Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

While commonly taken by anglers in some regions, many are unfamiliar with the John Dory (Zeus faber). But the distinctive appearance of this strange fish make it tough to confuse with other species.

There are only a few species of dories in the world, by far the most common and important species being the John Dory (and, no, I could find no credible attribution for the odd name). It’s found around the coasts of Africa, Southeast Asia, Australia and New Zealand, and areas of Europe. John Dorys are laterally compressed — in shape rather like a lookdown — with deep bodies and large heads. Generally brownish, a very large black “eye spot” at the center of each side is a unique characteristic.

Particularly striking is the mouth, at least when fully extended. Then one realizes how huge it is — an oversized, long protrusible tube. That allows it to fin slowly near a fish and vacuum it in, as seen this video — but don’t blink at the wrong times or you’ll miss the moves.

Its super-narrow profile bring its eyes close enough together to give the John Dory the binocular vision that many fish (with broader heads) lack, allowing it to track and judge distance to prey just in front of it.

John Dory can be found from 15 or 20 feet out to several hundred, and while they do hang out at times over smooth bottoms, they tend to prefer the structure of reefs and rocky areas. Here, anglers can target them with small live baits or soft plastics. Just avoid rearing back to set hooks (if not using circle hooks) since their soft mouths tear rather easily.

Why do anglers target these fish? Simply, they’re prized as topnotch table fare. They’re important commercially in areas, as well. A good one is a few pounds; the IGFA all-tackle world record stands at 9 pounds, 1 ounce, from Mercury Bay, New Zealand, in 2016.

The post Fish Facts: A Hoover Vacuum With Fins appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

“We jigged up this fish from around 270 feet of water,” wrote Capt. Fernando Almada (Catch 22 Fishing), based in San Carlos, Mexico, at the upper end of the Sea of Cortez. “We had been jigging up smaller fish, mostly snappers, and suddenly hooked this grouper. It fought hard at first, then became dead weight.”

Almada said they do encounter these fish, which are called baqueta locally, “but we usually see them smaller than this, often brown, not with the deep red color.”

“What species is it?” Almada asked Salt Water Sportsman.

So we consulted an expert on fishes of California and Baja, Dr. Milton Love.

He said: “That looks like a very large gulf coney (Epinephelus acanthistius), which, as you noted, are usually called baqueta in the Gulf of California and points south. ‘Acanthistius,’ by the way, means ‘sail spine’ in Greek, an apt name for that big dorsal fin.”

They’re seldom caught north of Baja, but are fairly common on both sides of the peninsula. “These are solitary, rocky reef dwellers,” Love said, which probably don’t travel over a large area. “Unfortunately, gulf coneys are very heavily fished wherever they are found and are clearly overfished in the Gulf of California.”

Almada said that they did not weigh the fish, but figured it topped 40 pounds, closer to 45. That, Capt. Alamada, means your anglers ate a likely IGFA all-tackle world record. For the gulf coney, the record stands at 32 pounds, 5 ounces, taken off Huatulco, Mexico, in October, 2012.

The post Fish Facts: A Red Grouper from the Sea of Cortez appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

The life history of most game fishes is pretty amazing. Although some species may grow to more than 1,000 pounds, all begin life as one of millions of eggs the size of a small grain of sand floating about an ocean full of tiny predators, following a full-moon spawning session. Of those millions, thousands may be fertilized, but of those thousands fewer than 100 will survive past the larval stage. 

They feed on tiny plankton, but are also fed upon by slightly larger planktonic predators. It is indeed a jungle out there in the open ocean. Growth, for the few that live, is rapid. Most larval forms of game and food fishes bear little or no resemblance initially to adults, often very different in shape and color, recognizable only to experts. They may resemble elaborate insects as much as fish.

As they grow into small juveniles, often characterized by oversized eyes, the babies begin to gradually take on more of the characteristics of larger, older fish. Few anglers ever get the chance for a close-up and personal look at game fish not much longer than a cherry tomato, so in this ongoing gallery of “microscopic monsters,” we’ll offer a rare look at a mini version of species most of us see as only adult fish.

