In a few weeks I’m going to arrive early into Ft. Lauderdale airport, I’m going to meet Adrienne Comeau for the first time and we are going to pick up a rental car and drive to Miami to meet Martin Carranza. From there we are going to head out on the waters of Biscayne Bay.
I’m already a little bit puckered, it has to be said.
Biscayne Bay is the land of giants. The bones there, as I understand it, are on the large side of above average and if I’m ever to catch a 10 pound fish, this day represents one of my best shots.
I’ve cast at 10 pound fish a few times. I’ve cast at a few in Hawaii, with no luck. I’ve sent casts downrange a couple of times at big fish in Grand Bahama. I cast at one in Cuba that our guide thought was a shark at first. I’ve put nothing on the board when it comes to double digit fish. If this comes as a surprise to you, I’d just remind you, I’m no expert.
I’m hoping I won’t crack under pressure if we see a really big bone. I’m hoping if Adrienne is on the bow when we see a monster I restrain myself from pushing her into the water and I don’t resent her too much if she catches the damn thing.
I’m hoping I can make the cast and that the big piece of meat on the other end (1/0 bonefish fly?) doesn’t spook the fish.
Dear god I better not trout set if I’m lucky enough to get an eat. How bad would that suck to travel a couple thousand miles, find the fish, make the cast, make the presentation, get the grab and the trout set?!
I hope, if that happens, I learn to forgive myself.
Don’t trout set. Don’t trout set. Don’t trout set.