In Wicked Wilma's Wake:
Idiot Sportsmen Go Hog Wild off Key West

by Chuck Bunce

November 2005... In a stunning example of Blind Pigs stumbling onto the Mother Lode, the aging but serviceable IS sent a shock wave through the fish population around the reef off Key West. Having endured 3 postponements due to Hurricanes since July, the randy trio of fisherman converged on the lower keys in the wake of Big Wilma to try and salvage an otherwise under fished year, … and damn near did just that. Even the usual undisciplined behavior of certain of the IS party (more about that later), couldn't stem the flow of primo fish into the boat.

Bart and I met in Lauderdale to drive down and were shocked at the hurricane damage and debris. Wilma clearly rocked the Keys world. Continuously, all the way down Route 1, people's lives, in the form of trash and flooded remnants of furniture, appliances, mattresses, etc, were stacked in piles along the side of the road for eventual pickup and disposal. If any of the Keys residents, Conchs, etc, had become hurricane complacent, Wilma set them straight, and scared the shit out of them. Key West itself took a terrible pounding with certainly several thousand homes, from waterfront mansions to mobile homes, taking 3 or 4 feet of water from the storm surge and looking at a very long and expensive recovery period. Longtime KW residents, who never thought it would come to this, were giving up and moving North.

Mark was due at the kW airport (EYW) conveniently around cocktail hour so Bart and I had a quick reorientation tour around a weirdly deserted kW Even Duvall was quiet. It was great for us but somehow alarming because we like this place and tourism is everything here.

We picked Mark up and began our chemical onslaught, intended to sharpen us up for our morning assignation with fishing destiny. Mark owns property in kW and was very lucky to not get flooded when neighbors across the street, did. Certainly we needed to celebrate.

A fairly stiff breeze the next morning led us ultimately to Garrison Bight and the heavier charter boats, all hungry for charter after a devastating several weeks. Most had just started to go out again after a month of storm related inactivity. We chose the "Hooked Up" with Capt. Jim and headed out into the 2' to 4' chop. The plan was to troll ballyhoo deep and artificial squid (Marks favorite) on the surface inside and outside the reef and see what we could find. Well we found everything. Big Grouper, Mutton Snapper, 'Cuda, Mackerel, 'Jacks. We caught fish until our arms were tired and then some.

At one point, when Mark lapsed loudly into his self-aggrandizement mantra of "Yes, Biggest fish, Biggest Snapper, Biggest this and Biggest that", comments were heard around the boat like "Biggest Mouth", "Biggest Blowhole". I can't imagine what makes him act like that when my conduct in similar situations is impeccable. I always try to be sympathetic and supportive of my inferiors. Anyone who has witnessed any inflammatory, obnoxious crowing from me should be assured that is for purely motivational purposes to spur on my underachieving cohorts.

This fishing is to closely attend the trolling rods in your vicinity and, at the slightest dip of the tip, jump to and start reeling. At a point when the hook is set you sit down in the "fighting" chair while the Mate takes the rod and jams it down between your legs, hopefully in the rod holder, and you attempt to bring the fish to the boat for landing. Much is made of the skill, or lack thereof, which is evidenced throughout this process. In reality, in most cases the fish is hooked when he strikes the bait or not. It does, however, make for fierce intra-Idiotsportsmen criticism and obnoxious displays of bravado.

It would seem that these fish would be overmatched by the multi-ton boat, trolling tackle, etc., and some clearly are. But those occasions of a hard strike, when you feel incredible power as the hook is set and the line goes shooting away from you against a firm drag as the fish runs, you just have to say "Goddamn that fish is awesome". Then as you finally bring it to the boat and see it is a 3' Black Grouper or a 4' 'Cuda it is all the more unbelievable, the power of these fish. You either have to quickly release unharmed or eat what you kill in order to show the deserved respect.