This moray eel larva (top image) was photographed by Steven Kovacs during an open-ocean blackwater drift in the Philippines. (The little silvery “bug” is a marine isopod, a hitchhiker.) Identifying the species is a bit problematic, with 200 or so species of moray eel in the world and quite a few of those found in Philippine waters. In fact, by its looks, this larva could almost be a tarpon as well as a moray. Here’s how that works.

Morays are broadcast spawners. When the infinitesimal fraction of eggs spewed into the ocean are successfully fertilized, like many species, they float pelagically about the ocean for months as larvae. But these are unlike most fishes’ larvae; when new to the world, morays take the form known as a leptocephalus. You’re right: They look nothing like you’d expect a fish to resemble. Surprisingly, some other fishes also have very similar leptocephalus larval forms, notably tarpon and bonefishes.

These larvae take the form of long, otherworldly transparent ribbons, flattened side to side, with a ridiculously tiny head. (The length of the leptocephalus in the photo is hard to appreciate, with it coiled rather tightly.) A clear glucosamine gel compound fills their clear bodies; this gel transforms into adult tissue during metamorphosis. See how these remarkable moray leptocephali swim here.

Clearly, these larvae bear almost no resemblance to adult moray eels.

The post Microscopic Monsters of the Ocean: Moray Eel appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

“Everyone can fish for fluke,” is how Bill Proulx explains the social media fervor stirred up by his 15.3-pound pending Connecticut State Record summer flounder. The everyman fish is one of the most popular and prolific target species for inshore anglers from New England to the mid-Atlantic. When Hillyer’s Tackle Shop released photos of Proulx’s fish on Facebook, the post received 366 likes, 164 shares and 74 comments. “I’m not technically savvy, but the story went on a website and my phone has been ringing off the hook!” explains Proulx.

Proulx, a retired police officer from Ashford, Connecticut, was fishing with friend Ed Pyle in the Atlantic Ocean out of Four Mile River Marina in Lyme. Proulx is an accomplished angler and diver who targets a wide variety of fish, but flounder fishing is one of his favorite pursuits.

The guys left the marina at 4:45 in the morning and had been fishing half a day before catching the big flounder. “We had a limit of sea bass and two 23-inch flounder,” he adds.

Proulx and Pyle were drifting rocky structure and patches of sand in 80 feet of water one mile offshore. “The current was slow, so I was using a 100-gram Daiwa Rock Rover with a strip of squid and a fresh spearing.”

Proulx works the jig by lifting the rod tip in five to six quick jerks and then letting the lure fall. He varies the speed of the jigging adding in longer pauses. “A lot of times the fish hits on the pause.”

While Proulx was fishing, his son Ryan, who runs Blue Runner Charters out of Westerly, Rhode Island, was also flounder fishing 100 miles away on Nantucket Shoals. “All day he was sending me photos of the fluke he was catching.” Proulx had just put down the phone after receiving another flounder photo when the big fish hit.

Proulx measured the fish and weighed it with a hand scale. “I threw it in the cooler and kept fishing.” After he returned to the dock, Proulx used a more accurate scale and realized the fish weighed 15.3 pounds, making it a potential state record.

Local tackle shops were closed, so Proulx stored the fish in brine and tried to sleep. He laughs, “I was up until 1 am researching the process for registering a record.”

The next morning, he took the fish to Hillyer’s Tackle Shop. He was relieved the fish still weighed 15.3 pounds. If approved, it will break the current Connecticut state record of 14 pounds, 13.76 ounces caught by Michael Maffuci off Fishers Island in 2019.

Details Matter

Proulx says flounder fishing comes down to little details. He uses 50-pound fluorocarbon with his flounder rigs. “Not only is fluoro more difficult for the fish to see, but I like the abrasion resistance.”

