Fishing with my Dad and as a Dad 1959-2025

Front: Fajsha…XL

Front: Mr. Mocat…Medium

Both Shirts on the Back: Target: Tarpon

Memorial Day 2025    Marco Island, Florida

Written on May 29th, 2025

So to commemorate this fishing trip, I had the T-Shirts I bought of off EBay customized with the above text. So the genesis of this trip with my middle son, John started with my long-time desire to fish for tarpon.  But in point of fact, this trip started with the  love of fishing that I had acquired as a child, bequeathed to me by my Dad, to wit the following story:

At the time, we were living in Lake Oswego, Oregon and as near as I can recall, I was nine or ten years old, circa 1959. Dad used to take clients on salmon fishing trips off the Coast, leaving out of Astoria, Oregon. The clients would travel from Portland or elsewhere where they lived to Astoria where Dad had chartered an off-shore fishing vessel to fish for salmon. As I now know, these trips were scheduled during the annual salmon migration runs up the Columbia River.
Now Dad had done this trip for clients in previous years but I was too young to go on the previous trips. But this particular year, I was bigger and older. I was always “big” for my age so this year, Dad announced one night he would doing the annual trip to Astoria, a few weeks before the actual trip would take place.

Since I was older and bigger that year, I asked Dad if I could go when he announced the trip. Dad said that I was too young and not big enough. So I kinda accepted it on face value since he, in previous years, had made it clear that I was too young and not big enough. So here I was bigger, older and knew how to handle myself around older adults. It should be noted here that at that same time, Dad, also, entertained clients by playing golf at the Lake Oswego Country Club and I was big enough to caddy for Dad on those outings. I was tall enough to sling Dad’s golf club bag and not have it drag along the ground.

Caddying and Dad playing golf with clients was part of our regular routine on weekends in Lake Oswego. So I was mature enough to be around these fellows and Dad knew it. So when he said he was going again this year to Astoria, I piped up and said: “Can I go too, this year?” for the first time since I knew I was big enough and mature enough to handle it. Dad said something to the effect that no not this year. I was disappointed but I was not about to take no as a answer. So I accepted what Dad said and moved on but I, also, knew that I was not taking no as a final pronouncement. So I was quiet but determined and resolute. As the weeks passed before the Astoria trip, I would quietly and respectfully ask Dad again about this decision not to take me and he was very patient with me sayin no, not this year. This back and forth between us went on for quite awhile. I would not say that I pestered him but I did bring it up every chance I got. I should say here, that Mom was cool with it, either way. She knew I could handle it but ultimately, it was Dad’s decision. So, as the trip grew near, I resorted to begging which bordered on pestering and hectoring Dad damn near all the time, every day but the answer was always the same.
So it came to pass that it was the night before the trip. Dad always left the house about 3:00 AM to get to Astoria to meet the clients and get an early start on the day of fishing. If it recall correctly, it was about a  two hour drive to Astoria from our house. So that night before he left the next morning, I made one final attempt to state my case as to why I should go with him the next morning but the answer was still the same. I went to bed that night forlorn but resigned to my fate. I went to bed and fantasizing about all the salmon they were going to catch the next day and soon fell asleep.

The next thing I know, it’s Dad waking me up from a deep slumber. I immediately thought something is wrong, like the house was on fire but it was Dad telling me to get dressed warmly because WE WERE LEAVING FOR ASTORIA!!!

I could not get dressed fast enough. I was dressed warmly for the day and I raced down to the idling car in record time and was waiting for Dad. We loaded the car together and we were off into the dark night. To say I was pumped does not do justice to how excited I was. I could not contain myself. I thanked Dad profusely and repeatedly as we left town, driving to ASTORIA, the mythical land of salmon fishing. I soon calmed down enough to be able to listen to Dad as he laid down the rules for me in re: being with the the clients, letting them fish first and just general ideas of how to conduct myself around them even though Dad knew I knew this schtuff from our golfing and caddying days. I soon fell asleep and the next thing I knew we were in Astoria, at the dock.

We all pitched in and loaded the chartered boat with beer, food and snacks brought from home. The Captain gathered us together and explained to us how it was going to go that day, including limits of salmon per each fisherman, safety instructions, wearing life jackets, etc.etc. So we were finally ready to leave the dock and motor slowly out of the harbor onto or into the Pacific Ocean. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself but I did and acted as if this was just any old day on the water. But it wasn’t and I knew it.

So we opened it up as we left the harbor, made the transition to the Pacific through the choppy confluence of the Columbia River and the Pacific and we were off to the races and the fishing grounds. Salmon fishing involved baiting the hooks and slowly trolling back and forth, waiting for a strike on one of the rods we had deployed off the stern and sides of the boat.

We did not have to wait long. We got several strikes and the clients, in turn, took turns reeling in the salmon but after they all had boated at least one salmon, they returned to wheelhouse where the beer was and kinda lost interest so they then allowed me to fight and reel in each subsequent strike which was fine by me. The strikes were coming fast and heavy. As soon as I boated and brought aboard one fish, the other rod would reel off and I would grab that rod and reel in another fighting salmon. I was in heaven and could not have been happier than when I was fighting a fish that took all of my strength to reel in.
I proceeded to catch my limit of salmon and the Captain’s limit. The clients, as I learned later, they told Dad out of earshot of me that they enjoyed watching me more than they enjoyed catching some fish.

As we limited out in our catch for the day, the Captain headed for Astoria. We docked with me being exhausted but ecstatic with the days events. We all took our salmon to a salmon smoking facility, adjacent to the dock, paid in advance for the smoked salmon which we would receive at home a few weeks later. Which we did and I swear to this day, that those smoked salmon that we got were the sweetest, smokiest and tastiest salmon I ever had or since.

All because my Dad had surprised me with this trip.

What a great Dad!!

So that was the beginning of my life-long love of fishing. Apparently, since John is now an avid fly-fisherman in Utah, I was able as a Dad to inculcate in him the same love of fishing that I had growing up and has persisted since then. For the record, on this trip to Marco Island, Florida, John is 37 years young and I am 74 years young. So Father and Son today, replicate my early days as a fisherman off of Astoria, Oregon. Over the the intervening years, our fishing together has always been a constant in an ever-changing Universe. 

There are many more stories of us sharing time together fishing but these stories will have to wait until I can capture what went down this past Memorial Day Weekend off of Marco Island, Florida. So how did this trip for tarpon materialize for both of us, you ask? A little more background is needed to flesh out how we got here and then there. 

Over the continuum of my life, if we took a vacation and it was anywhere near the Ocean, I made sure that  I carved off a day to charter an off-shore boat so I could spend the day rockin’ and rolling on the Ocean, fishing for whatever was running at the time. It came to pass that I was living in SE Kansas in 1987, working with my buddy, Grant and he said why don’t we take the wives to Mazatlan, Mexico for a vacation? So we made plans to do just that. As an aside, I had told my Dad about this trip, now living in La Jolla, California and had invited him and Mom to join us in Mazatlan. Dad hemmed and hawed and was noncommittal. So right before we left for Mazatlan, I called him again and he said Mom was not feeling up to traveling so it was definitely a no-go on their part.

So fast forward, to the hotel in Mazatlan where we checked in, unpacked in the room and went down to the beach bar and order our first drinks of the trip. As we were sitting there, watching the the Pacific roll in, I was startled by somebody grabbing from behind and shaking me. I turned around thinking at the time, it must be an old college buddy who recognized me and wanted to surprise me but lo and behold, it was my Dad and Mom standing there. I could not have been happier to see them in the moment. So they fooled me with their arrival in Mazatlan. I was ecstatic with this surprise visit. So the next day, I wandered down to the pier where the off-shore charter boats were available and picked a random Captain based on the rigging of his boat and made arrangements to charter his boat the next day he had available. He did not speak English well but we agreed on a price, shook hands and we were set. The morning of charter, Dad, Grant and I were up at the crack of Dawn and made our way down the pier. So we spent the morning fast trolling live bait for a potential Pacific Blue Marlin bite because they were allegedly always running up and down the Coast of Mexico. Midway through the morning, we got a strike, we reeled in our other lines out and Grant took the rod and reel and began the fight. It soon became apparent to the crew and us that the bite was not acting like a Marlin. It was a big shark so Grant continued to fight it. We got it to the boat and cut the line. 

So it was getting near time to end our trip and head back to the dock. I asked the Captain for a little more time. In his broken English, he agreed. So I resumed my position in the fighting chair and resumed my scanning the bait spread. This went on for a while until I saw in the wake of the boat, an on-edge black fin come up on the live bait trolling far back in the wake. I called out and immediately had a strike. I grabbed the rod and reel and hopefully set the hook. At this point, we knew we had a fish but we did not what it was until it breached, came up and tried to shake the hook. Then we knew, we had a Marlin. We all got very excited and then the fight began. I battled this Marlin while it breached several more times on the way back to the boat as I reeled. The Marlin had several runs against the drag as I gained back line. After about 20 minutes, the Marlin was starting to tire and I could sense that through the rod and reel. As the fish got closer to the boat, the first mate took the rod and used the line to bring it closer. We all leaned over to view this fish and it was magnificent and not a big Marlin but still a good fighter. As the boat slowed, the first mate grabbed the bill and at that moment, the fish was able to shake the hook loose. The first mate lost his hold on the bill due to violent shaking by the fish and it swam away. 

