Spring Time Water is Warming up!
Time to Head Offshore
- April 13, 2011
- 0 Comments
- By Story/Photos By Matt Badolato
As I sip my coffee and type this, the Winds of April are blowing steadily out my window. The seas are too rough to fish offshore, a bit too gusty to fish in the lagoon. The air temps are cool and comfortable each morning, we’re starting to get some life-giving rainfall and…Whoa! Please excuse me—this coffee is running right through me!
Ah that’s better. Anyway, before I left for my little “office” visit a moment ago, I was describing how great springtime is here for us—especially for us fish-people. The dolphin are going to start running soon, the seatrout are schooling on the flats and the cobia are already moving through.
Cobia. If I never hear that word again I will die a happy, fuzzy old man. But seriously, this March displayed a cobia run for the record books. Some old salts claimed it was one of the most insane migrations they’d ever seen. If you were at any beach between Sebastian and the Port during last month’s calm spell, you know what I’m talking about. Boats were peppering the horizon en masse in their search for cobia—and most of them were successful.
Combine a mass exodus of giant manta rays, the billions of juvenile menhaden schooling just outside the breakers, flat-calm seas and bright sunny skies and you’ve got a recipe for a blackened cobia salad. Even some kayakers and small jon boats were getting in on the action. Corey Smith and friends from Indian Harbor Beach nabbed a 40+ pounder out of their little aluminum boat. Kelsey Strickland and friends dragged their heavy fiberglass skiff down the dunes and battled a 40+ pounder of their own. You just know they were feeling the stoke.
My friends and I even got in on the action. Kevin Cucchiara, a chef at LongDoggers in Indialantic, John Fisher, an FWC biologist, and myself, an extraordinary fisherman and all around great guy, headed out of Port Canaveral one morning in March with cobia on our minds. We did not see a single fish until 2pm, and from then on it was madness. We put two small keepers in the boat using live shrimp while cruising down a weedline. There were baby tripletail, shrimp, crabs and jellyfish all bunched up around the weeds—a gourmet buffet for a big cobia.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a dark shape a ways away. I told John to turn the boat and off we went. I saw what I thought to be a 30-pound cobia, so I chucked my jig at it and he sucked it down.
Then he ran. And ran some more. He ran down to the bottom. And didn’t come up for two hours.
We could see the massive fish on the fishfinder during the entire fight. We didn’t know how big he really was until he came within gaffing range. And holy moly, he was a monster. John sunk the gaff into its shoulder and it took the two of us to heave the fish on board. We couldn’t believe how big it really was. Its head was over a foot wide.
Back at Port Canaveral, it weighed a tad over 70 pounds. People came out of the restaurants to see our fish. Some kid wanted to pet it. I said sure.
Now let me tell you what I really think about cobia.
I think they are incredible stupid fish, as with most prehistoric animals that are someone still populating the earth. They are just giant catfish. They eat crap off the bottom like crabs, clams, beer bottles. But sportfishermen glorify them because they’ll come to the surface and eat every once in awhile, giving us the impression that they are an actual gamefish just because they’ll lazily chase down prey every once in awhile. But I know their dirty secrets. Think about it. They will eat just about anything you throw at them, including jigs which look like somebody just tied a cockatoo onto a hook. Talk about a hard-headed fish! And personally, I don’t like a suck-up, and any fish that follows behind a manta ray’s but for most of its life just doesn’t earn my admiration.
In other news, the dolphin are already showing up off Brevard and expect it to get better through April. Look in 120-220 feet to start, then start looking deeper and burning more gas if you’ve really got to. Sometimes the fish will be hanging out between 500-700 feet, which is a far run for us, but sometimes it’s worth it. And while you’re out there, you can drop a line down to the bottom for some golden tilefish in 600-700 feet (an electric reel is the way to go, but you can hand-crank ‘em up if you’ve gotta).
Keep an eye on the seatrout bite in the lagoon, especially down in Melbourne Beach, Grant, Sebastian, up in the Banana River or anywhere really! The fish are starting to spawn and there will be plenty of mullet running through our lagoon. The topwater bite is my favorite, so try tossing a big plug in the morning or evening for some explosive fun (that you don’t have to pay too much for!). Release those trout, keep one or two for dinner if you want. Remember, those fish have been through a couple winters of Hell here in Central Florida, so give ‘em a break if you can!
Well, till next tide. Tight lines, tasty waves, calm seas and clear water.
Matt B