He uses a soft action rod. “With a spongy rod, the flounder doesn’t feel pressure when it bites,” he explains.

Fresh bait is another key. When the squid are running, Proulx spends a night catching squid. “We caught 150 squid in one night,” he says. To prepare for flounder season, he freezes the squid in vacuum sealed bags.

When the current or wind are strong, Proulx uses a drift sock to slow his drift. “We had the drift sock out when I caught the big flounder,” he says. The drift sock allows him to use the lightest jig or sinker to hold the bottom.

Despite all his experience and preparation, Proulx attributes his trophy catch to luck. “I just put in my time and had my bait in the right place,” he says.

The post New Connecticut Record Fluke appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

The anglers that pulled up this fish off Pedasi, Panama, were stunned at its colors. They had never caught anything like it. Lodge owner Sam Wadman at Fish Pedasi hadn’t either, and sent the photo to us, noting that he was told by local sources it was something called a “saleema.”

However, salemas are very different fish, though superficially similar in appearance. The salema belongs in the family of porgies, Sparidae. It sports thin gold stripes over a silver body with no blue.

This fish certainly resembled chubs I’d seen in the northern Gulf of Mexico, though with none of these bright colors. Expert ichthyologist Ross Robertson at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute immediately identified it as a bluestriped sea-chub, Kyphosus ocyurus. They’re widespread in nearshore Eastern Pacific waters, where they also frequent floating logs and large debris offshore. The species reaches just over two feet in length.

The bluestripe is strictly a plankton eater. As that might suggest, this one was caught when the angler, cranking in a lure at speed, unintentionally snagged it. So, yeah: Not an IGFA-legal capture, but still a cool prize.

Americans are Familiar with the Bermuda Chub

Most Americans who are familiar with chubs likely know a different species, the Bermuda chub (Kyphosus sectatrix). The Bermuda chub is found in all tropical and subtropical waters and is known to eat anything — let’s just say they’re not real fussy. Besides eating benthic algae and small crabs/mollusks (which means that unlike bluestripes, Bermudas can and are caught on small hooks), they’re known to feast on whale feces. And other feces: I’ve observed big schools of them on visits to offshore Gulf oil rigs, where K. sectatrix hang about waiting to eat what comes down from rig workers, all sorts of garbage and human waste.

Hungry much for a Bermuda chub fillet? Surprisingly, a Google search will turn up many accounts of brave souls cleaning Bermuda chubs. Less surprisingly, apparently there’s quite a stench when one is cut open, then revealing nasty-looking gray-green meat. Nevertheless, the consensus among the intrepid eaters seems to be that once cooked, the meat is white, flaky and tasty. Go figure.

Still, I suspect that, just knowing what Bermuda chubs eat, most anglers would take a pass on any chub. But wait! Remember that bluestriped sea-chubs eat only plankton (not poop). So perhaps it’s not surprising that Robertson tells me, “While other chubs have dark flesh that’s not particularly good to eat, K. ocyurus eats a completely different diet and has nice white flesh. I’ve eaten it and can vouch for it!”

So bluestriped chubs not only look great, but taste great too. Unfortunately, they’ll remain elusive for anglers. Time to break out those plankton flies.

The post Fish Facts: Is This Panama’s Most Beautiful Fish? appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

The life history of most game fishes is pretty amazing. Although some species may grow to more than 1,000 pounds, all begin life as one of millions of eggs the size of a small grain of sand floating about an ocean full of tiny predators, following a full-moon spawning session. Of those millions, thousands may be fertilized, but of those thousands fewer than 100 will survive past the larval stage. 

They feed on tiny plankton, but are also fed upon by slightly larger planktonic predators. It is indeed a jungle out there in the open ocean. Growth, for the few that live, is rapid. Most larval forms of game and food fishes bear little or no resemblance initially to adults, often very different in shape and color, recognizable only to experts. They may resemble elaborate insects as much as fish.