Meanwhile, we were celebrating and high-fiving each other. I was high as a kite and could not contain myself. I might have even said my favorite line about fishing, to wit: “Fishing is the most fun you can have with your clothes on.” Grant and Dad were excited with this catch and release. So I signaled to the Captain that it was now time to return to the dock. So we did.

Flash forward to December 7, 1997, we were living in Atlanta and I became friends with a fellow project manager in the Miami office and he and I both loved to fish but we had never gone out on his boat to fish before. So it came to pass that I had a project at Homestead Air Reserve Base in Florida that encompassed a remediation of the Base which had suffered extensive damage after Hurricane Andrew. I had the weekend free and Mike, my work pal, had nothing going on so I bunked at his house in Pompano Beach and we decided to go out the next day to fish for sailfish. We got up early on that morning, toted our day’s supplies down the boat which was docked at his apartment complex and we were off up the Intracoastal Waterway to the Hillsborough Inlet where we would leave the Intracoastal Waterway and exit out into the Gulf Stream. As per usual and as tradition dictates, we cracked open our first beer of the day, with the toast of “The Breakfast of Champions.”  As we were nearing the Hillsborough Inlet, a guy with a live well was selling bait to boats as they got ready to leave the Waterway. So we sidled up to his boat after signaling to him that we needed some bait. We got the bait fish transferred to our live well, paid him cash and we were set for a full day of fishing for sailfish. 

As Mike navigated the boat to leave the Intracoastal, I could see the major-league chop and the rolling wakes of other boats transitioning the Inlet. Mike’s boat was relatively small as compared to some other boats but still big enough to handle to chop and other wakes created in the Inlet. But I was not prepared for how choppy it really was. We were tossed around quite a bit as we navigated through the Inlet. It was hairy, wet and quite a ride. I was hanging in there as we were violently tossed back and forth but Mike was used to navigating this Inlet and soon, we were offshore in calmer waters. 

Mike began to set us up for trolling for sailfish. We had a four rod setup, two close in and two rods setup on outriggers. We let each rod and reel out so they would maximize our bait spread and began trolling, All the while keeping our boat out of of the way of other boats with their bait spreads. I kept an eye on the bait spread and our rods while Mike navigated the boat. This went on for quite a while and we did not seem to be attracting any bites. So since Mike was familiar with kite-fishing, we reeled in all of our rods and began to setup for the kites to be deployed. Kite fishing is really wild and I had never done it before but Mike knew exactly how to rig us for kite fishing. Kite fishing setup typically includes a special fishing kite, a kite line, release clips, and a fishing rod with a reel. The kite carries the bait on the surface of the water, allowing for stealthy fishing of species like sailfish and tuna. 

So we deployed the kites one on each side of boat while slowly trolling, letting the kites do their thing. It was not long after deploying the kites that we got a bite, I grabbed the rod and set the hook and while Mike worked getting in the kites and the other rods. . The sailfish once hooked made a spectacular run as we fine-tuned the drag.  I began to get line back and got the fish closer to the boat. Just as I did that something odd happened. The sailfish poked his bill and head out of the water, eyeballed the boat, ducked back down and went on another mind bending run. So begin the process we all know and love. The fight was on. It was a slow slog, getting the line back again but I did and soon was able to get the fish near the boat. And then the  sailfish exhibited the same behavior. It poked its bill and his head above the waves, eyeballed the boat and went on another spectacular run tearing away from the boat. At this point, I could feel that the fish was tiring and it became easier to muscle him to the boat. Finally, he was tired enough for us to bring the fish to the boat. Mike leaned over to free the hook-lipped sailfish and I stowed the rod and reel while Mike kept ahold of the fish by the bill. I was able to join him and we both hauled the sailfish out of the water and onto the boat. I cradled the sailfish on the stern the boat, Mike grabbed the camera and we snapped a photo. I transferred the fish to Mike and I took his picture with the fish. We then both lowered the sailfish to the water, holding it by its bill and Mike slowly moved the boat ahead while i revived the fish and holding it slightly submerged so the water would move across his gills, getting his strength back. After a little while, I could see and feel him getting stronger and he started to to use his tail fin to move back and forth in the water. Pretty soon after that movement, he started to to shake his head weakly at first then with stronger and stronger movement, back and forth. As the fish revived in my hands, I could see and feel it was time to let him him go so I did just that. I took his bill and aimed him out and away from the boat. With this final push, I released him back to his environment, hopefully, none the worse for wear. I got up and watched him swim back down to the depths and knew he was going to be OK.

And then the jubilation, in me began. I was dancing around the stern whooping and hollering, dancing in my joy. Mike watched me and understood my exhilaration because he understood just how high I was after that. I could not stop celebrating the catch and release of my first sailfish. I literally could not contain myself with the feelings I was experiencing in that moment. Now I should state here, I am experienced when it comes to having psychedelic times. I have taken many doses of LSD, mescaline, mushrooms and other accelerants in my past but nothing I had previously experienced prepared me for the absolute joy and jubilation I was feeling just then, in those moments. Nothing in my past had prepared me for this feeling, right now. I was overwhelmed with joy and over the moon with excitement. I should state here that when I caught the Pacific Blue Marlin, my reaction was a bit muted with Dad and Grant there to celebrate that catch. Why I don’t know but this catch and release of the the sailfish was magnitudes above how I felt at that catch and release. It was similar but nowhere near how I was feeling, right after the sailfish release. I really could not come down from it even if I wanted to, at that moment. So the moment lasted and lasted until I had the bright idea to call Dad. 

Now it was roughly speaking about 8:30 AM East Coast time so it was three hours earlier in La Jolla, California where Dad and Mom were living, at the time but I did not hesitate or care about the time difference, I just knew I had to call my Dad so I did just that using Mike’s cellphone since I did not own one. After a few rings, Dad groggily answered and with that, I overwhelmed him with my enthusiasm and complete joy/bliss even though he was only half-awake. I rattled on and on to him but I could tell he grokked what was happening and understood and was able to take in my joy, at that moment, even though I had just awakened him. After much gushing and incoherently rambling, I was able to calm down a bit and we ended our call but the joy and jubilation persisted after calling Dad, I could not come down, although I was a little more coherent but not much. 

Finally, Mike brought us both back to reality by beginning to set the boat up for more fishing. I gathered myself as best I could and began helping him to set up more bait including setting up the two kites. But even then the high did not fade, it persisted for quite awhile. We then began the process of fishing again. That activity actually finally began to bring me down, in good way and I was able to concentrate on the baits and kites, again. But alas and alack, we found no more fish that day but neither of us cared. Some time after, we decided to call it a day and began reeling in all the baits and kites and headed back to the Inlet and Mike’s house. I was still infused with the feelings engendered by that catch and release, as we motored back to the dock.

A final note about that day which is this. Mike got the pictures from that day developed and called me. So we arranged to meet at his house to look at them together which we did and noticed something we had overlooked in our joy, at the moment, As we studied the photographs we took that day, we both noticed the the sailfish had a tag which we never noticed at that the time because it was covered in algae or something. Now that day, Mike was prepared to tag a sailfish because he had the tags and equipment necessary for taking off an old tag and putting a new one on if we got lucky but we completely forgot back then to look for or remember we could tag that fish. Had we remembered that day, I would have been interesting to remove the tag, put a new one on and submit the tag and then we could have found out where and when, it had been caught before and had a another story to tell.

Memorial Day Weekend, 2025

Some time ago, John, my middle son and I had been idly talking about John’s frequent fly fishing in Utah which is where he lives now. In the past, when John was young and living with me, we never missed a chance to go fishing. We happen to live on Lake Lanier in Georgia with a dock and boat and this made it very easy for us to take our rods/reels and tackle box down to the dock and fish off of our dock or load the boat up, bring the tackle box and fish for bass in the Lake. We have spent many an hour, together just fishing from the dock or in the boat, trolling around and spot fishing on the Lake. Nothing fancy, just fishing and spending time with each other. 

