Interception Lessons

South-west Florida has a reputation for producing very large tarpon. During June, July and August they average between 70 and 120 pounds, with some very old fish that push the scales up towards the 170-pound mark. When they first slide over the flats along this coastline, they have encountered very little angling pressure during their migration north from the Florida Keys.

Just like tarpon in the Keys, they swim the flats as single fish, in pairs or in strings of multiple fish. A single large female often attracts a following of smaller males as they gather into pre-spawning groups leading up to the full moon. The rivers and estuaries along this coastline provide favourable conditions for schools of baitfish, and a sanctuary for juvenile tarpon to spend the first years of their life before maturing and moving out to sea to join the annual migration.

After two tarpon trips with my good friend and keen photographer Simon-Peter Hedditch, I returned to Australia with a fresh outlook on how I approach so many different species closer to home.

FIND A GOOD GUIDE

Tarpon pass through the coastal sandbars and weedy flats with the rise and fall of the tides. Finding and mapping out their ever-changing paths takes a lifetime on the water. When tropical storms limit sight fishing at this time of year, experience and local knowledge really make the difference.

Logistics and a lack of know-how made a DIY tarpon trip impractical, so finding a good guide was essential. I really enjoy spending time with any guide who knows a fishery well and has all the qualities of a great teacher. To me, engaging a guide is like enrolling in a new subject in college — at the end of it, you really want to come away thinking you’ve learnt something new.

My search ended when Micah Adams, who had just finished filming a tarpon segment in south-west Florida for ‘Adventure Angler’, recommended Captain Gjuro Bruer. I soon discovered that Gjuro is highly respected in the industry and will go that extra mile to find fish for his clients and friends. His knowledge of the region is second to none, having pioneered new areas along this coastline to find both swimming and ‘laid up’ tarpon.

MATCH YOUR TACKLE TO THE FISH

At first, standing on the bow of a skiff and seeing a string of very big dark shapes swimming towards me was like sight-fishing to multiple 100-pound trout. But the similarities stop the moment they eat your fly. The hook-up and fight is nothing short of explosive.

With catch-and-release in mind, rods in the 10 to 12 weight class are matched with large-diameter fly reels with heavy drags, that can recover line quickly to break the fiery spirit of these fish. Something I did find surprising was the need to cast a 12-weight floating line with the same degree of accuracy and control as you would on any trout stream or tropical mountain river chasing sooties and jungle perch.

Like barramundi, large tarpon have abrasive mouths that make short work of light tippets. We used 60 to 70 lb fluorocarbon shock tippets and were often left wondering if it was worth going even heavier, and risking fewer bites, after getting chewed through by some very big fish. With the health of the fish in mind, leaders were kept up there as well, with 30 or 40 lb used to subdue them in the shortest time possible, without breaking or straightening too many hooks.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

Tarpon have some very specific rules that you must follow before they will even entertain the idea of eating your fly. In particular, they demand a perfect presentation, insisting that your small 3-inch fly is intercepted while moving within a one-metre zone ahead of the fish. Any fly that swims outside this zone is just not worth the effort in deviating from their chosen swim path.

Back home in Australia, a number of highly regarded species require similar precision. Barramundi are a classic example, being more likely to eat a fly that is viewed as easy prey, where they can slide up and suck it in without exerting too much energy. Likewise, bottom feeders including blue bastards (slate bream), black bream, bonefish and permit require a well-timed interception within a small zone ahead of the feeding fish.

Interestingly, we found that pausing during the retrieve was a sure way of making tarpon lose interest in a fly. Even that microsecond of a pause induced by a long slow single-hand retrieve was enough to put them off. The most effective way to maintain constant movement was to slowly swing the rod tip during the retrieve, or, if we had time, to tuck the rod under the arm and use a double handed retrieve.

Simon was the first to adopt this double-handed approach after having multiple fish fall away from his fly using a single-handed retrieve. His conversion rate took a sudden step for the better with this pulsating continuous retrieve, so I quickly followed his lead.

The double-handed retrieve also took out the temptation to introduce a trout strike, which would usually end with the tarpon throwing the hook. With both hands on the line you have no choice but to keep stripping until you come up tight. This is a big advantage as it allows fast multiple strip-strikes to first pin the hook into that hard bony mouth, and then hold on tight until the weight of the fleeing fish firmly sinks the hook in.

Eliminating pauses in retrieves and using multiple strip-strikes are approaches I will be trying more often back home, particularly on those fish that inhale and spit a fly or continually nip at the tail.

