Fishing on the coldest morning of the year

I was out the door by 6:30 this morning. As I drove down to the Snell Isle Secret Spot the thermometer on my dash registered 42 degrees. Chilly.

I parked and quietly assessed my spot. The wind was blowing at a pretty good clip, so I walked down the seawall and fished back toward where I parked, thereby keeping the wind to my back. I was fairly warm except for my hands, which were freezing.

I fished the hole for about 10 minutes, and then decided to head back to my car to warm up. Nothing was biting except the wind.

On my way back toward home, I decided to do some scouting of the eastern side of Coffee Pot, which I'd yet to fish. I saw some cast netters along the seawall, looking dejectedly over the bayou. The tide was dead low, and the only thing they could cast for was barnacles and mud. When I reached the end of the seawall, I circled back toward the bridge. Just as I was about to turn onto the bridge, I looked out and saw a school of fish feeding in the middle of the bayou. I backed up, parked, and pulled out my gear.

I said good morning to the cast netters, then climbed down the seawall to a large piece of concrete, hoping the few extra feet would help me cast far enough to reach the feeding fish. My first cast was woefully short, so I reeled back in as quickly as I could and fired out another cast. This one went long and straight, and on my second jerk of the Yo-zuri I felt a bump and hooked on to a nice ladyfish. It jumped five times before self-releasing right in front of me.

I casted back out and proceeded to land four ladyfish in a row, two in the 16 inch range and two 20 plus inches. The largest one I measured at 21 inches. The cast netters were giving running commentary of my catches, including critiquing my cast distance, rate of retrieve, and time required to land each fish. It was entertaining.

One of the fish I foul hooked, and by the time I got it in, the hook was well wedged just below the dorsal fin on the ladyfish. My fingers were so cold from getting wet and being exposed to the air that it took me a few minutes to get the hook out. (Note to self: Start carrying pliers. Honestly.)

The sixth fish I caught jumped six times before breaking off my line at my feet. I watched dejectedly as it swam off with my very favorite and best producing Yo-zuri (green back, gold sides).

That's $20 in lures lost in less than 24 hours, but when the catching is good, it doesn't seem to hurt quite as bad.