One Day At A Time

You have cancer.

Those are the words that a good many folks will never have to hear. For some reason I thought I’d be in that group. I don’t really know why, it was just a feeling.

Wrong. At first I thought it was going to be a different diagnosis. Perhaps just a very serious flu or perhaps an infection I’d picked up from a fish bite or nick on the finger. I’d read about that and I’d heard about the “flesh eating” stuff that was very dangerous and had to be treated right away. But cancer? Not a chance.

It really did come out of the blue. So many survivors and people in remission have said the same thing. “It came out of nowhere. I wasn’t even sick and then...”

The only medicine I’d ever taken on a regular basis was Advil. I used it for the normal aches and pains of being a fishing guide and for the occasional over imbibing of alcohol, which had become less and less with age. You learn your limits as you pass your sixtieth birthday.

Cancer changed that. Now I take nine different medications to control everything from blood pressure to pain to infection to nausea and my ability to pee. I also take another as part of my daily chemo and then get a chemo shot twice a week. I then add 10 steroid pills taken all at once each Friday. I haven’t taken an Advil since my diagnosis in late February and I haven’t had a cocktail since then either. How’s that for irony?

Until you have cancer you have no idea what a person with cancer is going through. I thought I could sympathize with such a person but no, I couldn’t and can’t. It’s much too complicated. It’s hard to understand all the feelings that come with the diagnosis and it’s almost impossible to put it into words.

I do, however, understand what the support group is going through because I’ve been there, several times. I’ve lost a couple of good friends to cancer and I’ve also helped rescue a couple. Each time is different but it all adds up, just the same. You are on the outside looking in and the inside is impossible to fully understand.

One day at a time becomes the new mantra. The future is much too fickle and feels unreachable. It’s not, but it feels that way. One day at a time. That’s where I am right now. One day at a time.

It Was THIS Big

I love to fish. While catching big fish is fun, it’s not important to me. I no longer need to prove myself by bringing the biggest fish back to the dock. Some anglers do and that seems more like the person that has to have the biggest car or truck with the biggest engine. Perhaps he’s trying to make up for a shortage elsewhere.

If the body of water I’m working is giving up small fish, so be it. I’m good with that and I’ll downsize my tackle to match the catch. It’s the act of fishing and not knowing what’s on the end of the line that makes fishing fun for me. It’s the mystery of it all and the mystery of being surrounded by the great outdoors.

I also don’t need to report a catch of “40 redfish.” I just love the fisherman that starts the bragging by giving his last outing a number. “We caught 62 redfish yesterday and we were only out for three hours.” I’d like to point out that mathematically that’s one redfish every three minutes if you spread the catch out over the three hours. That would be really tough even on the very best day. Heck, that would be tough on any day. A solid redfish bite in this neck of the woods would be about 15 over the three hours.

Honest.

Carrying The Flame For Dean-o

Originally published 2007

My good friend Dean Hicks passed away in May. He was the owner of Reel’s Inc., a custom rod and tackle shop located in San Carlos Park. He was also the distinctive voice of Reel Talk Radio, a call-in fishing show that continues under my direction each Saturday morning from 7 to 10 on 99.3FM.

While we all amass a great number of acquaintances in our lives, we usually only have a few folks we call close friends. It’s tough losing one.

Dean-o and I met about 5 years ago during the initial manatee zone battles. He was invited as part of the press to go on a boat ride to look at the proposed new zones near the mouth of the Caloosahatchee River. I was the captain that day and Dean-o, in his usual way, introduced himself shortly after arriving on board.  I’ll never forget it. It was like we had known each other for a lifetime. He had a knack for making you feel as if you were the most important person in his presence, even on a boat full of press and politicians. He sounded and looked like a pirate but it became obvious to me that there was much more going on than met the eye. We talked about the manatee situation, about fishing and about the business of fishing. He told me about his radio show and his shop and encouraged me to stop in and see him. I’m glad I did. What began as a business relationship soon developed into a friendship.

We had a lot in common. Both of us were military veterans, we loved the water and conservation of the resources, and we were both doing our best to raise daughters that are almost the same age. We had a lot of great talks and debates. I’m going to miss those the most. But most importantly Dean-o got me involved in the community. Oh, I had donated a fishing trip or two for good causes and I had sent my dues to the Coastal Conservation Association, but I soon learned that that was the tip of the iceberg in Dean-o’s world. It was an eye opening experience and one that I have continuee to carry on in his absence.

I implore you, the reader, to also do your part. If you love southwest Florida and you love to fish or recreate in this great playground of ours, then you need to pay attention to what’s going on around you. There are very important issues on the table right now concerning boating access to Everglades National Park and we are still fighting the battle of water releases from Lake Okeechobee. There is much to be done and it’s not going to get done by itself.
   
