“No kidding,” I said as I gawked at the gorgeous, golden-silver fish-eatin-machine, “that was absolutely the best fight I’ve ever had surf fishing!” “They are colored differently than inshore reds, and they fight a whole lot harder.” Michael said as he handed me the beautiful, almost silver, redfish. Michael reeled in his line, scooped him up and got the rowdy red under control. After a few more screams from my Stadic, the red had tired enough for me to pull him into shallow water, and Capt. We could see several reds following the hooked monster as he ran up and down the sandbar, and Capt. The pig red immediately started stripping line, and my reel screamed like a four year-old with a skinned knee! I had learned the hard way about rod tip management in previous excursions and focused on keeping the line tight as I fought the fish and the waves. I cast straight at him, and he must have caught it in his mouth because as soon as the bail on my reel clicked, he was on. The tide was coming in and had started pushing over the main bar into the lagoon when I saw a big red heading a group of smaller ones patrolling the surf. We had seen a couple of black drum and a group of large reds patrolling in the surf, and we cast constantly wherever we thought they would be. Michael stated as he began to cast again. Michael stood there holding his Hardy 11-weight fly rod, staring at the water in utter disbelief.
Michael had journeyed a little farther out onto one of the fingers that ran into the surf when I heard him exclaim as a monster red had hit his sand flea and then spit it back out. We continued walking about 10 yards apart as we scouted the main bar that ran parallel to the shoreline. Michael said as he gave me a high five that was worth about fifteen, “Now it’s my turn!” After three or four good reel screaming runs, the fat 24-inch red had finally tired, and I was able to scoop him out of the surf. BAMM! Fish on! I’ve hooked redfish before, but this ocean red fought like none I’ve landed. My gulp curly tail minnow landed about three feet from the fish, and he instantly went for it. “There he is!” I exclaimed as I cast in the direction of the golden silhouette. As the tide comes in, they will make their way over the bars and into the lagoon.” We were about knee deep in the surf when I saw my first redfish. “The reds will come in through the surf and start pushing up these little channels. Michael started telling me about his experiences there. As we began walking towards the surf, Capt. We were packing light, carrying only a rod and a spare lure or two. It was low tide, and we anchored off one of the bars in a little lagoon that was filled with baitfish. The bars ran out into the ocean about a quarter mile from the island’s periphery and had numerous channels and fingers that extended further into the surf. Our destination was a group of sandbars that skirted the perimeter of a nearby island. All you need is your light spinning rod and some tackle.” As soon as I heard that, my level of excitement rose greatly in magnitude, and I practically ran back to grab my gear. We’re going to sight fish for reds in the surf. “Do I need my surf rods and stuff?” Capt. I get amped up, and the anticipation gets me moving.” “I thought we were surf fishing,” I said with a bewildered look on my face. “Are you early, or am I late?” I asked as I speed walked towards the boat. Michael was already at the ramp sitting in a beautiful 18 foot Hells Bay. I was walking along the shoreline and looked over and saw that Capt.
I had stacked my vehicle the night before with everything I thought I would need for reeling in a rowdy red and had arrived to the boat ramp about 15 minutes early in order to catch some live bait. To me, surf fishing always conjured images of giant surf rods, live bait, lounge chairs and cold beers, but after this angling adventure surf fishing has changed forever in my mind. He told me that he was going surf fishing to scout a spot where he had caught some monster redfish previously, and we agreed to meet on Folly Beach early in the morning. Michael Bruner ended with an invite to join him scouting for reds on his day off.
15 foot outbank fishing surff pole professional#
Have you ever wondered what a professional angler does on his day off? Ninety-five percent of us work all week so that we can jerk lips on the weekend, but what if that is what you do all week long? I recently had a chance to see for myself when a serendipitous phone call with Capt.
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