As they grow into small juveniles, often characterized by oversized eyes, the babies begin to gradually take on more of the characteristics of larger, older fish. Few anglers ever get the chance for a close-up and personal look at game fish not much longer than a cherry tomato, so in this ongoing gallery of “microscopic monsters,” we’ll offer a rare look at a mini version of species most of us see as only adult fish.

This toothy little monster has a lot of changing to do in a brief period to look like what it is. That’s because it’s a tuna, though at about one third of an inch, it’s details might be lost to the naked eye, including those tiny jaws lined with teeth. How un-tuna-like!

Not enough detail can be discerned to determine the species, so we can only speculate; it might be a yellowfin or a little tunny (false albacore) or another tuna species. Survival is not in the odds for this tiny predator, but should it beat those odds, it will grow quickly, soon into a more tuna-like juvenile.

The post Microscopic Monsters of the Ocean: Tuna appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

The scene is primordial to its core. Cool ocean currents scour ancient rocky shores draped with kelp. Steep mountains ­studded with pines sprouting ferns shrouded in mist. Suddenly, the water erupts with showers of candlefish. From the depths, often within yards of shore, arise behemoth humpback whales, bursting upward to engulf terrified mouthfuls of the tiny fish.

This is Southeast Alaska in late summer. These waters course from the Pacific through an incalculable number of islands, inlets, fjords and channels, a movable feast in the Alexander Archipelago—a mind-boggling biomass of candlefish known to the indigenous Chinook nation as eulacheon. 

Easy pickings attract more than humpbacks. It is here that silver salmon mass to feed and fatten in anticipation of the fall migration, which will take them up the coastal rivers and tributaries where they had hatched to complete a primeval, generational pilgrimage of reproduction and complete their life cycle. 

Late summer in this temperate rainforest is a time of ­plenty, and the best sport fishing left for silvers—also known as ­coho salmon—that can grow to weights of more than 20 pounds. Though silvers don’t grow as large as king salmon, they prove more plentiful this time of year and, unlike kings, stage rambunctious aerial displays that delight anglers. 

My brother, Joe Hendricks, and I had a chance to sample Southeast Alaska’s great late-season silver salmon fishing last August with Capt. Colin McCrossin, who guides out of the remote yet comfortable Waterfall Resort on Prince of Wales Island, about a 40-minute flight by float plane from Ketchikan. McCrossin has fished these waters for 25 years and knows each nook, cranny and islet of the jagged, barnacle-­encrusted shores along which the silvers feed. 

Best Season in Years

“This season has been the best coho fishing in eight years,” says the soft-spoken McCrossin, who converses little yet produces big results. “The best time of year for silver salmon in these waters is from mid-July to late August.” 

McCrossin skippers one of the 27 boats in the fleet at Waterfall, each a 26-foot North River Sounder powered by twin Mercury outboards and a 25 hp auxiliary outboard for the slow-trolling technique known as “mooching.” 

The boats also feature Furuno marine electronics, including sonar, which are critical to finding schools of fish. “Metering bait schools is key to catching fish,” McCrossin says. Salmon don’t stray far from the dinner table. 

Whale of a Clue

Yet there are other clues that can lead to silvers, including the presence of those humpback whales that often gather to engage in “bubble netting.” This activity is when humpbacks release air in a circular pattern underwater, condensing schools of candlefish and forcing them to the surface so that the whales can ascend from below to gulp massive mouthfuls of fish and water. The whales squeeze the water out through their bristlelike baleen, leaving only the candlefish to swallow. Such remarkable behavior is a common sight in the late season and a strong indicator that silver salmon are in the vicinity.

Another key indicator is the presence of rhinoceros auklets, deep-diving seabirds with a horn on their orange bills. This ­medium-size bird can swim like a penguin underwater to chase, catch and eat small fish. If you find them paddling on the surface and diving down, it’s sure sign of candlefish and the salmon that follow them. 

