Too Big, Too Soon
Pompano Beach Pier, Pompano Beach, FL - August 21, 2004

My alarm screamed at 5am. I struggled to open my eyes. It was still dark outside my bedroom window. The first thought that drifted through my mind: "Why the hell am I waking up this early on a Saturday?"

After two separate days of fishing the previous week, I started to get hooked on a type of fishing I hadn't done much of in the past. Pier fishing. I simply hadn't known how easy and potentially productive it could be. My buddy Joe had been fishing piers for many years. He's the one who convinced me to wake up at 5am on a Saturday... a time in which I'm usually going to bed.

Earlier that week, I had finally purchased my own heavy saltwater gear. There had always been a multitude of rods to use or borrow from my step-father over the years, but now it was time to get some of my own. After talking with the fishing pro at a local Sports Authority for about an hour, I made my decisions. I purchased two identical Shimano Saragosa 14-30# 7-foot spinner rods with Penn Spinfisher 7500 reels, and a matching Saragosa 20-50# 6-1/2 foot casting rod with a Penn 113h Special Senator conventional reel. I loaded all three reels with Ande 30# pink mono. I've always loved fighting fish on light tackle, but my lack of a "landed" bonefish, tarpon, permit, or any of the top gamefish has really started to piss me off. Now, I'm in the "catching" mindset. Fishing from piers and bridges can be hazardous. Heavy, abrasion-resistant line can mean the difference between landing or losing a fish that heads toward the pilings.

I left home at 5:45am, stopped at a gas station to pick up some Red Bull and water, and arrived at the pier about 6:15. Joe had already gotten his lines wet by 6. The regulars had all taken up their positions with multiple rods reaching out towards the south of the pier. There are quite a few rocky areas surrounding the end of the Pompano Pier, most of which lie on the east and north sides. Snags and lost rigs are very common. I established my place looking due east at the end of the pier, rigged up, caught a few baits with my Sabiki rig, and launched my two spinners towards the Bahamas. I had never cast a conventional rod before, so I left it dry so I didn't look like a fool with a fresh bird's nest.

About an hour goes by without too much action. A few anglers were bringing up blue runners and small snappers, but nothing too interesting. The sun was rising on schedule, but decided to hide behind a storm cell on the horizon. The extended period of twilight eased the introduction of the blazing morning sun. This sunrise was one of the most impressive I've seen in a long time. With my little Cannon 3.2 megapixel digital camera, I snapped 5 shots in sequence that captured a 160-degree view of the horizon. I later stitched the images together in PhotoShop to create an awesome panorama. Next time I'll use my "big" Cannon G3 4MP camera to capture an even better set of images to piece together.

With the sun rising, the fish started to get active. Joe landed a nice 4# mutton snapper, and followed it up a little later with a 3# mutton. Several blue runners were being caught by other anglers almost as soon as their baits hit the water. Then... screeeeeeam! Something started ripping line off of one of the kids' rods. Stanley, not more than 14 years old, and his brother are regulars out on the pier. He handled the 4-foot barracuda like a pro. A few minutes was all it took for him to get the big cuda within reach of a drop net.

The fish were not the only things starting to get active. Lucky me. Little did I know that it was "Boy Scout fishing day" at the Pompano Pier. An annual event that I will be sure to avoid like a plague in August of 2005. Hold on... I'm marking it in my calender right now... The word on the pier was that there were about 250 Scouts, their troop leaders, and their parents expected to be fishing in their own little tournament. No kidding... it was like Romper Room with flailing hooks and a total lack of any sort of fishing etiquette, by both the kids and the parents. It amazes me how many people have no experience in the ancient and simplistic art of fishing.

By 9:30 the madness had infected every inch of usable railing space, except for the few places that us "serious" anglers had staked out several hours earlier. It got to the point where going to the tackle box or walking away for a minute to get some bait would be a "move-it-and-lose-it" proposition. Even casting became a chore with families parking their chairs in the launch zone of our heavy rods. Since I had recently seen Bill Engvall's stand-up routine on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour DVD, I couldn't help wanting to hand signs out to everyone that asked me a dumb question. About a dozen kids looked into my bait bucket and asked, "Did you catch those fish?" "No. I've trained the seagulls to catch 'em for me... Here's yer sign."

