A Tarpon Tail

During the hay days of giant tarpon fishing of the late 70's in Homosassa, Florida, it looked like a who's who of the fishing community on any given day on the flats of May and June. Lefty Krey, Carl Navarre, Billy Pate, Al Pflueger and about any other name that one might associate with the fly rod. Everyone had the same interest at heart, to be the first one to break the 200# barrier for tarpon on fly.

I had spent the last several summers in this area and had seen some real monsters in the air. For a tarpon to break the 200# mark, it would have to have a girth of around 43" and a fork length of nearly 7 ½ feet. When a tarpon of these proportions comes out of the water next to your skiff, it is not something that you will soon forget. It was not uncommon to hear stories of these behemoths on a regular basis during these times, and occasionally one of the guys would relate a tale of woe that usually ended with broken rods, lines, tippets and spirits. This meant that the king still lives. Stu Apte, a long time fishing and hunting friend, and I made our annual pilgrimage to Riverside Villas to pay homage to the silver king. Most of those looking for the first 200# tarpon, used 15# tippets and later when I.G.F.A. introduced the 20# tippet, they upgraded. Stu, never one for doing things the easy way, always used 12# tippet. In my opinion, Stu is the master of that line class. We have put a number of records in the book using 12# tippets including a 164# tarpon that stood for many years. I had no reservations about using this class tippet for our quest of the first 200# silver king.

We had spent some time in the white vastness of the area known by the locals as Oklahoma, with only mild success. As the number of boats began to increase, we had decided to relocate to St. Martins, slightly to the north of the Homosassa River mouth. There was only one other boat working the area and if the fish were there, they should be more cooperative.

Soon we spotted a school of backs, forming a familiar "donut" shaped daisy chain in the glass calm water. As I quietly polled the boat towards the school, our polaroid glasses allowed our vision to penetrate the surface glare. As the shapes began to take their familiar forms, we both noticed one particularly large shadow. With the expertise that only comes with years of experience, Stu placed the fly just inside the donut, and slightly ahead of the approaching giant. As the fly began to sink, a smaller fish of perhaps 150#, surged ahead and grabbed the fly. Stu refused the urge to strike and as the smaller fish felt the unnatural drag of the fly line, surged forward, shoving its head through the smooth, reflective surface of the water and with a rattle of its gills, dislodged the fly. We held our breath and to our surprise the school continued their circular course without any reaction to the disturbance. As the giant came around to our side of the circle again, Stu placed the fly in exactly the same position as the first presentation. As the distance between the fly and the fish diminished, I noticed an ever so slight movement of the fly and then another. My eyes were glued to the area and when the two targets merged, and the only thing that I could see was a giant silver head, I yelled to Stu to, "Strike!". As I looked to my right, I noticed that Stu had already perceived my thoughts and was already well back on the rod. Stu was clearing the line that was on the deck as my eyes raced back to the now skyrocketing giant. "Bow!" I exclaimed. My eyes raced back to Stu only to see that he was already yielding the rod to the fish.

For some unexplained reason, every time that one of these giants form Homosassa inhaled a fly, it reminded me of a mule eating a grain of oats. They were just so big. We were now hooked up to the mule and we were about to plow the lower 40.

The fish was fairly aerobatic and the fight stayed somewhat in the general area, however we had asked the other boat for permission to use our motor to follow the giant. When the other boat saw the size to this fish, he graciously consented.

After about 45 minutes, Stu had the fish slowed and it appeared that there was a rhythm to its roll. I told Stu to maintain the pressure and I was going to try to gaff the fish if I had the chance.

I had straight gaffed many sharks up to and over 400# and I was not afraid of a little old tarpon. With gaff in hands, I had only to wail for the old gal to show me her weakness. Sure enough, she started her head towards the surface and as her back broke the surface, I reached across her back and with both arms, drove the gaff home. Instantly I felt the power of this giant as she surged forward and down, taking me down to the gunwale with her. Still holding the gaff, I rotated my body so that my knees were able to lock onto the gunwale. I was upside down, with everything from my waist up, under water, with my arms fully extended, still holding on to the gaff. She was still there. I tried to pass the gaff to Stu, but as I pushed the gaff up towards the surface, the butt of the gaff struck the bottom of the gunwale, allowing the tarpon to roll off of the gaff. As I rolled over and pushed myself back up on the deck, I could see that Stu was already back at war with the giant.

Things quickly settled down and the old gal started rolling with a rhythm once more. Again with my gaff at the ready, I began psyching myself for the battle of brute strength that was about in ensue. As her back showed itself above the water, I thrust the gaff home. Again but even faster, the giant surged forward, taking the gaff and myself into the open water. I felt the water rushing past my face and I could feel the skin on my cheeks rippling through the water as the fish dragged me behind it. Suddenly the fish shot to the surface and began a series of leaps. As I opened my eyes I could see the magnificence of this creature as it dragged me with it and continued to leap in a circle, due to the drag of my body in the water. Finally as the giant settled down, I was able to pull her in close to me where I was able to grab the point of the gaff with one hand and the back side of the gaff with the other. This effectively pinned the fish on the gaff. I was doing a dead man float while waiting for Stu to bring the boat to me.

We were using my skiff and there was a slight difference between Stu's boat and mine. My binnacle control (throttle) was mounted on a sloped face of my console so that when the throttle was brought to the neutral position, the leaver was pointed perpendicular to the console face, or slightly towards the rear of the boat. On Stu's boat, the binnacle was mounted flat on top of the console so that the leaver was pointed exactly vertical when the motor was in neutral.

Stu was concerned that I might be in trouble as my face was under water and brought the boat to his downed comrade with haste. As he approached, he brought the throttle to the vertical position, which would have been the neutral position on his boat, but not mine. As the boat continued forward, Stu, now near the bow, raced back and found the neutral position for my boat. As the stem of the boat started passing over my head, I reached up and with my right hand, fended the boat from running over me. The boat pushed me down and to my left. I felt the fish roll on the gaff but to my horror, I had taken my right hand off of the gaff point, allowing the giant to roll off of the gaff. I quickly reached for the gills of the tarpon but the gloves that I was wearing were covered with slime and the fish was so slick that my fingers failed to penetrate the rear of the gill opening. The giant began to swim slowly and I now tried to get my arms around her girth. My arms fell flat on smooth sides and would not even remotely reach around the girth. I felt the giant slowly slide through my grasp and as the tail slowly slid through my arms, I watched from under water as she slowly swam away.

Stu and I never discussed the weight of that fish until over a year later. While at dinner one night, one of us brought up the subject without mentioning what we thought the giant might have weighed. Stu suggested that each of us take a piece on napkin and write a weight on it and compare the numbers. We each did so and each turned over the napkin at the same time. The numbers were exactly the same, 230#.