Depth Precision

The best midwater depths for silvers range anywhere from 60 to 100 feet, but occasionally as deep as 200 feet, McCrossin says. “The sonar will tell you where the life is, and that is where you want to put your baits.” The Furuno indicated a surface-­water temperature of 60 degrees during our visit, and the silvers seemed to be hanging deep—about 120 feet down.

Line-counter levelwind reels, such as the Shimano Tekota-A 500LC, serve a critical role, allowing anglers to determine how much line to send down to place the bait in the strike zone. McCrossin instructs the four anglers aboard his boat on how much is needed, sometimes directing them to stagger the depths to cover a broader cross section of the water column.

Rods are 8 feet long and feature specialized slow-taper, parabolic actions that help prevent lost fish when silvers jump and shake their heads during the fight. Maxima 30-pound-test monofilament line also has a shock-absorbing quality that helps minimize lost fish. 

Mooching Magic

Like other guides at Waterfall, McCrossin favors mooching for salmon. The terminal rig includes a 4-ounce banana sinker tied to the main line with a 4-foot lead of 30-pound monofilament and two octopus hooks, one snelled about 4 inches in front of the last one. A medium-size frozen herring needs to have its head cut off at a transverse angle. With entrails removed, the forward hook then pins through the gut cavity and out the back, with a trailing hook pinned crosswise through the back just forward of the tail.

This bait is called a cut-plug herring, and the rigging allows it to spin in the water with the current as the boat moves or the angler gently lifts and drops the rod tip. The slowly spinning bait entices ­salmon to strike. But keeping it properly spinning depends on your speed, the current, and the angler’s skill in lifting and lowering the bait. 

Many of the bites come as the bait is descending, McCrossin says. So, anglers need to stay in touch by lowering the rod fairly slowly and being sensitive to taps as it sinks back down. This also helps prevent the leader from tangling with the sinker or main line.

Furious Action

When you hook a fish, keep the line tight and the rod fairly level. While a fair number of silvers shake the hook as they leap, keeping the rod low helps prevent this. Guides in this part of Alaska don’t net silver salmon, instead using a club with a spike. They first bonk the fish in the head with the club, then spike it in the head, lift it aboard, and place it in an ice-filled cooler to keep the meat in pristine condition. Many prefer the milder red-orange fillets of silver salmon over king salmon. 

Once McCrossin finds a concentration of silver salmon, the action can turn fast and furious with double, triple or quadruple hookups—and silver salmon leaping everywhere while anglers dance around the cockpit to avoid tangling lines. When that occurs, limits (six silver salmon ­daily) can come quickly and sometimes early in the day, allowing anglers to head off in pursuit of other quarry, such as Pacific halibut or lingcod, or head back to the Waterfall Resort’s Lagoon Saloon to exchange stories and show off photos proving their silver mettle. 

Read Next: Fishing for Salmon and Halibut in Remote Alaska

Travel and Accommodations

Ketchikan, Alaska, serves as the jumping-off point for angling destinations such as Waterfall Resort, which we called home during our stay on Prince of Wales Island. Alaska Airlines offers some of the most frequent service to Ketchikan, with connections through Seattle.

Established in 1980 and accessible only by boat or float plane, the remote Waterfall Resort stands on the 52-acre grounds of the historic Waterfall Cannery, surrounded by the natural beauty of the Tongass National Forest. The clapboard buildings and cabins that once housed cannery crew have been carefully renovated and modernized to host anglers from around the world.

The resort includes the original general store to buy snacks and drinks, a family-style dining room with a delicious buffet, the Lagoon Saloon, accommodations for 92 guests, crew quarters, fish-processing facilities, a marina, and 27 custom-built 26-foot North River aluminum pilothouse boats. Each boat has twin Mercury outboards, heated cabins, suspension seats for four anglers and an enclosed head compartment. Boats depart for fishing at 6:30 a.m., return at 4:30 p.m., and are piloted by expert guides who are also US Coast Guard-licensed captains.