Anyway it had to be a Top 10 of all time, fishing day. Certainly enhanced by the excellent Mate on the "Hooked Up", Ben, who runs his own charter in Maine in the summer and works out of kW in the winter. Extremely knowledgeable and forthcoming.

That night we took a ton of fresh Grouper and Mutton Snapper to the Half-shell Raw Bar and had them cook it for us while we slaked our thirst and checked out the scene (waitresses, etc). Fabulous Day.

So good in fact that we opted for a rerun the next day when conditions looked the same (Winds 15 to 25, 2-4' seas). We found Hooked Up available and did it again. Good day but not quite the action of Day 1. A couple more keeper Grouper, many throwbacks, big 'Cuda, mackerel, some missed strikes (I'm ashamed to admit). Oh well another fabulous day with similar dinner implications.

As we would return from dinner, cruising around kW, we found it remarkably subdued. Usually the frenzy up and down Duvall spills out all over downtown and can be a real entertaining freak show. This week was supposed to be combining the infamous gay-oriented Fantasy Festival, where exotic costumes and extreme behavior are on raucous display, with the Parrot-Heads Convention of Jimmy Buffet-world, which had been postponed from the week Big Wilma roared through. Normally this would be quite a spectacle. Well not this year. Even the come-on from the girls outside the IS curiosity piquing Scrub Club was ultimately not compelling enough. Although the vote to pass on it was not unanimous.

The next day, and last fishing day, we had reserved a charter with Capt. Rush Maltz and his Odyssey, for a decidedly different kind of fishing. We were looking anchor up and use light tackle in pursuit of the delectable and game Yellowtail Snapper. This is best done under calmer conditions in a smaller boat and we were fortunate to have the wind lay down to less than 10, which in my experience is about as good as it gets down here.

After netting some bait in the flats near White Street pier we roared off to the reef and set up. After a little chumming we had a churning mass of fish behind the boat and took a few Blue Runners (a non-edible "trash" fish that Mark seemed to specialize in even when others were taking 'Tail) but didn't see the telltale golden glow in the water of a school of Yellowtail. We moved on and set up further west down the reef next to a commercial boat that was about to quit for the day.

They had a teeming, churning cornucopia of fish activity behind their boat, with 'Cuda and sharks streaking through the mass of feeding fish, including the desired golden glow. It's interesting that the Yellowtail don't really mix with the main body of other fish in the chum line. They stay together, off to themselves. It is fascinating to observe and fabulous fishing, free-spooling drifting bait back into the frenzy. When you get it right it is almost a fish on every drift which is an excellent fighter for his size and as delicious as anything on earth. Truly a beautiful thing. We probably took 30 and could have taken 100. We even quit throwing live or cut bait and threw top-water lures which were eagerly taken. A genuine IS fantasy.

That night we were joined by one of my daughters (Marley) and her boyfriend (Jon), who were in town for a friends wedding. They were amazed at the delicious sautéed Yellowtail filets fixed for us at Capt. Bobs. I think Jon had a good time in spite of the grilling that Bart and Mark gave him. They have known Marley from birth, detected a potentially serious relationship brewing and were determined to test Jon's worthiness. I think he held his own.

One of the things you notice about kW, after Wilma, is the trees. Normally so green and flowering that you take it for granted. Other than the palms, most have either had their leaves blown off or had absorbed salt water from the roots and killed the leaves. Many magnificent old trees stand denuded or with dead brown leaves, and far fewer birds around. I expect it will all come back but, for now, Wilma continues to work her wicked ways many days after passing through.

One group of Key West residents that Wilma had obviously not been even seriously inconvenienced was the chickens. The strutting roosters continue to loudly crow their superiority and defiance all night long. These things are so tough the cats and dogs don't mess with them. At least not more than once.

Well, after a morning walk out the newly reopened White St. Pier, it was time to return to the world. Two out of three of the days, however, were Top 10 days. Maybe even Top 5 and the third was even excellent. With outings like this it gives us encouragement that in another 10 or 20 years, we might get good at this.