Is it worth missing a snowstorm?
I suppose we will soon be getting our first snowfall. Some folks dread this annual initiation to Jack Frost’s dominance, but I get excited. Yes indeed, I’m like a youngster about snow. All kids love snow. Just ask them. I think ageing and adult life jades us weather-wise, too many mornings, coffee rushed, scraping windshields and clearing soggy clogged driveways for the daily commute. Kids embrace their environment. They love the day before them, and make the best of it. We need to be like that I think. So I love snow.
Also I love the tropics where it never snows. Goldie hates winter and someday would like to weather its full duration in Florida. For my part, I could handle it I suppose, but I would miss my snowshoeing, winter hunting, and winter camping. I’d be watching the weather via computer, and wondering and daydreaming about snow and snowstorms. There’s something so comforting about hunkering down for a blizzard with a warm crackling fire. Then there’s the cleanup, plowing with my quad, and finally off to the cabin for a snowshoe hike on the fresh powder. A gift from the gods, fresh snow and a clear blue sky, it’s the nearest thing to heaven. I’m not sure about missing winter, even for sunshine, sand, and salty warm ocean.
But you know what? The fantastic fishing just might convince me. Seven or eight years ago I missed a damn fine Newfoundland early March snowstorm to fish bonefish in Turks and Caicos. The plan was to get a decent story and break into the saltwater fly- fishing media market. I ended up with a full feature story in American Angler so it all worked out well. The bone fishing was absolutely amazing. I’d never seen anything like it before. At one point in the day, standing
to my knees in warm tropical seawater, I could see at least a thousand bonefish on a shallow sandy flat. The water covering them was no more than eight or nine inches deep. Amazing, now that’s my kind of fun in the water, sun and sand.
There are surely folks reading this column that have placed Atlantic salmon on the pedestal of hardest-fighting fish on planet Earth. In fresh water that might indeed be true. But saltwater is totally another quintal of fish. Just about every game fish I have caught in the tropics and Florida fight harder than salmon. It’s true. You need to try it. Take your fishing rods with you next time you get sick of shoveling the driveway and book a flight. If you are going
south and love fishing, you have to give the angling a go. It’s what makes missing the snow bearable, for me that is. But there are those who need little inspiration other than the sun and beach, Goldie included.
I have caught big fish in the tropics, jacks, snook, roosters, tarpon and more. But pound for pound nothing fights like a bonefish. They are not big, ranging from about three to 10 pounds. Double-digit bonefish are a real prize. Can you imagine a three-pound fish that can snap a 12-lb tippet like sewing thread? The power and speed of these creatures is absolutely mind-boggling. You set the hook and hell’s fury is instantly unleashed. There is never sulking, no provoking runs. Immediately, as soon as steel penetrates flesh and bone, an explosion of wild ferocity sets your reel spinning madly.
You cannot halt or subdue a bonefish’s initial run. You must keep your rod skyward to cushion the strain and clear your fragile line from outcrops of coral and rock. There are typically many obstacles. This double salmon pace blitz will take you into your backing for sure, probable several hundred feet if the fish is rotund. Then you reel in line and stride across the flat to catch up to your fish before it sets off again with afterburners ablaze. Usually a bonefish will make three runs before tiring. It is an amazing experience to tackle one of these wonderful creatures.
Turks and Caicos has plentiful big bone and that’s why I was there. Goldie came along and she loved the sun, sand, and mid 80-degree F winter temperatures for their own sakes. And she couldn’t care less about missing a snowstorm. I didn’t mind missing just one, more and I’d have mixed emotions. Anyway back to the fishing.
I think the day I fished the offshore island flats of Turks and Caicos might have been the top day of my fishing life. For sure it is was in the Top
5. Fish after fish burned up our reels. My fishing partner, Robert Glenwright from New Brunswick, literally had his reel blow apart in his hands. Screws, springs and parts flew off and landed in the salty ocean, the smaller variety amidst the sand forever. Wow, good thing we had a spare rig. We ended up catching at least 50 bones between us, all over five lbs and a few hovering around and over
10. Now that’s some day fishing. The gods smiled upon us. I got over the snowstorm.
I also had my closest ever encounter with a big shark, walking alone in its path. Stay tuned for that one, a great snowstorm read for this winter.
There are surely folks reading this column that have placed Atlantic salmon on the pedestal of hardestfighting fish on planet Earth. In fresh water that might indeed be true. But saltwater is totally another quintal of fish. Just about every game fish I have caught in the tropics and Florida fight harder than salmon.