If It Swims

Bret hit the shores of Lake Grapevine on a crisp morning, rods ready and spirits high. The goal? Some solid runs from channel catfish and maybe a hefty carp or two. While the big fish stayed elusive, the smaller ones kept the lines busy all morning.

First up were the carp. Small, scrappy, and plentiful, they tugged at the line just enough to keep Bret on his toes. Each one shimmered golden in the sunlight, their scales flashing hints of copper and orange, but none carried the heft he was hoping for.

The channel catfish were next. Though they came in modest sizes, these sleek silver fighters still had enough kick to make the catches worthwhile.

Bluegills and a longear sunfish also joined the party. The bluegill sparkled with their signature hues, while one longear stretched just a bit longer than its companions—another highlight in a morning of variety.

But the real wildcard of the day wasn’t a fish at all. Midway through the outing, Bret spotted a skunk ambling along the shoreline. With its unmistakable black-and-white markings, the little creature casually explored the underbrush, adding a touch of nature’s unpredictability to the fishing trip. Luckily, the skunk seemed more interested in foraging than causing a stink, and it eventually wandered off without incident.

Though there were no trophy catches to boast about, it was one of those mornings where the experience itself made it all worthwhile. Between the constant action, the array of species, and the wildlife encounter, Lake Grapevine once again proved why it’s such a beloved spot for anglers.

As the saying goes, “If it swims, it’s fair game”—and this trip certainly delivered on that promise, even if the biggest fighters were taking the day off.

The Texas coastline set the stage for a picture-perfect morning of fly fishing, with Dave armed and ready to sight fish for redfish. As the first light of dawn broke across the horizon, the water transformed into a mirror reflecting fiery oranges and golds. Towering clouds stretched across the sky, their dramatic shapes casting shifting shadows on the shallow flats. For any angler, it was the kind of moment that reminds you why you love the sport.

Dave’s approach was all about precision. With a fly rod in hand, he scouted the flats under the morning’s soft light, searching for the subtle movements that signal a cruising redfish. The sight fishing game demanded focus, patience, and just the right amount of finesse. The payoff came quickly—Dave spotted the telltale ripple of a redfish tail breaking the surface, its silhouette barely visible beneath the glassy water.

A smooth cast, a few quick strips, and the first red took the fly. It wasn’t a monster, but its scales shimmered golden in the rising sun, like a treasure pulled straight from the sea. The fight was spirited, the fish darting through the shallows before Dave brought it in for a quick release.

As the morning progressed, the action heated up. Dave locked onto several more reds, their shadows gliding just beneath the surface. Each encounter was a delicate dance, matching the fly’s presentation to the fish’s movement. One standout catch was a textbook-perfect redfish, bold and sturdy with a striking black tail spot. It hammered the fly with a sudden burst of energy, testing both rod and angler before finally coming aboard. With the lush coastal marshlands behind him, Dave held up the fish for a quick photo, the kind of trophy moment every fly angler lives for.

This wasn’t just fishing—it was an artful pursuit, combining the thrill of the chase with the serenity of a coastal sunrise. Between the breathtaking clouds, the challenge of sight fishing, and the undeniable beauty of the redfish, the Texas coast once again delivered a morning to remember.

For our last day in Florida, we decided to take a step back from the relentless fishing and embrace the spirit of exploration, allowing the landscape to unfold before us one last time.

We began our morning on Biscayne Key, casting into the Atlantic as the sun rose behind us. The sight of Miami’s skyline in the distance, was a great view for the the start of this day.. It was a far cry from the dense, swampy wilderness we had become accustomed to, but the thrill of fishing with the Atlantic stretching out before us was undeniable.

After a few casts and a few more moments to soak in the view, we crossed back over the causeway, leaving the city behind as we ventured toward the vast and untamed expanse of Everglades National Park. Of course, we couldn’t resist the call of the canals along the way. With each bridge we crossed, the temptation to stop and fish was too strong to ignore. Peacock bass found our lures once more, reminding us that the wild was never far, even on the road to the park.

Entering Everglades National Park felt like stepping into another world—a sprawling, ancient wilderness where time slows down, and nature reigns supreme. We fished some of the secluded ponds, pulling in small largemouth bass and sunfish, each one a reminder of the countless hidden corners of this vast ecosystem. But today was about more than just the catch.

We wandered the boardwalks, gazing out over the endless sea of grass that is the Everglades. The observation tower offered a breathtaking panorama, a reminder of just how small we are in the face of such immense, untouched beauty.

At Flamingo, the southernmost point of the mainland, we cast our lines once more, not out of expectation but out of respect for the journey that had brought us here. The Mayan cichlids bit with enthusiasm, and I couldn’t resist casting into the southernmost waters I could reach. It was more than just fishing; it was a connection to the land, a way of marking the end of an epic adventure.

As the day wound down, it was time for one last dinner, and I finally found some —conch fritters. The fritters along with jerk shrimp over rice and beans, and plantain fries. The flavors of the Caribbean danced on our tongues, a fitting tribute to the vibrant, wild spirit of Florida.

