The Pleasure of Fishing: Lesson learned

Overwhelmed ... that's how you feel when you first see the array of rods, reels, fishing line and tackle that confront you as you make your initial entree into the tackle shop. Where in the world do you start?

Surely, the friendly folks behind the counter will recognize your bewilderment and ask an opening question like, "what type of fishing will you be doing?" That's a great place to start.

Thinking about what species you'd like to start with and equipping yourself so you're in synch with fishing targets. Since this is billed as "sportfishing" you'd want to make sure that the equipment fits the situation i.e. the lightest tackle and the lightest line with the lowest breaking strength to manage landing your fish without causing it's exhaustion.

Even if you're keeping your catch, that principle is important, since until you put your fish on the ruler, you don't know if it's keep or release. Give the fish the benefit of the doubt.

But that doesn't always happen.

All charters hereabouts, furnish all the rods, reels and tackle that are specific for your trip; light equipment for backwater trips and the heavier stuff for offshore. But every once in awhile, you'll get a customer that arrives on the dock brandishing a armful of personal rods and reels that they'd like to use. No problem; the customer is always right! Correct? Here's an instance where the answer to that inquiry is "maybe not."

We'll call our fishing star Sam. He arrived with three of his buddies for a morning trip with his two rods neatly stowed in a rigid container and his reels in a matching tackle bag. I knew I was in trouble right from the start.

As we left the dock, Sam was busy at work assembling his weapons with painstaking care. He had light rods probably rated for 8- to 15-pound test attached to medium size reels loaded with braided line.

Sam asked if I'd rig the tackle on his equipment and as I did so, I noticed that the line was formidable.

"What pound test line is this Sam?" I asked.

"Well, it has the diameter of a ten pound line but the breaking strength of a twenty-five pound line. I won't be finishing this day moaning about a break-off, you betcha." Even some of his buddies gave him a "endearing" glance on that verbal pearl.

We were fishing the docks that morning and the redfish were very much in evidence. Most were undersized puppy drum, but we had managed a few keepers.

Sam was fishing the front of the boat and I was in back tending the three buddies, when I heard Sam's drag scream. It screamed for so long that I excused myself and joined Sam in the front.

"Must be a real lunker, huh, Sam?" "Not really," he shot back "it's one of the smaller ones but I have the drag wide open. I just love the fight these redfish put up. I want to make the fun last." I could hardly imagine that statement and he had almost no reaction when I mentioned that he was, in essence, killing a releasable fish.

"That fish will fight to total exhaustion and no matter what we do to revive him at boatside his chances are slim to none. You ought to tighten down on that drag, matching your line test, to bring the fish alongside. Now." Sam just looked at me. I repeated the last word, again and he reached and took a couple of turns on the drag. When the fish came in he was motionless and even with a quick dehook and an elongated revival technique alongside the boat, he floated off upside down.

To Sam's credit, after seeing the aftermath of his fishing foreplay, he tested the drag on both rods now setting it to somewhere between the diameter strength and rated strength.

Everyone in the boat learned a valuable lesson on the balance between line strength — drag settings and survival of your quarry.

But, that day didn't end there. There always seems to be a force that makes things even up, and Sam was about to experience that axiom up close and personal.

We were almost finished for the day and fishing a dock close in to an oyster bar with nice outgoing current. Sam was still in the front of the boat, when we all heard a yelp and his drag (set properly) screaming.

Just then a big snook took an airborne leap some twenty yards off the boat and took off in the direction of the dock. Sam was almost hyperventilating as he yanked and cranked trying to stop the snook from a sure cut off on the dock piling.

Then he did the unimaginable, especially considering the circumstances of earlier in the day. He tightened down his drag knob tight.

That little light rod with a 8 to 15 pound rating never had a chance with that 25 pound rated braid. The sound was like a rifle shot, as the graphite rod disintegrated snapping the line and releasing the snook.

They weren't smiles on the buddies faces ... they were more like smirks. Sam had seen both sides of the parity between line and rod in one compact morning.

Hopefully, it taught by experience ... set the drag to the line strength and not to exceed the rod's rating.

Sam will be glad to give you lessons!