Dean-o is going to be greatly missed, not only by his family and friends but by the entire community. His tireless efforts to make this a better place to live and fish will be carried on by those of us that knew him, and I for one, will make sure that the flame never goes out. 

Dean-o, Peace my friend and catch big fish.

Time On The Water

I really miss fishing.

No, I mean I REALLY miss fishing. I’m surprised. I’ve always done a lot more watching than actually fishing while on one of my charters. As a matter of fact, charter fishing is really the act of taking others to find and catch fish. So I was surprised how much I miss the act of fishing.

Maybe it has more to do with the surroundings than actually wetting a line. I love the view. I love my office. It’s ever changing and almost never looks the same from day to day. Perhaps that’s it. I’m not sure.

I started fishing when I was boy. That was back in 1959. I was six years old. My Dad took me to the old Clearwater Beach bridge that had been turned into a fishing pier. The first thing I remember catching was an octopus. It tried to climb up the line to the rod and then proceeded to squirt ink everywhere. When you are six years old it doesn’t get much better than that. I guess that’s where it all started. The simple curiosity of what might be caught on any given trip. That mystery has never left me.

I’ve lived and breathed fishing since 2001. That’s when I started fishing full time for a living. The longest stretch of days in a row on the water has been 41. That’s right, 41. At that time I was booking every day and only taking time off for bad weather. We had a very long bout of beautiful weather. I was praying for rain about day 30 but it just wouldn’t come. Here’s the funny part. The break in the good weather was four days of rain and wind. About day three I was actually starting to miss the water. It still feels that way, especially now.

I went to the hospital on the afternoon of February 25th. I’ve been off the water for 40 straight days. Hard to believe.

I REALLY miss it.

February, a tough month to fish in southwest Florida

Originally published in February 2007

When I’m asked the question about what month is my favorite one to fish, I almost always pick two; May and October. Both are transitional times of the year when the days are getting longer or shorter along with the end or beginning of the rainy season. Fish are on the move and hungry. They are usually easy to find, plentiful and predictable; the total opposite of the month of February.

Ah, February…  It’s a tough one. It will sometimes make you wonder why you took up the sport of fishing in the first place. I feel pretty certain that the old saying, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a day and it will change,” was coined to cover February in southwest Florida.

But it’s not an impossible month and with a little time and perseverance, fish patterns can be recognized and taken advantage of. Here are a few of my observations and I have hopes that this will help you in your endeavor to master the ever changing month of February.

Let’s start with the inevitable cold fronts of arctic air that manage to make their way to southwest Florida. As the cold weather approaches, the barometric pressure begins to drop. Fish, and most wild creatures, are quite susceptible to this and begin to feed with a great deal of urgency. They are storing up energy in hopes of making it through the bad times when their food source may disappear for several days. They’ll eat almost anything that swims or crawls by and are usually less guarded about their surroundings and predators. Needless to say, it’s a great time to fish. Virtually any lure you use, such as artificial, live bait, cut bait and flies will work, and the worry of color and presentation is at a minimum. I like to go a little bigger in bait profile when fishing before an approaching cold front. Remember, the fish are trying to fatten up, so give them what they are looking for. One of my favorites is cut ladyfish. Big trout and redfish love it.

The first couple of days after the cold front are the toughest for fishing. The winds are usually blowing out of the north at 15 to 20 mph with gusts to 30 mph. The fish have left the open bays and grass flats for safer and deeper cover. They usually move to warmer water found in the bottom of pot holes and cuts. They are slower to feed because they are cold blooded and their metabolism slows with lower water temperatures and they don’t need as much food to survive. However, they will eat. My go-to post cold front bait is live shrimp. Not the big stuff; the smaller to medium ones. Use a small lead head jig to help get the shrimp to the bottom and then cast it into holes and drop-offs. Move it very slowly. Fish don’t want to chase bait when they are cold. You’ll be surprised at how well this works on even the worst and coldest days.

Several days after the cold front passes the waters begin to warm with the combination of sunny days and incoming tides from the Gulf of Mexico. The Gulf waters are generally warmer than the bay water after a front, and the tides help deliver this water to our near shores. About 3 days after the front moves through the area, try fishing in the bay areas located close to passes and open Gulf waters. One of my favorites is the Bunche Beach area located near the Sanibel bridge. It’s pretty well protected from the north winds and has a varied bottom structure with deep water located in close proximity to shallow sand bars. As the water temperatures rise the fish will stage and feed there for 4 or 5 days before heading to their old haunts in the backcountry. They are more active during this time and will readily eat live shrimp and artificials that imitate the small baitfish found in the area. Try using a small sized Yozuri Crystal Minnows in light, bright colors.

Don’t be afraid to give February fishing a try.  It’s not as simple as angling in May and October but the sport of fishing wouldn’t be fun if it wasn’t a challenge.

Capt. Rob Modys