feeding as I poled out with the last of the tide.
Leighton Ingram is a true sportsman and full-time captain. Specializing in skinny water fly fishing and light tackle in the Charlotte Harbor estuary. A native Floridian, he is knowledgeable about Florida’s wildlife and history. His unique trips are an exciting, up close way to experience the charms of an old Florida landscape. Contact him at leighton@truefloridaexpeditions.com or (239) 776-2904.