Angler Stories: Jimmy

Luck doesn’t exist. Luck is the crossroads of preparation and opportunity. Let me tell you, Jimmy was prepared.

  Back in January, I fielded a call from Jimmy. I can tell his passion for the game just from our conversation, I was eager to fish with him before he even booked. We booked and kept in touch all month before the trip. All I can do is pray for good weather in an unpredictable late winter. Fingers crossed.

Day One: February 21, rolled up to the dock and there was Jimmy, traveling light and ready to fish. We shook hands and pushed off, we had light conversation through the no wake zone. I could tell he was fired up, there was no where else in the world he wanted to be, I felt the same.

       Pass Marker 42 and headed south east to the fishing grounds. The weather was pleasant but the wind was buzzing out of the south east, it was a grind of a day. We sight fished, dredged, cast, cast, cast.. Finally, we are tight, Jimmy is skilled, no trout set, good angle, he’s doing his job. Nice trout close to 20”. Quick picture and release, I’ll never forget his stoke. “Yes, yes I did it!” With an excited quiver in his voice. The rest of the day was slow, and headed back to town in less than desirable conditions. Heavy wind against tide, I knew I liked Jimmy when he enjoyed that rough ride like I did. There’s something about navigating in bad conditions that’s gets me going, it did for him too.

     I had a hard time sleeping that night, we worked so hard for one fish. I felt unfulfilled and was worried Jimmy felt the same. I wanted Jimmy to get his redfish. Late winter is tough, I know that but needed success for arguably the hardest working angler to ever step on my bow on day two.

     Day Two: February 23rd. Today is a banner weather day, relatively calm and pleasant. It feels good, mid day negative low tide. We are going to find them. Popped into a few creeks with no love. We backed out and talked out a game plan. Jimmy wanted to dredge sink tips, a man after my heart. Dredging is a grind but could be rewarded in a big way. 20 minutes in. Boom, tight. This fish is digging, I knew it was a redfish. Jimmy was hyped up on the reel and talked through the fight. Fish in the net and we celebrate. The weight is lifted off. But we wanted more. After numerous other spots, we came across a fisherman hung up on a bar. Tide was still falling so I asked Jimmy if he minded if I lend a hand to them. We got them loose and they were super grateful. Paying us with their last 2 Miller Lites. “Jimmy I earned  you a few beers.” We both laughed.

    Keep moving. Day is getting late, and it seems we had a 1000 casts between the last fish and now. We stop at a heavy oyster rake with a hard edge, work, work, work. Next thing I know, Jimmy is popping one in the face. “Holy Shit!” Right to the reel, this fish is big. We ran this fish down for over 13 minutes, this was not the right battle to pick with a 7wt. Here comes the fish, its boat side and well over 30”, dip the net, miss. My heart sank, but we were fine. Attempt 2, dip, she is ours! We bro hugged hard. This was huge. Talk about a hail Mary, sun going down, almost over and we connected with a fish of a lifetime. This is what brings us back, we did it. Jimmy’s passion for the game is one to admire and hope my fire stays that strong throughout my life, I know it will.

We started the skiff, headed toward town and each cracked one of those cold Miller Lites. What a day to be alive.

-Johnny