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Home » Pleasurable Vignettes
Catching Redfish in Mosquito Lagoon
By Robert Semerau
Each year, usually in late March, I head down to Orlando, Florida, to attend a trade show and hopefully make time to get in a little fishing. Last month was no exception and the fishing was both exciting and challenging.
I had scheduled some time on Tuesday morning of my trip to get out with a local guide, and owing to Orlando being centrally located between both of Florida's prolific coasts I had lots of options.
The problem was this: Which way to go? West, to the legendary tarpon-filled waters along this edge of the Gulf of Mexico? East, to Mosquito Lagoon and redfish the size of your arm tailing in shallow waters as clear as the Florida skies? Or stay put within the Orlando area?
I began my search on the internet some weeks before departing Southern California and found many great opportunities from which to choose. Within 10 miles of Orlando I could hook up with a number of guides to fish for local bass in the numerous lakes in the immediate area. The Ritz Carlton even had three-hour bass fishing tours on the golf course lake available at Grande Lakes near Disney World!
Ron Bull Adventures offered a fly out service that would deliver me to the secluded lake or slough that could best be counted on to deliver excellent fishing for the particular day in question. That seemed a little extreme for my "half-day escape" and one to keep in mind for next year.
I contacted Capt. Fred Kremer of Strictly Artificial Charters, an experienced coastal guide that specializes in fly fishing charters along the west coast of Florida around Tampa Bay. Capt. Fred sounded like a heck of a guy and what I was looking for, but he was booked up for the entire week.
Once done sifting through the volumes of data and contacting more than a dozen services I found Captain Jon Lulay, of 2 Castaway Redfish Charters, to be the most likely candidate to get me on the fish. And the decision to head to Mosquito Lagoon and fish for tailing redfish was made.
Just over an hour east of Orlando, Mosquito Lagoon lies beyond Titusville, north of the John F. Kennedy Space Center and is pretty much a straight shot across the 528 Bee Line Highway. In the pre-dawn, 4:30 AM, darkness the roads of this stretch of Florida begin to disappear into the swamps and stands of trees alongside the road. They say all manner of creature roams the blacktop looking for, or soon to become roadkill.
The trip, however, proved uneventful and Capt. Jon showed up right on time at our prearranged meeting spot alongside the Action Bait and Tackle shop in Titusville.
After exchanging pleasantries with the affable skipper I followed his truck, trailer and flatboat out across the spit of land between the Indian River and Mosquito Lagoon. There, we drove down a country road and to an area called the Biolab Launch Ramp; the name apparently the result of some earlier investment by the government to develop a better understanding of the ecology of the lagoon.
Captain Jon explained that today was exceptionally calm and clear as he slipped the 17-foot Scout into the shallow waters. "Yesterday the wind was blowing 20 knots already by 5:30 am, and we had a heck of a time seeing the fish," he said. The sun was rising beyond the rushes, past the glass smooth water, and I hoped this was a good sign.
Slowly motoring out of the tiny channel from the launch ramp to open water, Captain Jon explained how we would fish. "We'll run down to the far end of the lagoon, and then I'll pole us to where we see the fish 'tailing' in the water." He continued, "The water is only one to two feet deep there, and you can see the redfish feeding along the bottom as their tails break the surface."
The chill morning air blew against my face as we were running south, but we soon were watching fish feed some 50 yards off the bow, and the skipper shut down the 90-horse Yamaha outboard.
I had rigged the 8 wt. Redington fly rod provided by Captain Jon with my own G. Loomis Adventure 7 reel loaded with floating fly line and 150 yards of 20 pound test backing. To that I added a 12 pound test leader, about eight feet long, and a three foot tippet of eight-pound test fluorocarbon. Finishing the whole rig was a #10 A.C.'s Hors d' Oeuvres shrimp pattern in tan.
Captain Jon took to the poling platform and began the arduous task of moving the boat across the mirror-like water with stealth and yet with speed enough to gain surprise on the wary fish "tailing" up ahead. As we approached he offered that I should begin to set up my cast. Standing on the bow I could see the fish were just out of range and moving slowly ahead of the boat at about the same pace we were traveling.
Fly line lay limp on the deck, uncoiled from the reel as I waited for the word from on high. From the perch he held on the poling platform, some six feet above the deck, Captain Jon could see fish and their movements. "Eleven o'clock moving to 12!" he'd call, and then I would work up the cast to just a few feet shy of where the fish were feeding. "A bit further, the fish are just a bit further out," whispered the skipper encouragingly, perhaps even biting his tongue.
The next cast landed squarely amongst the school, and with an explosion of raw energy, the entire school disappeared into deeper water, leaving my fly drifting along the hard sand bottom and my heart sinking even deeper.
With gentle prodding Captain Jon explained the delicate nature of flats fishing for redfish in Mosquito Lagoon. "These fish are very sensitive, and they can feel the movement of the boat if it rocks while you cast," he offered. "You need to get some more distance and yet keep the boat still under your feet."
I knew he was right. It had to be my casting movements that were setting the fish off since as he poled the boat along I could not hear even the slightest sound or see even a ripple coming from behind the boat. The finesse which Captain Jon uses to move the boat up close to feeding fish is only second to his ability to see them tailing below the surface. Often, I was at a loss to see fish until we were either right upon them or they began to break the surface of the water with their tails.
The next cast landed ever so gently and a fish of some 35 pounds took the fly and began the signature run that distinguishes a redfish from your run-of-the-mill flats fish. The sheer strength of such a fish, born and bred in these shallows, wary and muscular to avoid predators and run down prey, has a way of driving home the reasons we fish. The turns the fish makes as the line screams from the reel; the steady pull and constant, strong pressure with little head-shake, feeds electricity up my arms and through my body to my fully alive brain.
After 20 minutes of burning excitement, and plenty of action working against this beautiful fish, the line slacked suddenly, and he was gone. Over 100 yards of line out in the water and nothing to do but retrieve it and move on.
Out of the west the wind picked up a notch,and Captain Jon asked if perhaps we might try another spot where there were "plenty of fish; smaller but more of them!" I agreed that sounded like a great idea after my arms had grown sore from such a long time fighting one fish.
The fishing was somewhat easier on the smaller, eight- to ten-pound redfish, and I got to actually land a few over the next hour or so. These smaller fish took a size 10 black bead-head wooly bugger, as well as the original tan shrimp pattern and came to the boat after just a few minutes of battle.
With the wind picking up and the fish holding down, things began to slow and, it was time to run back to the ramp and call it a day.
Next year the choice of where and with whom to fish will be even more difficult. I now know what it's like to get out and flats fish for the infamous bad boys, Florida redfish, with a guide who truly knows their name and their game. - Robert Semerau.
(Postscript: You can contact Captain Jon Lulay of 2 Castaway Redfish Charters by phone at 407-733-3223 or visit his web site at www.2castaway.com.)
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