Adventures with Sharks....On Fly

The fantail of the shrimp boat rose from the water and settled back in with a small wake of whitewater. Chris climbed to the bow of our twenty-eight center console and peered over the side into the crystalline, blue water.

"Dude, nothing down there," he called over his shoulder.

The Lowrance said differently. High-tech electronics that are accurate to mere millimeters have taken 'sight-fishing' to new levels. The display showed half-inch long orange and blue LCD images that betrayed the school of fish under the boat.

"Are you sure Chris?" I ask. "Throw some chum over; let's see if we can see if someone is home."

As I said it, a navy hat with a Yankees emblem waddled along the gunwale of the anchored shrimp boat. The deck hand walked to the fantail, oblivious to our boat and crew, and threw the morning trash overboard. A few white, congealed particles of scrambled eggs weaved their way through the water before getting gobbled up by a couple of remora relaxing in the shade of the far side of the shrimper. A plastic bag, like the scene from American Beauty, danced on the surface, along the edge of the shrimper, and then around the bow and T-top of our boat before taking flight across the mirror calm gulf. As he disappeared into the blackness of the shrimp boat's cabin, the deckhand tossed a red Coca-Cola can overboard. The red can drifted astern bobbing on the waves and spinning in the light breeze.

"There he is," Scott said.

From behind us, a five-foot bull shark materialized out of the ocean wilderness. He swam lazily towards our boat and, in ways only a shark looking for food can do, swam like a dog with his nose in the air on point to the fantail of the shrimper looking for a free hand out. He swam a few lethargic circles searching for a few morsels; then he saw the red can.

One learns a few things from sight cast fly fishing for sharks. They have moods. They are moody. They broadcast their moods. When the shark arrived and swam his languid laps around the dinner table, he was not ready to feed. He was testing the waters for competition and for a better and easier source of food. His comportment spoke of investigation, not annihilation. However, like one of Hemingway's bulls, once he saw the red can his entire personality changed. I like to call it the 'back arch.' The shark's entire body goes rigid and he swims solely with his powerful tail. He swam to the can and nudged it with his nose.

"Grab the double-handled Temple Fork," I said.

I never head offshore without a pre-rigged shark rod. I always rig it one of two ways. I have a Terry Hayden IV anti-reverse reel that can pack on a marathon-esque 800 yards of backing, a Scientific Angler Tarpon Mastery Twelve-weight fly-line, down to a twenty-pound leader section with a sixty-pound Cortland Toothy Critter bite guard. The fly, tried and true, is always a six-inch red and yellow deceiver tied on a gold flash underbody. The second way I rig it; I place a popper head on the red and yellow deceiver.

Now here is a secret and where I always get in arguments with other fly guides, I tie ALL my offshore flies on circle hooks. Typically, when one does battle with an offshore fish, they are going to be in the fight for a while. Why not let the fish set the hook. Besides, with the aggressive, slashing attack most offshore fish strike with, the circle hooks, I have found, have drastically higher hook-up rates over traditional hooks.

Chris grabbed the rod and stripped out forty feet of line. Chris is an excellent fly caster, however, offshore fly-fishing usually only calls for a twenty to thirty foot, in the ballpark, cast-no accuracy required in feeding frenzies. He took one false cast and laid out a hooking, tailing loop that landed behind the shark.

"Let it sit; wait for him to turn around."

The shark continued swimming away from the fly.

"Strip really hard. Three, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM's," I said.

He yanked the fly-line, the weight of the fly straightened the line, and it hissed as it parted from the water. The shark zigged to his left. STTRRRIIIPPP. He turned and frantically zagged back to the strike zone searching for the source of the vibrations. STTRRIIIIPPP. The shark found his mark and eyed it suspiciously.

"Now strip in fast...make him mad."

Chris stripped the fly in and started his false cast.

"Put it about twelve feet in front of him and ten feet past."

The line looped out and landed perfectly to the shark's two o'clock about twelve feet away.

"Strip!"

Chris tucked the rod under his arm and stripped the line hand-over-hand as quickly as he could. The shark did not have to search this time. He pushed a pressure wake in front of him and his entire back shone in the dry air.

"I am on," Chris said. The reality quickly set in, "I am on."

I wish there were but there is no magic way to coach the fight with a shark. The first hour, yes hour, or so is his battle. You are merely there to hold on and keep pressure on the fish and the rod. Sharks will build a lot of lactic acid and at times during the fight will use their body weight to rest. This is where the angler must bend and reel to gain line.

Once the fish gives up the fight and comes along side, I use a j-knife to cut the leader. I never gaff the fish or bring it onboard. Sharks are vicious and unpredictable and the dangerous elements of an angry shark can leave permanent remainders. I have the scars. However, there is no fish more fun or challenging to land on a fly-rod. Take one on this summer.