Waterfall offers a wide range of seasonal packages that cover transportation to and from the resort (including the float plane from Ketchikan), meals, fishing (including boat, tackle and guide), Alaska fishing licenses, fish cleaning and packaging, rain suits and rubber boots for fishing, and tips. Coho special packages (August 7-24, 2023) range from $4,360 per person (three days, two nights) to $8,210 per person (five days, four nights). To learn more about what’s available and what to take on your trip, visit waterfallresort.com. 

The post Silver Salmon Fishing in Southeast Alaska appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

Is It Legal to Catch Goliath Grouper Around Florida?

That’s something of a loaded question, since catching goliath grouper (Epinephelus itajara) is legal. As long as you don’t take it out of the water and assuming you release it quickly. Keeping one is not legal. Well, not generally — but it can be.

A Quick Goliath Grouper History

Backstory: In the latter part of the last century, goliaths (then widely known as jewfish), were harvested mercilessly around Florida (as elsewhere in their range south to Brazil). Doing so was all too easy. They’re slow moving and easy targets for spear fishers, but also quick to gobble up a large bait with a hook embedded in it, to be winched up on very heavy gear by anglers, sport and commercial alike. But these gentle giants grow slowly and have a low reproductive rate.

By the 1980s, it was clear that goliath stocks had collapsed and were in imminent danger of being beyond recovery. In 1990, the species was placed on the Endangered Species List and given full protection by federal and state law. (In fact, most goliaths inhabit state waters since they typically live near shore in water no more than 150 feet or so.) That meant no harvest of any kind at any time for any size goliath.

As expected, the species began a comeback. Within a few years, they had begun showing up around offshore structure just off the coast and even around bridges in some deeper inlets where they’d been absent. By 2006, goliaths seemed to be everywhere around the state, wherever suitable habitat could be found. Some anglers considered them a nuisance; goliaths weren’t shy about grabbing hooked fish. (With usual coastal tackle, the idea of stopping one was laughable.)

Goliath Grouper Recovered in Florida

At the same time, an industry had developed among nearshore guides who specialized, at least in part, in taking out visitors to tussle with grouper the size of a small automobile. Using appropriately heavy tackle and with good boat-handling tactics, anglers could raise goliaths and bring them boatside, where photos of such behemoths made for great social-media popularity.

Two-thousand and six is mentioned since that was the year that scientists deemed the species recovered, thus ending its endangered species listing. Protections, however, remained in place. Those protections proved to be a good thing in 2010. That winter, a deadly cold snap settled over the state, devastating cold-susceptible marine life — which included juvenile goliaths. The species relies on mangrove estuaries to grow; the fish generally leave inshore estuaries for deeper water at a few pounds. Temperatures in these shallow-water estuaries fell enough to essentially wipe out juvenile goliaths, wiping out several year classes.

Florida’s Goliath Grouper Season

Despite that setback, after some years, goliath stocks recovered. And anglers continued to insist the time had come to once again allow the harvest of goliath grouper, at least on some basis. Calls to do just that built into something of a clamor and, in 2022, the state relented and agreed to open a very limited, heavily restricted sport fishery for goliaths.

If you’re intent on keeping a goliath grouper, you’ll first have to apply for a harvest permit tag. Then you’ll have to be lucky — that is, one of the 200 lucky winners in a random-draw lottery for one of those 200 tags allowing the retention of a single fish. (That’s with hook-and-line only — spearfishers need not apply.)

Next you’ll have to fish when and where allowed for goliath harvest. The open season is March through May in 2023. (At this point, assuming the state Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission allows for a 2024 season, you can apply in the fall of 2023.) As for the where, most state waters are open, except Martin County (Stuart) south to include the Keys (Atlantic side), as well as the St. Lucie River and Dry Tortugas National Park.

Report Your Goliath Harvest to the State

Once you hook your goliath, you’d better have a good tape measure handy. The slot limit for goliaths is 24 to 36 inches. Forget those 400-pound mamas (though you might have trouble getting through them to smaller fish, at times). You’re looking at a fish of 10 to 30 pounds, give or take.