Tomorrow, we’ll board our flight home, leaving behind this land of endless water and infinite possibilities. But as we reflect on the adventures, the catches, and the moments of pure wonder, one thing is certain—I’ll be back.

The Tamiami Trail

Today was the pinnacle of our expedition, the heart of the adventure we had come to conquer. The Tamiami Trail, known to locals as simply “41,” is more than just a road—it’s a passage through time, cutting deep into the wild heart of the Everglades. Older, wilder, and more remote than Alligator Alley, this stretch of highway promised untamed waters and the thrill of the unknown.

As we ventured across the state, the excitement was palpable. This was what we had been waiting for. Before we even left the city limits, the canals were teeming with life. Peacock bass were caught immediately, their vibrant colors flashing in the early morning light. But as we pushed deeper into the Everglades, the landscape changed, and the fish began to appear in numbers that bordered on the surreal.

We lost count of the peacock bass and mayan cichlids we caught. Largemouth bass joined the fray, along with an unexpected Oscar—a new species for me, and a testament to the rich biodiversity of these waters. 

Then, something I had been waiting for—a Florida gar. I’ve spent countless hours on the trail, spotting these elusive creatures and working to  this very moment. When I finally landed, it was nothing short of electrifying. This wasn’t just any gar; it was a melanistic specimen, its dark, shadowy form unlike anything I had ever seen. With this catch, I reached four gar species across two states.

In a landscape dominated by invasive species, it was a welcome change to hook into a native bluegill, a reminder that these ancient waters still hold their original secrets. But the day was far from over.

As we journeyed further west, the scenery shifted once more, and with it, the fish. Tarpon began to appear, their silver bodies slicing through the water with the promise of a fight. Although they weren’t in the mood to eat, their mere presence added a sense of grandeur to the day.

Then came the snook. The first one was a milestone, marking the beginning of a frenzy that would last for hours. These sleek, powerful fish kept us on our toes, each one a thrill to reel in. 

But the day’s true surprise came when we detoured toward Everglades City, casting our lures around  bridges that span the murky waters.

It was there, in the outflow of the Everglades , that something extraordinary happened. My lure was suddenly and violently slammed—this was no ordinary fish. After a tense, five-minute battle, I pulled in a juvenile Goliath grouper. I had never caught one before, and the sheer power of the fish was awe-inspiring. Carefully, I unhooked and photographed it before releasing it back into the depths. It was a catch I’ll never forget.

As we fished the bridges near Everglades City and Chokoloskee, the snook continued to bite, but it was the return journey along the Tamiami Trail that brought the day to a climactic close. Small tarpon, their acrobatic leaps and fierce runs a sight to behold, began to fill our lines. These weren’t giants, but on light tackle, they were a blast. 

The taxman—a massive alligator—soon made his appearance, and we wisely decided to move on before he could collect his fee.

We spent the rest of the afternoon chasing snook and tarpon along the small channels and washes, the light beginning to fade as we made our way back east. The final stretch of the drive was a marathon of fish, with snook and tarpon falling to our lures in quick succession. Nothing over 24 inches, but on light gear, it was pure exhilaration.

Exhausted but exhilarated, we finally called it a day and picked up sandwiches from a place called “sndwch,” housed in a sleek, modern building that seemed worlds away from the wild day we had just experienced. The sandwiches and Arnold Palmers were the perfect end to a day that had been as epic as any angler could dream of.

Tomorrow, we’ll take it easy, soaking in the sights and reflecting on a day that will be etched in our memories forever.

I’ve always been the type to carve my own path, rarely opting for guided excursions. But this journey was different—venturing across the country to chase a nocturnal, bottom-dwelling fish in a lake completely unknown to me demanded the expertise of someone who knew these waters like the back of their hand. Enter Captain Patrick from Swamp to Sea Guide Service—a master of his craft, with an easygoing demeanor that made him the perfect companion for this epic quest.

The day started with an unexpected catch—a black crappie that broke the surface as if to say, “This is just the beginning.” But it was only a prelude. 

As the sun rose higher, the lake came alive. We lost track of the number of peacock bass we hauled in, each one more vibrant and fierce than the last.

And then, it happened—Luke battled and brought in the prize we had come for, the elusive and exotic Clown Knifefish, its sleek, serpentine body shimmering in the morning light.

The adventure didn’t stop there. We also caught several Mayan cichlids, a first for the trip, adding to our growing tally of exotic species.

Captain Patrick wasn’t just a fishing guide—he was a storyteller of the land, sharing his deep knowledge of the local birds and trees, adding layers of richness to the experience that went far beyond the thrill of the catch.

But the day wasn’t just about the fish. On the journey back south, we indulged in a shrimp scampi pizza that was nothing short of divine—an unexpected gourmet delight that perfectly capped off our morning on the water.

As we returned to the Miami area, the adventure continued with a few more catches before the day finally caught up with us. These included some more peacock bass and couple Jaguar Cichlids.

We washed away the day’s exertions with a well-earned shower before relaxing at a Miami Marlins game.

Exhausted but exhilarated, we collapsed into the night, our minds already turning to the next chapter of our adventure—the legendary Tamiami Trail, where more epic encounters surely awaited.