Prior to us moving to the Lake in 2002, I can remember as does John, us going to a party at a co-worker’s house. Terry’s parties were always parties where we could take the kids and Terry’s parties always included activities for the kids while the adults could have time to visit with each other and eat, drink and be merry. Since Terry was a like-minded fisherman, I knew he had rods and reels in his garage. At this one particular party, I asked Terry if we could borrow one of his smaller rigs to go fishing in his subdivision’s pond or pocket lake, as I call them. So with rod and reel in hand, John and I walked down to this pond, near his house. At the time, John was eight or nine years old. We both remember this day with crystal clarity since it was so significant to us. We got to the pond, walked out onto tiny pier and began casting with John doing the fishing. It did not take long before John got a bite and reeled in a tiny perch. We were both excited with his catch so much so that I ran back up to Terry’s, told him that John had caught a perch so Terry grabbed a camera and ran with me back down the pond where John was waiting with the fish, swimming around while still on the hook. Terry snapped a photo of us displaying the tiny fish, John grinning ear-to-ear while I was grinning as a proud papa. Maybe that was the start of John’s life-long love of fishing. I don’t know but that moment captured in Terry’s photo of us, together, grinning at the camera while holding the fish up for the camera was the start of it all for John. Once that moment was captured, John and I carefully unhooked the perch and released him back to the pond, no worse for wear. The three of us then hiked back to Terry’s party grinning the whole time.

John is 37 now and his love of fishing has never wavered. He loves it now and his love of fishing has only grown deeper over the intervening years. He never misses a chance to go far and wide to experience fishing. Recently, he has gone to Alaska for salmon and had just completed a float trip down the Snake River in Idaho where this group of guys from his town, all fished for trout and small mouth bass in the Snake. So while talking about these trips with John, on the phone, I asked him did he ever want to go fish for tarpon? He responded enthusiastically to my suggestion and told me his fly fishing buddy in Utah, a guy named Panda had talked to him about a trip to Florida he had made to fish for tarpon. Panda gushed on and on about this trip and how much fun he had on that trip and how there really was nothing like tarpon fishing. So when I brought it up that I would dearly love to fish for this species of fish, John said: “Hell yeah, Dad.” And so began our journey to make that trip happen. Panda said his guide on his memorable trip was a guy named Jason, who guided off of Marco Island, Florida. Panda also told John that previously Jason lived in Minnesota and fished exclusively for Muskie on Lake Minnetonka and became the winner of many Muskie tournaments on that Lake. So I asked John to see if Panda still knew this guide and how to get ahold of him. As it turns out, Jason does not have a website or advertise in any way so everything is word of mouth from one fisherman to another. So knowing a little about tarpon and the seasonal nature of these fish, I knew that prime time for them was in Spring and early Summer on the West Coast of Florida. Since it was Winter, at the time of this discussion, I asked John to ferret out of Panda Jason’s contact information. Time was passing and I knew good guides book up fast during prime time for any species of fish. So periodically I would bust John and ask him did you talk to Panda yet? So yes, I did pester John unmercifully to get this trip moving along. So finally between his work and traveling, John did talk to Panda and got Jason’s contact information. As it turns out, Jason only had two days available in May, Friday and Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend. When I heard this from John, I told him to “Book ‘em, Dano!”and he did. So we were set.

 Since I am 74 and a Luddite, I had no clue about these newfangled options like AirBnB which John does since he currently owns two places he rents out on AirBnB in Denver and it had been 17 years since I traveled on an airplane so John booked that for me, as well. John booked the rental,car for us, as well. Now I should share here that I used travel about forty weeks by airline every year for my job when the boys were growing up but I have since lost my skills in those departments so I relied on John to do these things for our trip together. These days since I became funemployed/retired in 2015, I travel with Jennifer in the motorhome exclusively. It should be noted here that John and his wife are accomplished world travelers and so all this was easy for John. 

As we moved closer to Memorial Day, 2025, I began the preps for traveling and eventually, fishing which included buying some matching T-Shirts off of EBay and taking them to a custom T-shirt shop, here in town and had them imprinted with the following: Front of the shirt our nicknames for each other and on the back, three lines:

TARGET: TARPON 

MARCO ISLAND, FLORIDA 

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND, 2025

Pretty bold statements if you know anything about fishing especially since there is always the possibility of getting skunked and catch no fish but I did it, anyway. And as it turned out, I am glad I did because John was ecstatic when I showed him the shirts. We both were grinning ear-to-ear when we took a selfie of us wearing the shirts with John’s cellphone. So based on our planning, we would have a day to suss out Marco Island and Goodland, Florida where John had booked our AirBnB and buy our supplies for our stay and lunch for two days on the water with Jason. Upon our arrival, John texted Jason, advising him that we made it to Goodland. We chose Goodland because that is where the boat ramp is that Jason used to launch his boat.

John and I arrived simultaneously in Ft. Myers, Florida, him from Utah and me from Atlanta. Using cellphones, we found each other at the Rental Car Center and proceeded to the car. Since John traveled so much, he had become a Gold member at Hertz so we proceeded to a row of cars where we could pick any car which we proceeded to do. As we were loading and starting the engine of the car, we both noticed that the check engine light was on. Rather than using that particular car, John found an attendant at a Hertz kiosk, told them about the check engine light and got the following answer: “oh, it’ll be alright. Sometimes they just  forget to to reset the computer.” So John came back to our car, told me what the Hertz human said and he began the search for another car among the other choices. John jumped in another random car. Same thing happened. So John rejected that one too. Same thing again with another car until he found one that did not exhibit the same problem which happened to to be a Chevy. So we transferred our carry-ons to it and we were off to the races and Marco Island and Goodland. But being superstitious fishermen, we wondered about this inauspicious start. Understandably, we felt this could be an omen of things to come, i.e.: we could get skunked while fishing for tarpon. As it turns out, Boy Howdy, were we ever wrong about this omen and less than momentous start to our trip.

From the airport, we travelled down I-75 to Marco Island which according to John’s magic phone was an hour away. A uneventful passage even though we both had to get used to the heat and scenery we were passing through. The view from I-75 South from Ft. Myers was flat and one full of industrial warehouses altered by huge subdivisions. Since  John had typed in the address to the place we were renting in Goodland, we drove straight there. When working, I worked a lot of projects in Florida and told John that I felt “Florida was built on a sandbar.” I say this because when we would execute projects in Florida, we would do site assessments since we were hired to clean up hazardous waste so soil and water samples had to be taken so as determine the existence and extant contamination. When did this on the Florida projects, we would drill down through the soil for soil samples and then we would sample the water, as well. Invariably on my South Florida projects, we would drill through the soil and hit water at three feet below the surface. Hence my comment to John, as we drove South. The other thing I told John was about the hurricanes and Florida which south Florida is known for. We both agreed that that propensity was one we were not prepared to deal with if we were ever to move here or even buy a place here for residency during the Winter months, I had experienced several hurricane evacuations during my time in South Florida performing projects and they were not pretty. Specifically, we spoke about the heat we were experiencing and how hot it was even though it was the end of May. We were both coming from much cooler climes in Utah, especially and NE Georgia, as well during this Spring of 2025.

It should be noted here that I still smoke cigarettes, have survived two strokes,  confirmed two growths, one on my prostate and one on my bladder, have A-Fib and I resemble the remark that: “Growing ain’t for sissies” People often ask me as I do myself: would I have done anything differently had I known I was going  live this long?  My answer is always the same: “Not a damned thing. I earned this age by dint of everything I have done up until this point.” So this trip was for me, a way to test my mettle against a fish known for its fight. I honestly did not know if I still had it in me to be successful against a tarpon that is famous for its fight. This was an unspoken reason for this trip. I just did not know because I am much frailer now than I was ten or fifteen years ago. Prior to this trip, I had fantasized that maybe if I hooked a large tarpon I would not be able to finish the fight and have to give up and hand over the rod and reel to John bring it to the boat. I just did not know if I still had it in me and it was almost existential, in a way (not to use an overworked metaphor) for how I felt about this trip going in. But as it turns out, I still do as we shall see.

So found our rental place and settled into the single-wide, mobile home trailer that we rented and found it was adequate for our needs and we unpacked and proceeded to drive back into Marco Island for supplies which included beer, food to eat while on the boat and various and sundry items for surviving in the heat and Sun, the next two days. Normally, when chartering a guide, I like to know his boat set-up and how he has it fit for purpose, in this case, tarpon but none of that was available to us since Jason did not have a website which would have give us that data so we were flying blind. One thing we did search for on Marco Island, was some sun-blocking long pants since I was on some antibiotics for a prostate condition which made me super-sensitive to the Sun. So we stopped in at a couple of bait and tackle joints we randomly found while driving around Marco Island. One place we thought we could stop at and and ask about present conditions for tarpon turned out to be a dud because the gal running it that day was remarkably close-mouthed about how the tarpon bite was that day but she did direct us to West Marine where I found the perfect pants for the trip. While we were there, we asked her about our guide Jason and she professed that she had never heard of him which was not unusual since as it turns out, Jason had no need to frequent Marco Island bait and tackle stores since he did all of his fishing out of Goodland and Goodland was almost a different world when compared to to glitzy Marco Island which was dominated by gated high-rise hotels and gated condo developments and dotted with mondo McMansions while Goodland was all mobile home trailers that backed onto the canal, as our rental did, with a few glitzy houses interspersed, here and there. 

