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SNOOK ON THE MANGROVE EDGES
Add this to your Saltwater “MUST EXPERIENCE” list:
* It was a beautiful tropical evening and the sun was just
getting ready to disappear below the horizon on the
third day of this early December Belize trip aboard
the mothership Meca. We were poling along a glassy,
sheltered mangrove edge and I was casting my fly as
close as possible to the branches (and far too
often, into the mangroves). Snook had been the
primary focus of this trip as it occurred during
their spawning period and the numbers of fish in
many mangrove areas were stronger than any other
time of the year. On this particular cast, the fly
dropped right on the edge and as I gave it a strip,
a large snook darted out and grabbed it. I struck
the fish hard, stunning him momentarily and,
capitalizing on the momentum of his aggressive
charge, pulled him away from the tangled root system
which could have ended the battle quickly. My
experienced guide immediately began moving the skiff
away from the shoreline. This all happened in a
heart beat and the fish was momentarily disoriented
and began swimming into open water, away from the
security of the mangroves. For a few minutes, we
were safe as the fish appeared to wonder aimlessly.
The guide was the first to note a change of demeanor
and yelled, “get ready, he’s going home.” Go’in
home he was and in a hurry – the fish had turned,
and realizing he needed to find the security of the
mangroves, had started a full out charge for the
roots. Quickly, I took up the slack line and put a
few wraps around my gloved hand. Experience had
taught me that the moment of truth was coming – if
he gained the sanctuary of the mangrove roots, he
was free. I braced myself as the line tightened and
my 9 wt rod bent to the pressure. The next few
minutes were as intense as it gets. He had regained
the brink and was only a yard from freedom. He
repeatedly lunged for that yard, sometimes taking to
the air with powerful head shakes, sending sunset
enhanced spray in all directions. I held tight
with all the strength I could muster, not giving an
inch and hopping my five-foot, 40 pound leader
section would hold and the rod didn’t shatter. If
you have fly fished for stripers, this struggle
compared to trying to hold a fresh, powerful 10
pound striper in one place when he had other designs
– both fish have a similar “bulldog” mentality.
After what seemed like ten minutes, but was probably
only two or three, he relented and allowed me to
drag him from the edge. A few more weakened
charges were all he had left before we put him on
the scale, took the requisite photos, revived him,
and watched him disappear under the overhanging
branches. A shade under ten pounds was the weight
and fifty pounds of thrills!! This was a special
fish for more reasons than one – he completed my
grand slam for the day adding some treasured
memories to my salt water fly fishing collection.
This was the second largest snook we took for the
week – a 12 pounder was taken on the open flats and
didn’t supply the drama of the “mangrove mauler.”
The sensation of stalking a medium to large permit or
watching a tarpon cartwheel across the surface is
well known, but a good-sized snook on the edge of
the roots provides a seldom recognized experience
that is very special.
TRIP REPORT
Fly Fishing Adventures
888-347-4896
flyfish@napanet.net
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