We did a lot of on line research and armed ourselves with important LOCAL KNOWLEDGE so as to lessen the learning curve. So off past the land the mouse built we went in search of The Poor Man's Tarpon. We were to meet up with some old pals we haven't seen in some time who are old hats in this game.
So find the launch we did and John's Mac Daddy canoe provided the platform to get to the shading grounds. Only a mile or so away they were. A good thing as we had errrrr, motor issues so BAC to paddlin it was. Armed with more shad candy than I will ever use we found our sure as hell spot and started casting.
First fish was a crappie. Next a few of these fellows.
John had never caught a crappie before. Guess you Florida fellers call em specks. He was pleased to add it to his species list.
So cast away, and away, and away we did only hooking our canoemate a couple of times and finally the Holy Grail. The monster of the eastern seaboard. The andromidous animal bit and after a battle only equalled by a 15oz lady fish did we catch glimpse of the salmon of the south.
We joined about 1100 by our old pals, one of which ran out of beer way too damned early, and waded a shoreline casting away in search of more silver magnificence. Rewarded we were with a few more..
Slippery bastards they were.
We all ended up at a local eatery eating average food served by a lovely lady with above average breasts and drinking plenty of cold beer. Sorry, no pictures of the breasts or the beer.
Good to laugh it up with pals and then the 3 hour drive back past the mouse to home sweet home.
One note about the St Johns River. A beautiful meadow stream. Picturesque in it's own central Florida way. Especially if you enjoy the shake. The rattle. The hum. The drone. The Roar! Of A HUNDRED FUCKING AIRBOATS! They populate the place like mosquitos in Flamingo. So be warned. Peace and quiet are not part of the St Johns shaddin experience.