Our rental was a two bedroom, single full bath joint but it fit our needs perfectly. John had chosen this place because it was not run by some fancy-shmancy rental oversight company with tons of restrictions since he knew I still smoked and this place had a outdoor carport where I could smoke and not bother anybody and it was near the boat ramp we would be using in Goodland. We knew this since John had texted Jason when we arrived and John had known that we would be putting in at Goodland hence our stay in Goodland. Jason immediately replied to meet us at the boat launch at 6:30 AM the next day. So after securing our supplies for the next two days at Marco Island, we did some reconnaissance in Goodland and drove around tiny Goodland and found the boat launch. We also discovered the Little Bar on Goodland where Jennifer my Dear Wife had remotely viewed some of the features of Goodland using the magic of some of the mapping tools available from our home in NE Georgia, prior to the trip. Jennifer had figured out that Little Bar was within walking distance from our rental and basically said after viewing the menu at Little Bar remotely that that is where we should eat supper on our first night which is exactly what we did that first night. Little Bar was the perfect choice since it had indoor and outside seating on the water next to the Inlet harbor where many boats docked. John since he was from Utah decided to order something off of the seafood menu while I had fish and chips. Both our meals were really good and we both were surprised since we did not know what to expect. I should note that we ordered the mozzarella sticks and were disappointed with them but our meals hit the spot. Our walk back to the rental, I had said that I forgot to buy and ashtray for smoking in the verandah or carport so we happened by an outdoor bar and John wandered over to the tables outside and found an ashtray we could “temporarily borrow” from them with a vow to return it to the bar before we left Goodland for good. Which we did. Our walk back to the trailer home was dominated by our taking about our fishing adventure and anticipation of what tomorrow would hold for us since we were so excited about our first day on the water with an unknown guide that we had chosen based on Panda’s recommendation. We both knew we had the potential to get skunked so that is why Panda recommended that we book two days just because of that potentiality. That night, John and I had one of our  signature discussions which had a tradition of going back a ways. John would basically interview me with questions about growing up with me, my present relationship with the Dear Wife and how the divorce from my ex-wife had affected him growing up. These back and forths between us had started on a trip we took to Suches, Georgia a few years and had morphed into a thing we do and maybe all sons do with Dads. The first time we did it in Suches, we recorded it so as John said, at the time, his kid or kids could hear, at least hear Grandpa’s voice if I was not around to be present when he had kids or grand babies. Soon, we both grew sleepy and headed to bed. We were both filled to the brim with excitement about what could happen the next day out on the water.

Before bed, we had both set our alarms on our phones so we would be up and at ‘em  bright and early. I woke up way early since I don’t sleep regularly anymore. I am lucky if I get 4 hours a night. This may be due to my choosing to work Night Shift at my last project before I retired which was at Plant Vogtle where we were building two “new” nuke plants for Georgia Power/Southern Company. I had just been recently re-diagnosed with sleep apnea so that maybe why I do not sleep as well as I should  nowadays. Nevertheless, John was still sawing logs when I poked my nose into his bedroom and told him to “rise and shine.” It was the day we had been planning for the last couple of months and my excitement was palpable since I had already been up for hours drinking coffee and smoking already for hours before I woke him up. Once he was up and functioning, we loaded up the beer, food and got dressed in our gear for the day. I applied zinc oxide which John had brought on my nose and face even though I was wearing a wide-brimmed fishing hat, prescription sunglasses with keepers attached to my head so I would not lose them overboard, no mater what happened, long sleeve shirt and the aforementioned sun-blocking long pants, boat shoes and everything we would need for a full day of fishing. John did the same. He brought a a sun-blocking hoodie but for the early morning, he was dressed in shorts, a regular t-shirt and sandals. We brought our supplies for the day in tied-up little plastic grocery bags and the beer for the day was in its original packaging. So we double-checked our little bundles, making sure we did not forget anything and loaded up the back seat of the rental car and we were off, right on time for the three minute drive to the boat launch. We found parking amid all the trucks and boat trailers that were already there since those cats and kitties had already launched their boats. As we gathered up all our schtuff, we realized that neither of us knew what Jason looked like since our only contact from Utah was by texting. In the boat launch area, there was lodge-like building that was accessed by steps up to it and a handicap ramp up the building itself. As we walked from the parking to the building, at the top of the steps was a cat standing at the top of the steps. At his point, he could have been anybody but he softly called John by name and then we knew that it was Jason. Jason was about five-foot, eight inches tall, medium build, wiry with Sandy hair and a ruddy face from being on the water everyday. He descended the steps and greeted us. We introduced ourselves, shook hands and followed him around the building to the docks where his boat was moored. Jason jumped on board and I handed down our pathetic little grocery bags and beer which he stowed on ice underneath the seat which was hinged and molded into the center console to reveal a perfect little cooler which had plenty of room for all of the beer and whatnot. The boat itself was a 26 foot, center-console, no canopy rig powered by a big-ass brand new white Yamaha outboard. Once we got situated, Jason backed the boat out into the no-wake navigation channel and we were off. As we were motoring out at just above idling, I broke back into the cooler, brought out two beers, cracked the tops on both, gave one to John and as I always do toasted John and said the words that inaugurate every fishing trip I have taken previously which was: “Beer. The Breakfast of Champions.” So John and I stood in the bow of the boat, taking in the alien scenery of mangrove islands, some even with beaches and separated by big channels of water. Once we left the no-wake zone, Jason in his soft voice said we should sit down because he was going open that big-ass Yamaha up all the way to get to our next destination. So we sat and Jason ran that boat at speed down the middle of the channel leading out to the Gulf. It was exhilarating and exciting to finally be here and now, going like a bat out of hell down the channel. I had chosen to sit on the hinged seat, right in front of the center console. My wide-brimmed hat had an under the chin rope that I cinched down to keep it on my head so I cinched it down even further as the boat gained speed and the force of the wind tried to take my hat off. We passed by more mangrove islands which were fascinating to see, one after another. As drank my Breakfast of Champions, the beer in the wind was frothing out the top, splashing it on my mouth and as I drank it down. Soon Jason made a wide sweeping right-hand turn and we were slowing down again as we entered a no-wake zone, fronted by mondo McMansions with three story Florida rooms encasing a huge pool area. We were back in the Marco Island area, motoring towards a bridge. As we neared the bridge, Jason cut the engine and he opened a hatch in the bow that contained his casting net. So we cleared the bow and Jason prepped himself to make a wide perfect cast onto a school of threadfins to be used as live bait. He gathered up the strings of the net, and began hauling it up so that he could bring it aboard with the threadfins captured and empty it into the live well in the stern of the boat. As we observed this activity, I noticed that Jason had the radio on playing 70s music which was quite OK by me. Jason made two more perfect casts, netting more threadfins for the live well. When done, he carefully stowed and placed the net back into its hatch and again, took the helm. I asked Jason what radio station he was getting the music from and he said Pandora. Jason throughout the span of both days was always softly singing the lyrics to each random song playing and even at times, whistling to each new tune. As we left the bridge, John and I turned to our right and watched a magnificent sunrise coming up over the houses on the canal. Once  we were out of the no-wake zone, Jason opened her up again and we were running at full speed in between the mangrove islands, passing by on our port and starboard sides. It was definitely a fun ride that signaled that we were now ready to hunt tarpon. I use hunt here to mean that we literally were on the hunt for them because they inhabit very shallow water, most time at three of four feet down sometimes more but not much more. This was fascinating to me since these fish were so big I could not envision them hanging about in water that shallow. Even the bass in Lake Lanier were a species that based on water temperature varied in depths, sometimes ranging up to 25 feet or more below the surface. Jason said tarpon were, also sensitive to water temperature as we would soon find out. After a long run at speed, we got to a cove surrounded on both side by mangroves. Jason still speaking softly said they here here yesterday. So we began to get our casting rigs together. The rods themselves were longer and stouter than the lake rods I was used to and had big reels containing much line. I struggled at first with casting these rods and made a lot of lousy casts into the lagoon. While John showed more dexterity with his rod and slowly improved with each cast until he was placing his casts with great precision.

The Boat: As per usual, the boat is everything when it comes to fishing like this. As mentioned it was 26 foot boat made by an outfit called Pathfinder which was customized to the hilt. The outboard was a 350 HP Yamaha which really had some get up and go to it and was perfect for this rig. As it turns out since I asked Jason later which came first: “the boat or the customization or the move to Florida from Minnesota?” He  answered that he had had it customized in Minnesota before the move to Florida. The bow had two side hatches for stowage below, two with images of tarpon embedded into the no-slip fabric carpeting and a center hatch with a Thorne Bros. Logo with an image of a Muskie underneath the logo. Most of his rods were Throne Bros. rods. So basically, Jason knew what he wanted in this Pathfinder before he moved down to Florida, ten years before. When I think about it now, it is kind of a funny name for a boat manufacturer since paths are more associated with woods and forests rather than a watercraft. As I said, it was a center console with no canopy to give us some respite from the Sun but we were prepared for all day in the Sun so it did not matter to us. Jason had the boat outfitted with a rig that I had never seen before. Now, I am used to the regular old fish finder set-up but Jason’s rig was an order of magnitude better than what I had previously seen. He had a combination Garmin trolling motor in the bow that also contained a side-scan sonar looking out in front of the boat in wide array which was attached to no-glare screen mounted in the bow so the angler in the bow could look at the screen and actually see the tarpon coming at him or out away from the boat. The angler in the bow could look at the screen in front of him at waist level and  judge how far and when to cast to the passing tarpon, on either side or in front of him. Jason had a similar screen set-up at the helm. Since the water was so shallow, this side-scan sonar worked like a charm and John was soon using it to make really good casts at passing tarpon. John had to get used to judging where the fish were based on the screen and adjust his cast to try to hit the tarpon on the nose, as Jason said. It was really innovative and quite a unique way to hunt for tarpon. 

