Flats Guy Goes after Grouper

By Capt. Mel Berman

It’s been about a dozen years since I made the switch from offshore to back bay. But them, when the opportunity presented itself, I jumped aboard the luxurious 26-foot World-Cat, skippered by Capt. Sam Medigovich’s. And, just like riding a bike, I still had the touch!         

Hernando Beach — For those not familiar with the grouper, it’s a is a large member of sea bass family, an abundant and tasty tropical fish species found in waters throughout the Southeast U. S. and many areas of South and Central America. Without question it is Florida’s favorite seafood species. The fillets are firm and white, with a very mild flavor. Most aficionados will tell you that grouper makes the best fried fish sandwich. It also is wonderful grilled broiled or any other cooking method of preference.

Though a resolute catch and release angler, I must confess that I was looking forward to catching and taking home one of these brawny bottom fish when the invitation was extended to go on a Gulf of Mexico grouper fishing trip. Following several years as an offshore charter skipper, I have over the last decade been an aficionado of the more benign and somewhat less challenging atmosphere of back bay fishing.

Yet heading out of Hernando Beach, Florida on this bright spring day aboard Capt. Sam Medigovich’s 26-foot World Cat, “The Rock-Boss II,” I was taken with the totally different atmospherics of an offshore fishing excursion.

The quiet twin 175 hp ‘Ficht’ Evinrudes effortlessly powered the unique catamaran hull through a two-foot chop at an impressive 40 miles per hour.

“About nine more miles to destination,” announced our skipper. “How long before we get there,” asked Pete Suick, of the venerable Suick Lures Company. “Shouldn’t take more than about 15-minutes more,” responded our other fellow passenger, Capt. Frank Bourgeois joining us on a sort of busman’s holiday.

As the GPS display indicated that we were now within 2 miles of our coordinates, Capt. Sam backed the engines down to trolling speed.

Deploying a Mann’s “Stretch 30” on a downrigger and a large Cisco Kid on a flat line, we trolled the rest of the way to our fishing spot.

At about 100 yards from zeroing out the GPS coordinates, the downrigger tripped, coming to life with what had to be a massive fish struggling for release.

Then suddenly the line went slack, as the fish successfully disengaged itself. “Well, the fish has to win one once in a while,” I said, quoting my good friend Capt. Dave Zalewski.

By then we had arrived at our designated destination, and Capt. Sam tossed out a large marker buoy. The depth recorder showed a 37-foot depth and some good hard limestone and coral bottom.

“Listen guys, let’s try drift fishing around the area before we actually anchor up and bottom fish” said the skipper.

With the tide still running out into an opposing westerly wind, we barely made any headway towards the marker. Each of us dropped our rigs down into the unusually clear waters. Mine was comprised of a 3-oz sliding sinker over a #3 swivel to which about 3-feet of 80-pound leader was attached, with a 5/0 offset Eagle Claw hook at the business end.

Dropping down a generous chunk of squid as bait, I could feel all sorts of critters nibbling away like a thousand tiny fingers as we drifted across the crunchy bottom. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before all our hooks were cleaned off.

“Tell ya what guys, lets try anchoring, ” said Capt. Sam. “I’ve got a good idea where they’re at.”

On command, Capt Frank deployed the anchor. “Let out all the line,” shouted the skipper.

“Now, since the water is so clear, we’re gonna set up several yards from the ledge. So you guys will have to cast a good distance to get your baits to the fish.”

“I think I’ll stick with the squid, ” I announced, flipping the bait out into the designated target zone.

Barely reaching the bottom, it took all of two seconds for some voracious creature to inhale the smelly goop off my hook. “I’ve got some live pinfish in the well.” offered Capt. Sam. “Just hook one of them below the dorsal fin and drop it down.”

Selecting a smaller pinfish, I again cast it toward the marker buoy, well past the ledge and worked it slowly back into the grouper zone.

This time, there was no doubt about it, I felt a powerful strike, instantly straining my line and putting a massive bend in the rod.

“Got one?” asked Pete, who was fishing on the other side of the stern. “I think so, and he’s one heck of a puller,” I yelled. At that instant, everything came to screeching halt. “Oh no! I think he got me hung up in the rocks.”

Meanwhile, up on the bow, Capt. Frank was reeling in our first grouper — a chunky 8-pound gag. “What a nice looking fish,” said Pete, who spent most of his fishing life pursuing walleye and northern pike. “That my friend is what a keeper grouper looks like,” explained Capt. Frank, and I caught him on frozen threadfin herring.

“Way to go,” said the skipper, putting the first of what would be several hefty fish into the well-iced box.

Now, it was back to my problem. That darned grouper by now had sullenly hunkered down into the rocky structure below. “What are you gonna do now?” asked Pete. “I’m going to use a little trick a Greek fisherman showed me during my years of chartering out of Tarpon Springs,” I said. “What’s that?” “Well instead of trying to horse the fish out, or “twang the string” like some folks do, I’ll just open the bail and let the fish have lots of slack.”

Then taking the line off the rod tip, I sat there patiently waiting to see if the big grouper felt sufficiently relaxed to swim back out of the heavy rocks.

“Wait a minute, I think the fish is starting to move out,” I shouted. Grabbing the rod, I slowly lifted it skyward. Than, gingerly cranking in the slack, I pulled the fish out of the security of its rocky haven. But now the fight was on!

Tacking in what line he’d allow, I could feel the powerful pull the tenacious gag grouper. “You got him coming,” shouted Capt. Frank. “I just can’t let him get back in the rocks,” I responded.

Finally, we could see the outline of the fish as it approached the water’s surface. “Wow, that’s a beauty,” shouted Pete. “That my friend is a grouper,” said Capt Sam as he reached down and hoisted the big fish aboard “The Rock-Boss II.”

“What do you say he weighs,” I asked. “At least 16-pounds,” replied the skipper.

By this time, our friend from Wisconsin was wresting with yet another monster gag. And yes, Pete Suick’s fish also found the ledge and was tenaciously hanging in there.

I’ll say this about this Midwestern angler, he is one fast learner! Emulating my successful grouper retrieval technique, Pete placed his rod in a holder on the gunwale and gave the fish copious amounts of slack.

Patiently holding the line coming of the rod tip, Pete got comfortable for a long wait.

Meanwhile, Capt. Sam, tossing a bucktail jig enhanced with a slab of squid, hooked up with yet another big grouper. And up front, Capt. Frank was also reeling one in after deploying a squid/threadfin bait combination into the target area.

Meanwhile, Pete was patiently sitting there just waiting for his big fish to come out of the rocks.

Suddenly, he felt that telltale tightening of the line in his hand, indicating that the big grouper was about to abandon the security of the ledge.

Handling his tackle as though he had done it all his life, Suick held his rod high and began cranking.

After a several minutes struggle, the hardy 72-year old visitor finally boated a twin to the big grouper that I had landed. “Way to go Pete,” shouted the crew.

The action continued for several minutes until the tide went slack. Now it was time to head back to the dock.

What glorious Florida day — what a productive fishing day! For me, it turned out to be a stunning reminder of why I originally spent so many years roaming the Gulf of Mexico.