Yesterday Joe and I left our respective jobs at about 5:30 and scooted up to DependaBay, his big skiff (a 21-footer with a 225 Yami that I affectionately call “The Teleporter”, given its ability to hurl us across bays at light speed) in tow. Radar showed storm activity to the east heading southwest across the state, and it looked like the nasty stuff would pass us right by. There was a purple cloud on the far side of the bay when we arrived, but it was gliding to the south, as expected.
That was good news, since we hadn’t fished for some time, and things seemed ideal: the water was clear with just a hint of murkiness, a slight breeze was creating the slight chop that’s perfect for plug-fishing, and bait fish — primarily finger mullet — were everywhere, showering and skipping about the flats, with big boils around them indicating feeding redfish, snook and trout. Daddy likey. Joe flicked a cast or two as we rolled up onto a favorite flat, and I brought a fat sea trout to the boat. Remember the big cloud? It had friends. And together, they decided to reverse course, drift westward and whip our ass. They boiled and churned and mushroomed out, and rain fell out of a cloud in so much volume it resembled the thick velvet drapes used in movie theaters. Time to go. The rain was accompanied by explosive lightning, which added a degree of urgency to the matter. Joe got us off the flat and we hustled to the dock. We tried to wait it out in the truck — watching other boats come flying up to the dock — but it was a lost cause, so home it was, muttering big boy words as we went. Not much of a fishing report due to Big Momma Nature. She has a tendency to flex her muscles this time of year.