After catching the bait at the bridge and motoring out to this particular cove where the tarpon were the day before, we powered down and started the drift using the Garmin bow-mounted trolling motor/side-scan sonar and a another trolling motor mounted next to the center console helm station. Jason lowered both into the water and we began the hunt using all of the tools Jason had aboard. John was positioned in the bow, trying to adapt to using the side-scan sonar. The monitor in the bow gave the angler a view of what was directly in front of him with about a thirty degree view on either side. Jason from the helm could angle the bow mounted sonar to port or starboard from his vantage point thus increasing what we could see on the monitor. Between the bow and the deck of the boat, there was step up to the bow as platform for walking back and forth with each cast. While I stood on the lower level, John was on the bow, pacing back and forth as fish were spotted on the sonar,. As I said, it took John a while as he adjusted his casting skills to this new method of spotting fish. While I fumbled around on the main deck, attempting to make good, long casts from my position. At this particular location on the first day yielded no fish in the area but it was early and neither of us was worried. So soon after spotting no fish, we pulled both trolling motors and stowed our rods. We then motored to a new spot which looked to my untrained eye just like the previous spot. Another spot located between the mangrove islands.

June 10th, 2025

. But this cove or spot was where we both experienced our first tarpon ever.

So we began our hunt using the side-scan sonar with John in the bow eagerly watching the monitor for any signs of passing tarpon using his new-found casting skills to try and put the live bait on the nose of incoming fish which he did, almost immediately when he hooked into something and it went on a line-stripping sizzling run. John’s rod was bending with force and weight of the fish, running away from the boat. Just then Jason left the helm and climbed up on the bow with John and gave him the bad news. It was a shark. So false alarm but to us amateurs we thought in our ignorance that it was a tarpon. So John fought it for awhile and he muscled back to the boat. As the shark got close but not too close, Jason leaned over and cut the line and we re-grouped. As I write this, I am reminded that our Marlin trip mentioned above started out in exactly the same way, both times we caught a shark first. Today,  it was John that caught a shark first, back then, it was Grant that did it first. So was this then a good omen of what was to become a day of good fishing to come or just the opposite? We for sure did not know. So Jason re-rigged John’s line with a thread fin and we were off to the races again. I was still struggling to make good casts while John was proving to be a fast learner when it came to precision casting. His casts keep getting better and better as he began to dial in placing the bait right in front of the oncoming fish appearing on his screen, meanwhile my casts were pathetic flops as I tried to get the hang it.

 But it did not matter to me because one of the joys of fishing was just being out on the water, enjoying the new waters environment that we were in and of being in the moment or the present or in the here and now. It is hard to explain but the all the moments of fishing like this were the same thing and that is there was only one thing that was important and that was getting a line wet while repeating over and over again casting. That is it. Those moments are what makes fishing great for me and I dare say for John is just that, too. So really in the long run my pathetic casts did not matter at all, just the fact that I was alive to experience these pathetic casts was it for me and nothing else mattered, at all, ever. And this is true whenever I fish, whether it lake fishing or Johnny catching a tiny perch. Time does not matter when you are in the  flow of the moment, fishing. Being separated from Jennifer on a trip does not matter in those moments or that I had bills to pay at home or  any of the things that we consume our daily lives with drop away and we become hunters only focused on the immediate thing, hunting. Fishing is a different hunting activity than say, deer hunting or other hunts that man can pursue on land because there is an active movement, casting in fishing whereas, as in Turkey hunting or deer hunting or the like there are moments when you have stop and wait while you try to suss out certain sounds and wait for that sound to resolve itself so you can continue to to stalk whatever it is you are after on land. As you hunt on land, there are pauses that inevitably happen and that is when potentially other thoughts can intrude on the hunt and you can lose your focus.

 A quick side story is appropriate here to illustrate what happens on land hunting vs fishing. Back living in Kansas, in 1985, my friends and I decided to go Winter hunting for geese. The how of hunting for geese in the Winter in Kansas, at the time, consisted of setting decoys up in an already harvested wheat field, dressing in long, white dusters to mimic the snow on the ground and lying down on the hard, cold ground, shotguns at the ready  and calling out to passing geese overhead. This type of hunting allowed moments to intrude while waiting on the geese. For example, I had thoughts like I sure would like to be back home in the front of the roaring fire, warming my bones instead of out here freezing my tits off on the cold, hard ground. Or cursing the long times between sighting new geese and having no geese in sight. Sure, there was the camaraderie of being out with friends, all doing the same thing but that feeling is not quite same while fishing with friends which I have done often with these same guys. So all things considered, the active act of casting, over and over again is the most fun vs land hunting which can have static moments when other thoughts can intrude. One last thing about casting and that is with each cast, you never know if that’ll be the one that hooks up a fish, any fish and that hope on each cast is what keeps you casting. Jest sayin’.

So hooking the man in the gray suit kind broke the ice for us. So we began again, trolling, side-scanning, casting and rinse and repeat, endlessly. As we continued with this cycle, we calmed down a little bit from the excitement of the man in the gray suit and we resumed our hunt. After awhile, John and Jason both noticed on their respective monitors, a pack of tarpon came sliding by our boat at a very leisurely pace. John took aim at this pack, made his cast and “Wham, Bam, Thank You, Ma’am,” John was hooked up with a tarpon! This tarpon was doing all right things as John attempted to hold on while the rod bent and the drag on the reel slowed down the initial run by this tarpon. Jason and I reeled in our baits and stowed the rods while John was fully engaged with this fish. The tarpon began another run against John and the drag and John was holding on for dear life. This run was toward the stern of the boat and John stepped down from the bow and walked his way back to the stern, as well. Another line-stripping run and John was walking around the stern and as the fish led John up the port side of the boat, toward the bow again. All the while, John was learning over as kept a tight line on the fish while trying to get some line back from the fish. The fight took on that familiar and always fun feeling of the see-saw, back and forth struggle of leaning over as you try to gain some line back, pause while the drag did its work then leaning over as you furiously reeled in again, pause and then reeling in again as the fish struggled mightily against the pressure from John and the drag. Then this tarpon did what all tarpon are famous for: a spectacular leap from the water, tail-walking as he shook his head back and forth as he tried to shake the hook loose and the submerged again as that move did not shake the hook loose But our astonishment at our first sighting of this behavior by the tarpon was truly exhilarating for John and I as we recovered from this sight. It was truly a moment in time watching this fish leaping and shaking it’s head as it fell back onto the water. So the fight continues as John walked around the boat again, gaining back line only to have the fish go on another run.

It should be noted here that Jason as any good guide will do educated us on our target species, in this case, tarpon. He had said earlier to us during a lull that tarpon do produce lactic acid. What does lactic acid have to with anything? Your body usually fuels your muscles with oxygen (aerobically). If you start doing intense physical activity faster than your body can get oxygen to your muscles and other tissues, your cells break down glucose to create the energy you need to keep moving (anaerobically). Lactic acid is created when you’re generating energy anaerobically. In other words, as tarpon struggle, fight, go on long, line-stripping runs and do all the things they do to shake the hook loose, their bodies produce lactic acid, which means when demand for oxygen is high such as with intense exercise, the tarpon is not slowed down by having to convert its cells to running on lactic acid. This is known as a process of lactic acidosis produces lactic acid which results in an oxygen debt which can be resolved or repaid when tissue oxygenation improves. 

Battling an angler is strenuous exercise for a hooked tarpon. The battle includes heavy pulling by all involved, plus acrobatic leaps and endurance swimming for the tarpon. Once the oxygen supplied to the blood from breathing through the gills runs short, the tarpon has to tap into the energy reserves found in the muscles to fuel the fight. This disrupts internal electrolyte and acid-base balance, builds up lactic acid in the muscles, and dumps lactate into the blood–consequences that could affect the health and survival of a tarpon after release. 

Tarpon are one of the few fish that can breathe air. This allows them to thrive in oxygen-deprived areas. A common sign that tarpon are in the area is by seeing them come to the surface to gulp air. This is referred to as “rolling” as they appear to be doing a rolling motion. Juvenile tarpon will often be found in back bays in tannic, dead water. Given that they can breathe air, this allows them to remain safe from predators who do not venture into these areas. When targeting smaller tarpon, look for areas that have minimal currents such as canals or mangrove bays. 

