My experience with tarpon is still “light,” but since when have I let that stop me?
- You make me stupid. When I see a tarpon I instantly lose half my IQ. I do stupid things. I forget the things I know about what I need to do. I flail. I fail. I am constantly humbled.
- Distance and Cost. There was once a bonefish caught in the SF Bay (I’m not kidding), but there has never been a tarpon in the Bay (although there is one at the California Academy of Sciences). Alas, you are soooo far away and it costs a lot to get there and do that.
- The redneck cult of destruction. Boca Grande and the Hell’s Divers… ugh. There just seem to be a lot of d-bags out there who want nothing more than to get that picture with a dead, dying or profoundly mishandled tarpon.
- I don’t know enough. That’s right, I hate tarpon a bit because they make me insecure. I fear what I don’t understand. Should I throw a 10 wt.? 11? 12? Floating line? Clear tip? Should I throw a 1/0 or a 3/0?
- Your damn hard mouth. When you eat a fly like that it should stick. I find your boney, hard mouth an insult to the sport of fly fishing. When I stick you well and you jump and then just spit the fly back at me… well… I find that disrespectful of me and what I’m trying to accomplish. All I’m saying, tarpon, is you could stand to be a little less selfish with the spitting of the hooks and your general propensity for coming unbuttoned. Good day sir. I said good day!