I shake my head a bit hoping it'll speed up the process of waking up and fire up the radar on my trusty hand held super power also known as an iphone. Hmmmm, that line of storms doesn't look very friendly. We were heading to a spot south of the skyway, the infamous SOTE where fishermen are real men and the women are beautiful, so after a bit of back and forth we decided we were awake so lets go for a couple hours.
We meet at the launch at fishermen's time - O dark 30 - and unload quickly. Knowing that time will be limited we hustled. It was dark, a touch windy and the temps were almost jacket weather as we headed to 'the spot'. That one magical place in a long line of mangroves where epic tales are made and, dare I say, legends are born.
The mullet were everywhere and it was almost too beautiful out to fish as the sun rose.
Heywood caught a trout in the mix and I caught a sennet, that little barracuda imposter.
We ran into a few other kayak fishermen out there who had launched well after we did (ahem...) so we had to thread a path through them as we moved on to a second 'the spot' to try and find a redfish that I'd promised for dinner.
As we arrived, the clouds over our left shoulder were getting ominous. Scratch that, they were ominous. We decided that we'd wimp out and head for the launch instead of getting pounded. The intelligent decision of a couple middle aged guys who've been through it before and realize now that it is foolhardy and somewhat stupid to be out on the water when that stuff hits. Besides, before the front the wind was at our back which would speedily get us back.
Then the redfish hit my topwater. It actually looked like 2 redfish fighting for ownership of that Spook. One won the battle only to lose the ensuing battle. It became what I affectionately call "dinner".
By now the timing of our intelligent decision had long passed. The front came bringing howling winds and horizontal rain. Lovely stuff in a kayak. As I scrambled to put on my Frogg Togg jacket I chuckled out of smugness that I'd brought a rain jacket and Heywood hadn't. That'll teach him, I muttered loud enough for him to hear.
We first tried hiding behind a mangrove island. While out of the wind, we were not out of the downpour. I was fine with that until I realized that my rain jacket had evolved into a jacket in the time it had spent behind my truck seat and tucked in my kayak milk crate. No more Frogg in my Frogg Toggs. Okay, we're getting soaked. This sucks. Screw the wind, let's paddle.
As we headed back in the wind clocked around, of course. Now it, and the white caps, are directly on our beam as we crossed the open bay. Heywood in his new speedy Hurricane took off. Don't let it fool you. It may be slow yellow on top but the bottom is slick fast white. I, in my ultra comfortable in weather not like this Native Ultimate, had to plod across the bay as the boat got heavier and heavier from water splashing over the side. Barnacle learned once again that there is no place to hide from weather in that kayak. Heywood arrived at the launch well before I did but he did not have 15 gallons of souvenir water in his boat with him. While I felt fortunate to be gifted with such a nice souvenir, I pumped it out to leave it for the next guy. I'm just that kind of guy.
Goodbyes at the launch when it's pouring rain usually last about 4 seconds. This time they lasted about 3 seconds. I'm guessing Heywood also had the heat on as he drove home.
3 hours, a bunch of fish, good exercise, a beautiful sunrise, a strong Florida storm front, not having to wash anything down and another 'made it home alive' story all followed by a nice afternoon nap. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.
Photos stolen by me from Heywood. With self assumed impunity.