While dinosaurs like T. rex and triceratops roamed terra firma during the Cretaceous Period (about 120 million years ago), ancestors of modern-day tarpon shared the ocean with other prehistoric fish. Mother Nature must have known a good thing when she saw it, because as far as evolution goes, the transformation of these early fish into Megalops atlanticus (the tarpon we pursue today) was complete about 18 million years ago. To put this in perspective, humans did not branch away from chimpanzee ancestors until 6 million years ago.One of the advantages of tarpon’s air-breathing behavior is rapid recovery of oxygen debt, as the oxygen level in air is higher than it is in water. This explains why tarpon roll at the surface during an extended fight. Their air-breathing ability, combined with their extensive gill surface area, also reveals exactly how tarpon are capable of these long fights.

The tarpon’s remarkable physique exemplifies evolutionary adaptations for coastal marine environments. You’ll notice their streamlined body covered in large scales, giving them their “silver king” designation and optimizing hydrodynamic efficiency. Their physical characteristics include a distinctive upturned mouth with an expansive gape, perfectly engineered for capturing prey in mid-water environments.

These fish demonstrate remarkable oxygen adaptations through their specialized swim bladder, which contains respiratory tissue similar to lungs. This unique feature enables them to extract oxygen from air when water conditions are hypoxic. Their substantial size potential, reaching up to 8 feet in length and 300 pounds, is supported by a robust skeletal structure and powerful musculature. The homocercal caudal fin and single dorsal fin facilitate their agile movements in coastal waters.

This adaptive respiratory system enables tarpon to maintain ideal oxygen levels, particularly when they’re engaging in energy-intensive feeding activities or encountering oxygen-depleted environments. Their ability to gulp air and process it through specialized tissue provides a vital survival advantage.

Featuring highly specialized ocular adaptations, tarpon possess remarkable visual capabilities that enhance their predatory success and survival. You’ll find their large eyes are optimized for keen eyesight, particularly in upward and forward directions, essential for locating potential prey. Their sophisticated visual sensitivity enables juveniles to detect dark blue and green wavelengths, while adults can perceive shorter wavelengths, improving prey identification across different life stages. The presence of reflective cells in their retinas maximizes light capture, allowing efficient hunting even in turbid conditions. Their ability to detect ultraviolet light facilitates both prey detection and intraspecific communication. These visual adaptations work synergistically with their surface-rolling behavior to optimize oxygen needs while maintaining effective predatory capabilities.

Lactic acidosis in tarpon can occur due to the strenuous exercise they undergo during catch-and-release fishing, leading to an accumulation of lactic acid in their muscles. This physiological stress can disrupt their internal balance, but studies show that with proper handling and quick release, many tarpon can survive after being caught.

Jason did not give us all that information at once like professor would rather, he doled out the facts of life of a tarpon during lulls in fishing. So we began to see this fish in a different and new way since I knew that neither I or John had the research on our target species prior to us flying down to Ft. Myers and driving down to Marco Island. All we knew was the incredible fighting capabilities of tarpon. So learning about tarpon, how  they live, how they have survived so long, how those big eyes work for the tarpon’s survival, how they have adapted to their environment and so on was fascinating for us as anglers.

So the fight continues between John and his first tarpon (and mine vicariously since I was so focused on how John was doing.) So as John fought this first fish, I was, also, trying to learn how to best fight these fish from Jason’s prompts and John’s techniques in the midst of this fight. What a fight, it was! It was classic display of a tarpon doing all the things a tarpon does to rid himself of the hook including the rolling behavior near the boat. Jason said during the tarpon’s first roll to get ready for another sizzling line-stripping run because right after a roll like that, a tarpon is able to get oxygen from the gulp of air and gain some strength back to fight on. After about twenty minutes, John could feel that the fish was getting easier to manage as he muscled in towards the boat. All the while, keeping a tight line on the fish. Jason did mention one other thing about fighting these fish and that was as you feel the rod and reel go a little slack that was sign the fish was going breach the waters surface and to point your rod directly at the fish so as to give the fish some extra slack as it was getting ready to breach. This rod pointing at the fish’s position was a double-edged sword since as you give the fish some slack to tail-walk and leap you risk losing him as he furiously shakes its head while out of the water. But this did not happen with John’s first fish. John brought the fish closer and closer to the as the runs became shorter and shorter. Jason at this point was leaning over the side of the boat and grabbing the leader on the line as the fish struggled mightily against Jason trying to get the fish near enough to remove the lip-hooked fish. After several attempts, Jason was able get it close enough to remove the hook and was holding it in the water while I took John’s rod from him and John was able to lean over the gunnels with Jason as he held the fish with his thumbs inside the huge mouth, gripping the lower jaw. John was able to slip his thumbs into the same position as Jason and John was able to feel the power and strength of this fish, directly. The mighty fish showed he still had some gas in his tank because as John was holding him, he violently shook his head while John had his thumbs in his lower jaw and was gone. The immediate exhilaration of the moment was felt by both of us as the fish swam away. I cannot tell you how high we were, right then and there but we were both high-fiving each other and hugging each other in our moment of pure joy that only other fishermen with the bug would know how happy were were. So John and I broke from our hug and then we both realized, at the same time, that no matter what happened the rest of day, we did not get skunked which was even more significant to us. 

Wednesday, June 18th, 2025

After much celebration which included both of us dancing around and the cracking open of a congratulatory beer, we soon calmed down enough to concentrate on the business at hand which was catching another fish. The emotions we felt in those moments was the elation of not getting skunked and the excitement of boating a live tarpon. Any fisherman worth his salt will tell you that not getting skunked was huge especially since we had both traveled a long way to get here so that moment, knowing that we did not skunked was mondo, to both of us.

As I write this, I was reminded of another fishing incident in John’s fishing life. It was several years back now when John flew in for a bachelor’s party and a wedding of a friend from Denver who had subsequently moved to Texas. John and the boys had decided that it was be a good idea  (fueled by an excess of alcohol) to take out the boat, load up with beer and go fishing. From the photos taken that day and night, there must have been five or six guys who came in from all over to party and be at this guy’s wedding. According to John, the boys had decided to go “noodling” for catfish. Noodling is a specific way of “fishing” for catfish. Noodling for catfish involves finding the shallower portions of a lake or river and using your hands while standing in the water and feeling your way along the shelf adjacent to to shore or along a riverbank for a hole. This hole is where a catfish has dug back into the mud a hidie hole..I do not know why they do this, maybe to escape predators or maybe they dig these holes just to “sleep” or rest. So the groom was experienced at this type of fishing for catfish. So that afternoon, he got out of the boat and was searching for a hole as the rest of the crew kept the boat near him as he searched for a catfish hole wading in the water. So the fishing technique involves, finding a hole and then using your hands to explore that hole and hopefully finding a catfish, hiding up in there. Using your hand, you then wiggle it around until find the mouth of the catfish and then grab it by the mouth by inserting your hand into the mouth of the fish and trying to dislodge it from said hole as you muscle it out of its hole. This usually involves a struggle as the catfish, finding this hand in its mouth does not want to go, willingly so it puts up a fight not to be dislodged from its safe haven. Soon or later, depending on the size for the catfish, it can slowly be pulled out of its hole, fighting and struggling against the hand in its mouth. Again depending on its size, as you begin to extricate the fish from it hole you may have to use your other hand to control the fish so now you have two hands in the mouth and then it becomes easier to dislodge it, as you finally bring it all the way out and are able to  to lift it up above the water to the joy of those still in the boat and of course, you as well lifting and catching it you are able to see the entire catfish. 

So back on the boat, John observed the technique involved and decided it would be a good idea if he went next so jumped in the water while this particular fish was put in the boat by the groom. So began John’s hunt. As I’m told this story by John (the next day as he called me), John was a little hesitant about the technique but as is typical of John he literally jumped in with both feet. John is a No Fear kinda guy kinda like his Dad in that respect. So this novice noodler, began his hunt for a hole. He found one and using what he learned followed the hole back to fish and wiggled his way into the fish’s mouth and then the fight began. As it turns out, based on the photos taken at the dock later that night, it was righteously huge as opposed to the grooms fish, taken that evening and already in the boat. Since they did not have a scales to the dock, we will never know how big  or how much it weighed but in the photos John had to use both hands to lift it up to his chin as he posed with the catfish for the camera. From the photos, I could tell that the grinning boy in that photo was doing his best and using all of his arms strength to lift it up that high. John did tell me the next day when he called me that this particular catfish struggled so mightily that it drug him underwater, unexpectedly without John being able to take a breath and as the fish struggled against his hands he did not know if he could stay underwater a moment longer without breathing until just at that moment the fish gave up ground and John was able to surface and get a breath while holding the fish underwater with both hands. Even at that point the fish still had some fight in him but John prevailed and was able to extract him from his hole much to the awe of the boys in the boat when they saw the size of the fish. So they loaded John’s fish into the boat and called it day even though by that time it was dark out. As John tells it, there was some drunken confusions about where they were on the lake since by now it was dark out. So as they meandered around the lake trying to find the home dock, some bright fellow noticed the fuel gauge and they were quickly running of fuel. That will sober anybody up pretty quickly but soon the groom recognized landmarks on the shore and was able to guide them back to the dock and home and photos. 

