If It Swims

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.

Alligator Alley

The sun rose over Alligator Alley, casting long shadows over the endless stretch of wild Florida wilderness. Today was no ordinary fishing trip—it was a journey across the state, from the first tollbooth to Naples and back, traversing a land where nature reigns supreme and every cast holds the promise of the unexpected.

The day proved to be a challenge. We fished mile after mile, battling the elements and our own anticipation as fish after fish slipped through our grasp. But even as the bites eluded us, we found ourselves captivated by the raw beauty of the landscape. Majestic birds soared above, and ancient gators watched us from the shadows, their eyes glinting like the emerald waters that surrounded us. The Alley was alive, and we were part of its pulse.

When we reached Naples, the Gulf called to us. We fished a jetty, simply because we had to—the allure of the Gulf’s waters was irresistible. Afterward, had a lunch at Grouper & Chips, a hidden gem just blocks from the beach, where the flavors of the sea seemed to mirror the adventure of the day.

As we made our way back east, the fish finally relented. Luke landed a feisty little largemouth, a sign that our persistence would pay off. And then, in a moment that felt like fate, I landed my first Peacock bass—a flash of vibrant color against the fading light. It was a slow day by the numbers, but one that etched itself into my memory with the vividness of the setting sun.

On the return journey, we couldn’t resist one last cast into a canal, where the Everglades stretched out before us in a breathtaking panorama. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with fire, we stood on a levy, watching the day fade into night, content in the knowledge that some adventures are measured not by what you catch, but by what you experience.

Dinner was a hearty Cajun meal near the hotel, a perfect end to a day that had tested us, thrilled us, and left us ready for more.

Tomorrow, we rise early to chase new waters and new stories, as the adventure continues just an hour north.

Today was a day of movement, a journey more about discovery than the serious pursuit of fish.

After settling into our hotel, we couldn’t resist the call of the nearby waters, so we cast our lines into the canal right outside, where the urban landscape met the wild. The city seemed to fade away as we slipped into the rhythm of casting and reeling, every splash of the lure a reminder that adventure is where you find it.

Our search for the notorious snakehead took us to an unlikely spot—a quiet canal behind a convenience store, whispered about among those who know the area’s secrets. The air was thick with anticipation as we cast into the murky waters, each ripple a promise of something lurking beneath.

But the real catch of the day wasn’t in the water—it was at Sunrise Pita & Grill, where we savored a falafel sandwich that was nothing short of legendary. The flavors were as bold and unforgettable as any fish we might have caught, a feast worthy of the journey.

On the way back to the hotel, we couldn’t resist exploring one more canal, each stop adding another layer to the tapestry of the day. Tomorrow, we face the wild heart of Florida—Alligator Alley awaits, with its endless possibilities and untamed landscapes. Today was just the beginning.

I didn’t have a photo of a Redear Sunfish for the txfishes count. I took my TFO 0.5 wt fly rod out to a pond to pick one up.