Like so many of our own species, tarpon prefer to see the fly as a fleeing prey. In nature, small baitfish don’t attack or chase big predatory fish, so, not surprisingly, stripping a fly into a tarpon’s face will spook it. This is commonly referred to as “the fly biting the fish.”

The skiff was always positioned so as to intercept tarpon head-on, allowing the fly to be stripped into their path while at the same time still moving away from them. With the tarpon closing in on the fly, the speed of the retrieve can be adjusted to keep the fly within easy reach of that big mouth, until it hopefully vanishes in a flash of silver.

TEAMWORK

A typical tarpon day on the flats usually starts around 7 a.m., well before there is enough light to see into the water. At this time you are looking for waking or rolling fish as they move onto the flats. One memorable morning the water suddenly erupted 400 feet out, as a string of tarpon aborted an attempt to cut through a depression in the sand bar that was still too shallow for them to cross.

Anticipation began to build as my guide anchored the skiff in a position to intercept them. As predicted they made a beeline straight to the skiff, leaving huge wakes in their trail.

From the poling platform Gjuro called their position on the clock — 12 o’clock is always fixed at the bow of the boat, followed by the length of the cast.

Committed to the cast, I led the wake by 25 feet. At this stage it was impossible to see my fly, so all we had to go by was the end of the fly line plus 10 feet of submerged leader. I had a mental picture of my small black fur fly, wiggling and pulsing its way across the flat as I stripped it into the path of the approaching fish.

Nothing happened as the wake passed the fly, but I continued to retrieve at the same pace hoping one of the fish might still be tailing my fly. Half way back to the skiff, the line snapped tight in my hand as the water erupted in front of me.

The battle is both mental and physical. You really need to fight them hard from the moment you get them on the reel, in an attempt to break their spirit. If you give these fish any inclination that you are weakening by giving too much line, they will dig deep, recharge their body and drag the fight out until something or someone breaks. After a few giant tarpon, you know you can tackle anything on fly back home.

SEEING THE LIGHT

Mastering the timing of the cast took me a little longer than I would have liked. The sheer size of the fish made them appear to be swimming more slowly than they actually were. So, at the start, judging the length and timing of the cast was a work in progress.

I soon realised that just because I was capable of pulling off a 100-foot cast didn’t mean it was the best thing to do. It was far better to wait for them to come within a 50- or 60-foot cast, and to resist the temptation to fire out that long inaccurate wild card. Not only was this short cast more likely to hit the mark, it also allowed me to see the fly in relation to the fish, making it a lot easier to slow down or speed up the fly to have it swimming just in front of the tarpon’s face. This sort of control over the fly can often provoke an impulsive bite. Tuna and Australian salmon (kahawai) swimming down the waves off-shore, or on the flats, provide parallels back home.

The importance of timing the cast is a fundamental element in fly fishing, and something not new to me. But how easy it is to forget such things when your heart is pounding, and the fish of your dreams is going to do all it can to bring you to your knees in utter disbelief at how many ways there are to screw things up.

POLING SKIFF ADVANTAGE

Poling skiffs are purpose-built with manoeuvrability and shallow water sight fishing in mind. Standout advantages of using a pole over an electric outboard include the ability to quietly push through almost impenetrable weeds, and to move over water that is just too shallow for any outboard prop to get any kind of traction without sounding like a kitchen blender. The pole allows the skiff to be instantly held in one position without a sound. The high poling platform, positioned over the outboard, also allows the operator to see variations in the depth of water and to spot fish from a long way off.

It took a while before skiff fishing became second nature to me. You have to learn to work the clock and remember that someone is always blocking your back-cast at 6 o’clock. But when it all comes together the sense of accomplishment is great, knowing that you’ve done everything right to land such a tough fish for yourself and for your guide who has helped you every step of the way.

Back in Australia, saltwater guide Dave Bradley has successfully adopted the use of these poling skiffs and knows first hand what it’s like to tangle with North Atlantic tarpon. Poling skiffs are not limited to the saltwater flats either: I have poled my own boat through thick water lilies and over very shallow weed beds in the clear tropical impoundments of Queensland to cast a fly to barramundi seen tailing, resting or hunting the shallows beyond the reach of any electric outboard.

Barramundi may lack the glamour, but they still suck in a fly with the same intensity and ferocity as any tarpon, and put on an aerial display that will have you bowing to them, just like these silver kings.