The next day when John called me to tell me all about his noodling experience with the boys he was able to send me the photos from that night on the dock and I was blown away with the size of the fish and even more blown away by him noodling this sizable catfish. The groom, also, posed with John’s catfish at the dock and I could tell even though he was a big boy (a lot bigger than John) even he struggled to lift it to his chin. Once the call from John ended, I  was so excited with the photos, I ran across the street to my neighbor who is a big time fisherman on our Lake Lanier and told him the story about John and and how he noodled this big-ass catfish. He was blown away by John’s catch: first of all by how he caught it since he was familiar with noodling and second of all, by the size and apparent weight of the fish.

So back to the Marco Island expedition. Over the months prior to leaving for this trip, I experienced two fears: one was the fear that after traveling all this way that we would get skunked and the other one which I already mentioned is my potential inability to continue the fight with a tarpon and hand it over to John to finish the fight. Normally, I do not fear much of anything and this was true when I was working and in general but this was different. Since I am now 74 yo and have multiple health issues, I pondered these possibilities and as usual when it comes to fears about the future and events to follow, I know there is nothing I can do, in the present moment about them. So I am basically a guy that rolls with with the punches and adjusts to the present when it comes and I adapt and will overcome them and ultimately,, be successful. I knew this from hard-won experience over and over again, in my life so far. But every once  in a while, these two fears would creep into my consciousness in off moments and I would then ponderate on them and then my rock-solid belief in a positive outcome would kick in and I could move on past these fears and stay in the present moment and dismiss them from my mind since I knew there is not a damn thing I can do about them in the present. So now it was my turn to face the tarpon if we caught another one. So one fear was vanquished since we did not get skunked.

So we continued to patrol and troll this particular spot. Jason during these times was always casting based on what he saw on the same monitor that was replicated on the bow screen that John was using to cast with. Meanwhile, I was still struggling with learning how to cast with these rods and live bait. Some casts were OK but mostly they were pathetic I don’t mind admitting. So Jason taking pity on me showed how to pitch the bait from the side of the boat. Since I already knew how to pitch from previous times on lakes and rivers, I became adept at pitching the bait away from the boat. This meant that I could present the bait at passing packs of tarpon or a single tarpon when they disappeared from the side-scan sonar. This meant I could still have a decent chance of getting a strike although it meant that I could not cast well enough to hit the tarpon on the nose as Jason and John could. But I was still actively fishing. There were times using this method that I could feel the bait “getting nervous” as a predator passed by or was actively pursuing it. This happens for me quite a lot during both days of fishing so I was happy with my technique so much that I began saying to John and Jason that I was “pitcher but not a catcher.” When I heard myself saying that for the first time, I corrected myself because even though I was a pitcher of bait I was not a catcher and I was jinxing myself inadvertently meaning catching fish. So I amended my saying that by saying instead, “I am a pitcher but not a caster.”  John and Jason continued to cast and soon Jason got hooked up and it was my turn to experience a tarpon on the line. So Jason passed his rod to me and I handed my rod to John as the tarpon Jason had hooked went on his first run. Boy Howdy, was that a rush! So I firmly had the rod and reel in hand and the fight began in earnest. This tarpon exhibited all the moves that tarpon are famous for but we could tell it was a good-sized tarpon and full of vim and vigor since he was putting up a good fight. As the fight continued, I was able to get him close to boat a few times and we could see his beautiful silver sides as he rolled for more air and as predicted that then was followed by another line-sizzling run against the drag which was set perfectly. It became a see-saw battle between me and the tarpon. Just as I would bring him closer to the boat, he would run away from the  boat like spanked chimp. After about twenty minutes of this struggling and see-saw battle, it became apparent to me that I was gaining line on him each time and this was exhilarating, exciting and the “most fun you can have with your clothes on.”  As I have related in this piece, I have had many peak experiences in my life where I was experiencing much joy, much happiness and just good fun but those experiences paled in comparison to what I was experiencing with my first tarpon. These moments battling my first tarpon rivaled anything I had experienced to date. As past peak experiences go, this one rose to the top of the list since I was relatively sober and able to feel the raw emotion of the battle and immense power exhibited by this tarpon. My previous fear of not being able to be up to the task had vanished as the fight continued. I, now knew that I had the power, the drive and stamina to outlast this tarpon and ultimately boat this fish which I did soon enough. Jason was leaning over the side of boat, grabbing the leader, getting him close enough to remove the hook and slip his thumbs into its mouth. I gave John my rod and knelt down beside Jason and followed his hands to the mouth of fish and replaced his thumbs with mine and felt the power and strength of this tarpon directly. As soon as I had my thumbs in his lower lips, he struggled some while I held him and then with a powerful shake he was able the wrench my thumbs out of his mouth and was gone.

I cannot express with words how happy I was in that moment. All the pent-up emotions and the fear that I might come up short vanished in the moment. I knew that I prevailed in the fight and I had done all the right things in  how I fought this tarpon since I brought him in to the boat and had my thumbs in his lower jaw and felt the raw power of this tarpon. I was overcome with elevated elation knowing I still had it in me to actually get the job done. Once I arose from my knees and was able to stand, shaking with adrenaline, coursing through my veins, I knew right then and there, that I was a fisherman worthy of this tarpon and that realization meant everything to me, in that moment.

John and I high-fived and hugged each other as only fishermen who have fought a tarpon and won can feel. After we broke our hug, I let out a rebel yell at the top of my lungs. As I resumed my seat, still shaking, I thought how silly it was for me to doubt my abilities to be able to catch a tarpon, prior to taking this trip. A baseless fear, as it turns out since I did it and it was glorious, in an almost religious sense. The relief I felt in that moment was palpable and visceral.

I knew then that I could do this and that realization was magnificent and up-lifting in ways that can only happen to fishermen that had faced their fears and saw them as silly, in retrospect which I was a prime example of prior to taking this expedition. Still shaking, as I sat down and collected myself, I let out another rebel yell and it felt good. Shakily, I grabbed another celebratory beer and just sat there, still marveling at what had just happened. Meanwhile, John and Jason had resumed their casting and life went on., leaving me to process the experience. 

To wrap that first day, we went on  to catch and boat two more tarpon that Jason had hooked. And John took both of those fish since I was still coming down from my experience. I want to explain here that even though, it was my “turn” on what turned out to the final tarpon of the day, I told Jason to give it to John. Somehow, I felt that at the time, that I did not want color or contrast my very first tarpon with another one. I am not sure that makes any sense but nevertheless, that is how I felt even though I had fully recovered, by then from my first tarpon experience and I derived great pleasure from watching my son catch another one. After boating that final (as it turns out) tarpon, the water temps changed for the worse and the temps rose above the temperature where the tarpon we saw just would not  take the bait no matter what we did as anglers. We persisted in this spot, then ran to another spot and found the same story. Packs of tarpon and singletons would pass us by and we could not interest them in biting. So we took our lunch break and Jason tried another couple of spots but no dice for us but it was  still fun thinking we still had a chance at hooking one even though we all knew about how water temps can affect the bite. Even though, Jason tried his damnedest to get us another tarpon. After a couple of hours of this no-bite behavior, we called it day about 2:00 PM and headed back to the boat launch, fat, dumb and happy with the days results: four successful boatings of tarpon. We were ecstatic with what Jason had done for us as a guide which was put us on the fish, four times in one day. Looking back on the day as it unfolded, I remarked to John that we always had been lucky when it comes to our fishing together and this day was no exception. So we docked, thanked Jason profusely for a great day of fishing and said we would see him the next day, same Bat-time and place. We drove back to our place and unloaded and got in some much needed air conditioning. We stayed in the air-conditioning for quite awhile and then moved out the the shaded carport so we could both smoke while we yakked. I grabbed the digital recorder I had brought with me since I knew this session needed recording. During which, I fired up another kind of smoking material I had brought with me and then we started our patented traditional Q and A session. I became quite loquacious and expansive to all of John’s questions. We like doing this and it is natural for us to have these sessions. After about an hour or so of this, we both noticed that we were hungry but it was relatively late at night and since Marco Island was a haven for retired folks I knew a lot of places closed early but John using his magic phone found a pizza Joynt open so we called ahead and ordered a pizza to go and then drove to pick it up and then back to Goodland to pig out on it. We then ended our day by trundling off to our respective bedrooms, a set of two ecstatic fishermen.

