The game was going to be fly fishing for tarpon at night under the bridges around Miami. I’d fished with Dave before and knew that he would be holding a bridge leg while I stood beside him on the bow of his flats skiff at the ready with a 10-weight rod and a sink tip line. The fly would be white, small, only 2 ½ inches, and tied to a 60 lb. floro bite tippet. The lights on the bridge above would cast a shadow line on the water a few feet in front of us and in this shadow the tarpon would cruise looking for shrimp swept along on the surface. Seeing them out in the light the tarpon would track on them and inhale them as the strong current swept them into the shadow.
Fishing the new or full moon tide like we were when the current is the strongest and fishing is best Dave said that he would “jump” 8-10 tarpon on a normal night. We were both pumped up and ready.
The first stop was the McAurther bridge headed out to Miami Beach. I was ready as we approached, as often the tarpon are right there when you pull up. Only this time they weren’t there yet. We watched for nearly an hour without seeing a fish or hearing the telltale sound of tarpon feeding to our right or left. Dave moved us to the other end of the bridge and we set up again, still no fish. We went back to where we started and began seeing clumps of weeds washing past, a good sign although we couldn’t see any shrimp hanging on them and that was a worry. Maybe they would run late in the falling tide.
Some time after midnight we left that bridge and went to one closer to Key Biscayne. The current was really ripping here and it was tough for Dave to hold on and that was good, he said. Now and then we’d hear a tarpon take a shrimp with that unmistakable sound of something big like a bowling ball being dropped in the water. Dave looked left and I watched right and neither of us saw fish.
Being a guide I could hear the pressure in Dave’s voice as he tried to will some fish and I know how guides feel, how they bleed inside when the fishing is bad. Dave was bleeding and both of us could see that the shrimp that bring the tarpon to the surface to feed just were not there.
About 2:30 in the morning the tide was slowing and the occasional sound of feeding tarpon stopped we wrapped it up. It just didn’t happen.
So how do you feel when you get skunked? For me I felt fine. Having guided for thirty years myself I know that fishermen who measure their fun by the number and size of the fish they catch are going to be unhappy now and then, but those who enjoy the experience, the trying, always win.
I appreciated the spectacle of Miami at night with tall building all lit up. I was in awe of the huge yachts tied up in the Miami marina. And there was the immense size of cranes that load and unload ships. And there were these birds that sat on pilings watching as intently as we were for shrimp and the good company of a guide working his tail off. I had a real good time.
