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.