Not much was interested in the baits I had thrown out, so I decided to play around with the needlefish that were cruising around in the water below me. From my experiences in the Keys, I knew how to catch 'em. I also knew they were great barracuda bait. So, while the kid-iots were dropping 3/0 hooks and 2oz weights on whatever unsuspecting baitfish were under the pier, I pissed off a needlefish enough to take a hook on my Sabiki rig. I reeled in one of my spinners, replaced the dead pilchard with the live needlefish, and hurled the rig back out to the reef.

In my efforts to keep my lines free of tangles from the kid-iots, I noticed my needlefish-baited rod starting to stress. I turned on my tunnel vision to block out the distractions within my personal space, picked up the Shimano/Penn spinner, and flipped open the bail. I tuned the drag for the 30# line on the reel, closed the bail, waited for the slack to tighten, and set into whatever was running away with my needlefish. My drag sung that sweet song as I heaved into a good hookset. Whatever it was, it wasn't real estate or a little blue runner. The line dance started as I tried my best to avoid all the other lines cast out off the pier. I knew the chances were high that I'd hooked a big cuda, but never would have guessed that it was a monster snook that snacked on my needlefish!

I yelled over to Joe to bring the drop net. The big snook decided to take catch-and-release into his own terms, and headed for the dreaded pilings. I lost sight of the linesider under the pier, then felt that sickening feel of dead weight as the line wrapped around one of the barnacle-encrusted pilings. Hoping for the best, I relaxed the bend in my rod to minimize the effect of line abrasion. For about a minute I figured I'd lost any chance of landing the biggest snook I've ever hooked. With my luck over the years, I almost expected to lose him just like the several tarpon and bonefish that have evaded me in the same way. Luck chose to grant me a little of itself this time. I felt the tug and smoothness that only a piling-free line could feel like, and the big snook leisurely swam out from under the pier towards the net Joe had lowered. With a little bit of guidance, the fish was in the net and being hauled up. The gathering of onlookers behind me was far more than I had noticed while fighting the fish. Good for the ego, but bad for the mechanics of the situation. Luckily, most of the crowd stepped back as the net was swung over the rail onto the deck. The hook kindly waited until this moment to let go. Joe reached down, grabbed the jaw of this monster and picked it up. Hell, I was amazed I actually landed this beauty! He handed the fish over to me, then took some photos as I held the snook up like a prized trophy.

The snook measured in at 40-inches! Sounds good, right? Well, not as good as it could have been. Unfortunately, snook are illegal to keep until the season opens on September 1st. I was 10 days too early. On top of that, Florida laws state a "keeper" size restriction of between 26 and 34 inches for snook, so I would have had to release this lunker even if it were in season. Too big, too soon. Bummer. Snook is damn good eatin'! I released the fish unharmed, received a few compliments from my fellow anglers, baited my hook, and kept on fishing. Now that I think about it, I realize that snook was the absolute very first fish I caught on my new rod. Cool.

The Scout infection lasted another 2 hours. Several of the regular anglers got fed up, packed up, and left because of them. The ones that remained were bringing in snappers, blue runners, and even a small stingray. Joe had found a spot were small Cero Mackerel were biting, and managed to catch a few. I only caught one other fish, a Rainbow Runner... well, that's what Joe called it, but I think it was just a large blue runner. I've caught rainbow runners on the reefs off of Palm Beach, and they looked totally different than what I caught on the pier. Oh well. It still tasted pretty good!

The crowds had finally dispersed. The afternoon was rolling by slowly. The fish had stopped biting. The sun was hot and high in the sky. It was time to call it a day. I packed up and left the pier at about 3:30pm. That was the end of my first full day fishing at the Pompano Beach Pier. I will go back soon. Snook season opens September 1st!

-->Bill Buckley

parrothead1973@mac.com

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