South Florida is famous for its snook fishing.  Through the warm summer nights,  these sought after game fish sit under the dock lights waiting for a sleepy shrimp or glass minnow to enter the beam of light from flood lamps mounted to docks just for this purpose: to attract Snook.

This suites my exercise program very well as I prefer to row nights in the summer heat.  Not only is it cooler, but I often have the Inter-coastal to myself, surreal and abandoned for South Florida, a reminder of the undeveloped Florida of my youth.  At night, the many mansions that line the river are gracefully illuminated, providing enough light to feel safe but not detected.

Occasionally a few Tarpon join the Snook for the nightly feast.  Just at the turn of both tides, you can find fisherman casting into the shadows. Problem is, these Snook are pretty wise to the typical spin caster’s presentation, and they are very hard to trick. 

I think we’ve found a way: a fly, well presented in the drifting tide, especially from the quiet, stealthy Heritage, is something they are not used to.  Place it under the dock and it is deadly!

The row to good fishing grounds is as much a joy as the fishing. 

 Rowing at night, one tends to use different senses than daytime.  The eyes do much less– sound and touch are your primary senses.  The oars, the touch of the blades to the water,  The feel of the rhythmic strokes, is so mesmerizing it seems to me to lend itself to longer outings.  In the day I typically row 45 minutes to a couple hours.  At night, 4-6 hours on the water is typical… I just don’t want to quit.  Of course, I’m usually rowing half that time and casting the other half. 

Some nites I’ve caught a dozen Snook, others one or none, but I’ve never returned to the dock anything but refreshed mentally, well used up physically, blessed and thankful.

My last trip was on the way to the Palm Beach Boat Show.  My 7 year old son, Chase,  was along, a tremendous treat for me.  We left the dock about 10 pm to time the tide changes.  My son is a good little rower and was excited for his turn at the oars at night.  It was his first time.  The still night was a little intimidating to him at first, but once he was on the oars, he completely forgot his fears, caught up in moving the boat at what seemed record speed. 

We rowed a couple miles to the first dock I knew to hold Snook.  And we weren’t disappointed, we could see several fish outlined in the dock light.  I took a few casts to the side, to get the distance right, then laid a glass minnow fly almost perfectly next to a pole.  Two or three strips and WHAM! the fight was on.  Chase couldn’t believe we had a fish on that quick (neither could I, thank you Jesus, for making my son’s night!)

Now the test was to start.  Hooking snook this way is the easier part.  Keeping them off the barnicle-covered pilings is another story.  But this guy turned seaward for me and I was able to get him to the boat in deep water.  Chase handled the net– a nice 24 inches.  Now he wanted a chance.  At 7, I haven’t really had time to teach Chase to cast a flyrod.  And pitch dark is not a very good classroom.  He tried for a couple minutes, then we switched him over to a spinning rod.  We had some shrimp with us, but as I suspected, the Snook just weren’t to be fooled–they’d seen this presentation too often.

Having spooked this honey hole, we rowed up river to find better pickings.  I returned to fly fishing and managed a few more nice fights, but my rowing partner was losing interest.  I made him a cozy bed in the bow of the   Heritage and he quickly fell asleep.  Watching my son sleep quietly in the cool night air, the silence of the night, rowing with a mixture of peace and adrenaline, what a perfect night.

It was about 2 am when I slipped back to the dock.  I carried my sleeping son to the truck, loaded the Heritage and headed for the Hotel.  How did I get so lucky?