What Would You Do to Catch a Tarpon?

Even though we were there at prime time and under good conditions, we knew that the tarpon fishing was going to be tough during our recent trip to Islamorada. Our friends the Herlitzkes had been there the week before, and while they reported that plenty of other species came out to play, they were adamant that the “silver #$%!@” had tortured them. Our guide Mark Cockerham, one of the legends of the region and the holder of a number of world records, likewise reported that they were being finicky. Nevertheless, with three days to fish we had time to experiment a little bit.

Mark suggested that we spend the first day around the Keys’ many bridges, where some of the biggest fish and the biggest congregations tend to hold this time of year. Indeed, we saw many of them there. We could idle down the bridges’ shade lines and see dozens of tarpon through our polarized glasses and with his side-imaging sonar. Unfortunately the bastards didn’t want to bite. Fortunately, plenty of other fish did, and we were reasonably entertained with a steady stream of sharks. Of course I wanted a tarpon, but I wanted Hanna to have first shot, so I encouraged her to grab the rod out of the holder any time one got pulled down.

Early in the afternoon a rod tip pulled down slowly and steadily. The fish didn’t jump like most tarpon do, so we all assumed that it was another big shark. I encouraged Hanna to take the rod, but she refused, so I grabbed it. As soon as I leaned into it, a triple-digit tarpon went skyward. I was both shocked and exhilarated. Unfortunately, the tarpon was less thrilled than I was, and started to pull against the drag as if there was no resistance. I’m not sure how much line he actually took, but he was to the bridge and beyond it in a matter of seconds. Most notably, he went right through one of the concrete arches that sat beneath it.

These arches had a gap of about six feet, which would have been too narrow for the boat even without a cross member, but even at low tide that horizontal slab was barely out of the water. We were halfway through the tide, which was higher than normal due to a “Super Moon,” and the bottom of the concrete sat exactly at water level. 

The captain got the boat over to the piling and decided that our only hope of landing the fish was to tie a lifejacket to the rod and reel and feel it through the gap. He said that if we wanted to make it happen I’d have to swim it down and through.

I didn’t consider sharks.

I didn’t think about getting cut by barnacles.

I didn’t worry that some odd tide would keep me underwater.

I just wanted the damn fish.

Hanna reminded me to take off my hat and glasses and I hopped right in, grabbed the still-taut rod, and swam it underneath. When I came back up Mark grabbed it from me and I hoped against hope that the fish was still there. It was not. With his assistance I got back in the boat, wet and defeated.

Hanna immediately expressed wonderment that I’d gotten in the water so quickly. I wondered, “How could you not?” After all, did you see the size of that fish?

Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I know one hundred percent: I’d do it all again, except I’d be quicker to get in.

Of course, I’ve had good mentors on this front. On the first full day of our first trip to Brazil in 2011, I hooked a decent-but-not-huge fish on a Kermett Adams topwater. The fish stripped drag, dove down and got me heavily tangled in some sort of brush or stump. I could feel that he was still there, but couldn’t budge him. Our guide Bashim wasted no time following my braided line down to the stickup, and he came back up holding both my chopper and my peacock. Forget about sharks and barnacles, those waters were filled with caiman and big ass snakes.

The guides at El Salto are known for going that extra mile the same way. You may have seen footage of Martin, one of the longtime guides, going deep down with a snorkeling mask to free a giant for TV host Joe Thomas. On our second trip to the lake, in May of 2013, our guide did the same for my friend Terry Conroy (without the mask).

I’m not encouraging anyone to take risks with their life, health or safety, but fishing – and big fish in particular – are pretty damn important, and I’m not sure that I fully trust someone who won’t take the plunge for a chance at a trophy.

[Word of Caution: Remember to leave all valuables on the boat, including phones, wallets, and glasses. Hanna reminded me about the glasses, and I put them on a cooler before jumping in, but we both forgot about the wedding ring. When I emerged from the drink, it was gone. Fortunately, I stopped wearing my “real” wedding ring several years ago and we replaced it with a silicon band. They cost something like ten bucks for a pack of five, so the loss – in terms of both sentimental and monetary value – was minimal].