The Traditional Return

Early February is generally the deepest, darkest point of winter, so that's when Campeche pulls the hardest, and I've learned to anticipate it and book early!  This year, well, winter hadn't come yet, but sunny and 85 still has it's draw.  As does the greatest sport fish on the planet.  So off we went.

We hit it perfect this week.  7 days of light winds, good tides early on, warm temperatures, and abundant tarpon just offshore of the mangroves.  For a couple of the days we made the long 90-minute run to hit the area at the right time, the offshore grass flats were loaded with fish, sometimes acres of them!  The inshore creeks had fish when the water was moving, as did the lagoons close to Campeche.  The biggest ones got away this trip, but that's the way it works, usually.   I'll remember them. 

It has become familiar, expected, and sometimes even predictable as we cruise into a creek or flat and the first rollers appear.  "Everything's ok, I'm home now."  Its a comfortable familiarity, like walking down the ranch trail, or driving into one of the spring creeks. I can't imagine ever getting tired of it, or bored with it, or being less challenged to get it right.  These tarpon are still too far from home to become "regular fish," but it's kinda cool to recognize the sweet spots from one year to the next, and just get "that" feeling as we pole in that the most magnificant events in sport fishing are about to happen.  I still get weak knees, buck fever, and intense euphorea.

Some have attemped to describe it, TV has attempted to illustrate it and take you there, but its nothing seeing that roll, making that cast, seeing the Silver King turn and eat your fly, stripping that line for all your worth, and the eruption that always follows.   You have to be there.  I was there.  It happened.  Great week with another addict just crazy enough to spend 7 days on a boat with.  We scarily think alike at times.  Makes for a fun week.  We shall continue to return.

"Nine-Jump" Tarpon.  Had to be there.