Early Winter Snookin' - December 2010

The snook is a fish that has vexed me for quite some time. I have tried to catch them in the past in all ways possible. I've been with others when they caught them and I didn't come away with more than a sniff. It was a fish, I had heard, that feeds sporadically, is super picky, and that you're lucky to catch once you finally break the seal and hook one. They live in rough places: mangroves, docks, places with swift current and plenty of line cutting structure. Even their bodies destroy tackle. They have gill plates like razors, and even the little ones are strong enough to get back in the structure from which you pulled them. So, of course, when a buddy asked me to go on a snook trip I was game. And I was going to do it on fly.

I had scoured the internet for info, looked up fly patterns, and read as much as I could about catching them. I was convinced this was going to be it. And it was.

I travelled south from Jacksonville along Florida's east coast in December in the midst of an incoming cold front with my brand new 9 weight rig and a box full of tiny flies. We were going to fish the docklights, and I was assured of success. I didn't know what I was getting into, but I thought I was ready.

The first snook I caught was on a DOA shrimp, being that I wasn't completely ready to jump in completely with the fly rod, but once I got the monkey off my back with that first snook, I put the spinning rod away and kept the fly rod out for the rest of the trip.

Snook are nocturnal feeders; they love to congregate under bright docklights because of the proliferation of small baitfish they attract.

The first time you see fish busting in the shadows of a lighted dock, and the shrimp and small bait running for their lives, you know its a sight you won't soon forget. The key though, is to present your bait as naturally as possible. Baitfish do not have the strength to swim against the current that gamefish do, so consequently, the snook know they have an easy meal that the current brings to them. A fly, or any type of lure for that matter, that moves against the current will be ignored. You may get a follow, or even a short strike, but the fish know its odd. The best way to catch any fish in this situation is to fish your fly with the current, with as much of a drag free drift as possible, much like trout fishing in freshwater. Anyway, once I figured this out it was game on.

The trip went great, and we came away with more than enough snook, considering the quickly dropping water temps. We caught it right before the bottom dropped out. Reports after our trip stated the fish were lethargic, and uninterested in eating. I finally accomplished something that I had failed to do in the past. Snook on the fly...

Fat Snook

Lookdown Jack (Fly Thief)

Biggest fish of the trip - 26"

Tarpon Snook

Introduction

Welcome. I’m Ryan and I hope to add to the collection of informative and entertaining media available to sportsmen on the Internet. Let me begin by introducing myself. I was born and have been raised in northeast Florida, am a proud graduate of the University of Florida, and have a passion for the outdoors. I am an avid bow hunter, fly fisherman, fly tier, and wildlife enthusiast. It does not matter where I am, I will most likely have a fly rod, shotgun, or bow nearby. I hope to share some of the knowledge I've gained through years of personal trial and error and possibly provide a new perspective on the outdoors. I am always looking for new challenges, whether it’s in the woods or on the water. One of my most cherished activities is chasing my local redfish on the fly.

This has become such a fulfilling journey for me. I have not had much guidance in fly fishing, as I was not raised by a fly fisherman, but those helpful individuals that always seem to come into your life when one has a driving ambition for anything have helped me along my way. I hope to do the same, and give back what has so graciously been given to me. A pursuit is so much sweeter when success is achieved through personal struggle, and one always has the ability to grow and learn new things, even when they think they are at the top of their game (which I am not, I still have a lot to learn).

In my opinion, a fly fisherman has not fully taken on the sport until they come to the realization that in order to get to the next level, they must begin a journey in fly tying. This has been a most rewarding by-product of my addiction to the sport. Countless evenings have been spent in front of the vise, looking at a pile of materials, scouring the Internet, and coming up with creations that will be thrown at fish in the hopes of triggering their feeding response. Often times, flies come off the vise that catch nothing, ride incorrectly in the water, fall apart, and spook fish, among other things, but it is a constant learning process. Through fly tying, one begins to visualize what the fish sees, and although no water is present, one slowly becomes sensitive to the intricacies of the materials, colors, and actions that make a fish want to eat. Couple these observations with on the water experiences, and the pieces of the puzzle begin to come together. It has gone so far that now, instead of discarding deer hair, duck feathers, road kill (fresh, and only when it’s cold, so far) that come across my path, I now give anything of this sort a thorough once over and debate its virtues as a fly tying material with myself. Then, once a fisherman has constructed a fly, put himself in position on a feeding fish, and gotten the bite, their whole world changes. Now they have done it. They have fooled a fish on its own turf with something they created. No feeling is greater.

I look forward to sharing my experiences, both on the water, and generally in the outdoors.