Written on June 24th, 2025

Day Two

We got up early again and did all the things we did the day before, not knowing what this day would hold for us, as fishermen. We greeted Jason again, boarded the boat and went to the same spot for threadfin, filled the live well and and made the exhilarating run to another spot. Water temps were ideal and we were rested and ready. So true to form, once we got situated in this new spot, we began the hunt again. We did not have to wait long as Jason put one on the nose of a singleton and gave his rod to John. By now, we knew what to expect and this fish delivered in full measure. John knew what to do and after a seemingly short twenty minutes, he got the fish to the boat, Jason unhooked it and John did the thumbs thang and we released another tarpon to the wild, unharmed. There is always some fear that the man in the gray suit will attack and eat a weakened fish, whether it is billfish or a tuna or a tarpon. But we do our best while hoping that nothing catastrophic happens to the released tarpon. So we started out on Day Two with another boated tarpon. It was positive and significant sign or omen to us superstitious fisherman. So we trolled along for a while and John making accurate casts with Jason doing the same until Jason hooked up one. He handed the rod to me and I began what Jason had started. Boy Howdy was this fish different. For one thing, he was significantly bigger than any we had caught, to date and did he ever show it. His initial run against me and the drag was longer and stronger than my fish from the previous day. This tarpon had some serious acrobatics in his repertoire, as he demonstrated by leaping full-length out of the water at a fair distance from the boat. It was then that we knew this fish was way bigger than anything we had caught before. After the initial run, I tried my damnedest to keep the line taut against him while he made these long runs. Soon he was dragging me around the boat. I made a total of four circuits around the boat, all the while watching him make the most outrageous leaps and moves to shake the hook. Somehow, I managed to anticipate his leaps and point the rod directly at him when I thought he was going to jump again which he did again and again. Each time he leaped out of the water, I did my best to keep the line and rod on point. After the fourth circuit we made around the boat, I could feel him starting to tire but his acrobatics did not stop, although, at this point, he was closer to the boat than ever before. So we could see up a close and personal. His silver sides glistening in the sunlight as he made shallow passes by the boat. His acrobatics finally calmed down and we were able to see the length and breadth of him. He was big but not that big as we were soon to find out. But I will say that he gave me a fight that was memorable and honorable and a fight that lasted around 45 minutes which was a record for both days of fishing. Soon after these moments, I was able to bring him to the boat but he was having none of that noise because he would then go out on another relatively short run as compared to his earlier runs. Jason was in position, kneeling over the side of the boat to grab the leader four times. Each time I thought I had him in position for Jason to grab the leader, he would sprint away from the boat. On the fifth try by me to boat him, Jason was able finally grab the leader and unhook him while holding him by his lower jaw. He submitted to this docilely but he still was defiant and pissed off as I slipped my thumbs into his lower jaw. he gave me a moment to admire his glistening, silver-sided scales and his length and girth as he lay on his side, next to boat while gulping air. At that point in time, he gave a powerful shake of his head and was gone. We all knew that this fish had plenty of gas in his tank to be able to fend off any attempts by the man in the gray suit to pursue and eat him. I rose from my kneeling position and was overcome by rush of adrenaline and joy by the fight I had just experienced. Don’t get me wrong, during the fight, my adrenaline was at an all-time high but I had to focus and concentrate on keeping him hooked up and could not let my guard down at all during the last 45 minutes. But upon release, I could celebrate with John because we all knew this fish just based on his prodigious acrobatics and his willingness to never concede the fight all the way up to end were extraordinary. During the fight with this tarpon, Jason said, loud enough for both of us to hear that this tarpon was: “A Demon!” and to us all, this particular tarpon was just that. This fish was demonstrably acting as if he was possessed due to his long runs and repeated acrobatics. Watching him when he was next to the boat when I was looking directly into his eye, all I saw was a magnificent animal who refused to submit, ever. But in the end, he did and we righteously let him go, back into the wilds. What a fish! I could not get over this fight as I plopped down after hugging and high-fiving John. As I sat there, re-living this fight,  I let out several rebel yells in quick succession. As I drank down water, not beer, I knew that my fight yesterday had prepared me for this fish, today and was grateful and thankful for how this fish had fought and valiantly struggled against his fate. During our previous fights with these tarpon, John had remarked: “Dad, if these fish only knew that we were going release them in the end…” and his thoughts then took over since he knew that if they knew that, then we would not see them struggle so much and they would become docile which was a thing we did not want. So the remark just trailed off as he thought about it. 

Soon, Jason hooked another one and John took over from Jason, reeling and pumping. Another good tarpon but nothing like the demon tarpon we had just witnessed. As per usual, in our experience, this fish put up a decent fight and was smaller but full of fight and soon John was able to boat him after about twenty minutes. So this spot had produced for us and we broke for lunch. As before, the water temps had risen and we knew that this meant that the bite was off. But Jason had one more trick up his sleeve. So we stowed what was left over from our lunch and then we made a long, wide-open run to somewhere since Jason was close-mouthed about what we were about to do. When we arrived at our destination, Jason then revealed to us where we were. As Jason told it, we were at a famous sandbar, directly off of Marco Island. Apparently, this sandbar is a known spot where big and little tarpon use the sandbar to drive baitfish up against so the tarpon can feed off of them. So this sandbar is a haven for tarpon since they feed there and is known by tarpon as a reliable place to feed. As we trolled up and down, adjacent to this sandbar, we began to see packs and singletons passing us by on the side-scan sonar. John based on what he and Jason were seeing on their monitors, were making casts at these fish. All of a sudden, Jason’s bait was hit by something big as his line started spooling off at furious pace against the drag, Jason struggled to get to rod and reel to John and this fight commenced. Soon John and us could tell this tarpon was way bigger and stronger than any fish we had fought previously and we had confirmation when this tarpon leapt out of the water and it was huge. Jason estimated at that moment  since he was close to boat that this fish was maybe around 150 pounds which meant that John was in for an epic battle with this big tarpon. John battled this fish, back and forth as he leapt out of the water and tail-walked furiously trying to shake the hook. The battle went on and on as John tried to keep him hooked which he did. Minutes passed as John walked around the boat, trying to get line back on this tarpon but he was having none of that. As instructed when John could intuit and feel he was about to breach the surface of the water he pointed the rod directly at this big-ass tarpon. This went on for quite some time as this tarpon was pulling out all his tricks to lose the hook. He made long runs away from the boat further and further as John battled him, trying to get line back while still trying anticipate when he would  breach and tail-walk, furiously shaking his head, each time. This fish did this quite often as we witnessed. As this tarpon broke the surface and tail-walked laterally across the surface, we all marveled how big and agile he was. More minutes passed and John now had been on this fish for more than 45 minutes. This tarpon was way off our starboard bow and at a long distance from us when he decided to surface and tail-walk once again and John did not anticipate this one and this leap and head shake was successful since on this one he shook the hook and was gone as the line went slack. John immediately started cursing up and down one side and the other as he reeled back in the line. He was so focused and doing the all the right things with fish that he could not believe that this tarpon had outwitted him with what turned out to be his final successful leap, head shake and tail-walk. John began to calm down a bit as he reeled in his line, disappointed, for sure since up until that point he had done everything right. As a Dad, I recalled and said out loud to both John and Jason that as kid John could not stand to lose at anything with me and his brothers and in this moment, that fact of his childhood came out but now since he was older the disappointment of losing this fish did not sting so bad as before when he was kid. And to his credit, as a mature adult in that moment he was able to recover his equilibrium and immediately began switching his perspective and said that he fully appreciated the fight that this tarpon had put up and this reduced the sting of losing this fish. He was still disappointed in himself but not like when he was a child and I could see that in him, at the moment. I was proud of him immensely in that moment and told him so. So we fished a little more at the sandbar but got nowhere and decided to call it day and head back to the boat launch in Goodland. John would be able to tell the story of the big one that away as well as the fact that we boated four tarpon on the first day and three tarpon on the second day. All in all, we were both happy campers with our results and Jason’s guiding skills. As we  motored back to the dock at full throttle I reflected on our shared Father and Son tarpon trip and was well satisfied on how everything had turned out and was proud of John’ skills as fisherman and his ability to gain back his equilibrium when faced with his disappointment of losing the big fish. As we talked about the day’s events later on that night, we both agreed that it was momentary loss of focus on his part but he and I both agreed that the fish was so far away from the boat at that point and John had so much line out that he could not have anticipated that final leap and head shake, at least that is what we told ourselves that evening. Another thing that came up in our discussion of our two days of fantastic fishing was that as we sat there winding down from the trip itself and the days events that we both felt an almost surreal sense that what had happened to us was almost like it had happened to someone else, not us even though we knew with certainty that it had happened to us directly with an impact that was indelible in us both. Strange feelings that we both shared and remarked upon, in retrospect. Later that night after we got share of air conditioning, John used his magic phone to find us a place to eat and we agreed to travel to the far north of Marco Island to eat at the Snook Inn which turned out to be a great place to eat. So we drove back to Goodland with our bellies replete with good food and spent our last night together just yakking away very happy, overall with the whole trip and not regretting a single thing about it with the exception that John did feel the sting of losing that big-ass tarpon a tiny bit but not like he used to feel as a child. And as I reflected on the totality of the trip, I saw and embraced how important it was to do stuff that make you fearful even in minor ways and go out and test yourself just to know that ultimately you either do it with success or you fail, either way you can learn about yourself and that has to be good thang.