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Snook Trip – The Arrival

When we got to the house, it was quiet. It didn’t look much like a house – three stories of brick and windows, buttressing right up to the water’s edge. We headed inside to meet the guys that had arrived while we were out on the water.

The first face I saw was Jeremy, the creator and organizer of the event. After shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries like ‘I was hoping you weren’t stupid enough to get caught out in that storm…’ we headed inside. And MAN! What a place.

You know when you were younger and walked into your grandmother’s house or maybe another older relative, and were warned to not touch or break or breathe hard on anything? This house was way too nice for a bunch of ribald fishermen, and that was before I went upstairs to see the massive showers. I kid you not dear reader, the bedroom in which I currently sit tapping away at the keys is the same size – perhaps a bit smaller – than the bathroom I used on the second floor. It had two showers. And the floor above that was a game room with a high balcony that served as a great observation deck…

Anyway. You get the point. All I needed was a dry, non-sandy spot to sleep on, and Jeremy gets us the Taj Mahal. For a great price, I might add. Kudos to you, sir.
So we walk out on the back deck and shake some more hands with guys I hadn’t had the pleasure to meet yet, and stand around talking about the fishing trips the days before and how pretty the water was. Pretty soon I get the itch to cast a line and I figure no one would mind if I walked away from the conversation to grab my 8wt to do a little snook prospecting under the dock connected to the house. I decided to slink a black tarpon bunny back in between the pilings as the sun goes down.

Not a bad view...

Tap… Thud! Suddenly, I’ve got an audience. Conversation stops and all eyes turn towards me, and for the moment, all my brain can yell is “Snook!” What a start this is, catching a snook right off the bat, and as the fish surges to the surface as snook will to head shake I can see that it’s…
A trout. A nice, solid speckled trout of around 18”, but no snook. Damn.
Hard to be disappointed with a nice fish like that… but I didn’t come down here to catch specks. Still, a fish like that seems to be a good omen, and the more skeptical non-fly rodders seem to gain a little respect for the fly method. This might turn out to be a great weekend after all, storms or no storms…

 

Thunderhead brooding...

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