And once you’ve filled out your tag, you’ll have one last step: to report data as requested by the state and submit a fin clip for genetic analysis.

A primary reason for the limited harvest of slot-limit grouper off central and southeast Florida’s Atlantic coast is, in part, governed by economics. Goliaths have become worth big bucks to divers who flock here for face time with these gentle giants, and they pay well for the privilege. Taking a selfie near a fish large enough to dwarf oneself is a rare and long-remembered moment.

Any angler with a tag won’t need to worry about disrupting spawning aggregations. That occurs in late July through September. And occur it does: The Florida coast in the Palm Beach County area, is something of an epicenter where dozens and dozens of giants to 500 pounds and more gather around wrecks and reefs in 100 to 150 feet. You wouldn’t have seen that in the 1970s or 1980s; these major meet-ups reflect the stock-rebuilding success story of Florida’s goliath grouper, thanks to state and federal laws that have protected these slow-growing giants, so vulnerable to hooks and spears, since 1990.

The post Fish Facts: Can You Catch Goliath Grouper Legally? appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

To be successful landing fish around structure, you must stack the deck in your favor. It’s not so much about fighting a fish to avert a break-off as it is understanding how gamefish interact with structure, and tailoring your approach and angling tactics accordingly. You still have to win the fight, of course—but why make it harder on yourself? 

Below are five gamefish that are pure hell around structure. The following tactics apply to them and other species with similar fighting characteristics. 

Snook

If possible, remain mobile when targeting snook around docks and bridges because anchoring limits your ability to quickly counter their moves. Trolling swimming plugs is deadly for pulling big snook out from under bridges and through inlets. But if you stop the boat upon hooking up, a big snook will take you to school, so maintain trolling speed until the fish is muscled away from pilings, groins, boulders and boat traffic. Once out in open water, slow or stop the boat and ­enjoy the fight.

When trolling along ­bridges, you generally find snook staged around up-­current pilings. Turn the boat away from the bridge and into the current while advancing the throttle(s) as soon as you hook up. When trolling down-current sides, use the tide moving in sync with the boat to pull fish away from a bridge.

When pitching jigs or live baits near bridge spans, keep the boat lined up with the target area. Once hooked up, maneuver the boat to maintain a straight pull on a fish while easing into open water. Any deviation, and a fish can angle across a piling or into a groin.

A maneuver applicable in the backcountry and along dock-studded seawalls involves getting between a big snook and structure after hooking up. In the mangroves, a similar scenario often presents itself during low tides, with minimal water for a big fish to get underneath them. Use the pull from your rod to force the fish to run in the opposite direction and away from obstacles. I once scored a 30-pound snook on 8-pound spin tackle this way.

Grouper

Grouper will make you look foolish in a hurry. The king of the hole-ups, grouper are tough to get an angle on. So, probe the down-current sides when drifting above structure. Upon hooking a big one, keep it off balance and out of its lair by easing the boat down-current. Procrastination costs fish.

The magic distance when anchoring is close enough for any chum or other fishing activity to lure grouper from structure yet provide enough real estate to prevent a hooked one from returning to it.

If rocked up by a grouper, free-spool and strip off line. The objective: Fool the fish into thinking it’s free. Allow 10 or so minutes, rapidly come tight, and resume the fight. If still holed up, try longer wait cycles. Such snags are usually temporary sanctuaries; sooner or later, a grouper will bolt for its main home.

Off the Dry Tortugas with Daniel Delph, I once waited out a big black grouper hooked on 20-pound-class spin ­tackle. It rocked me up four separate times over a 90-minute span. I finally stuck the rod in a holder to help Delph land a fish, and my grouper finally succumbed to the drifting boat. It weighed 55 pounds!

Strumming the fishing line periodically also works, particularly when you’re using braid. Simply wind tight and strum the line as if it were a guitar. The vibrations sometime annoy the fish into making a run for it. If all else fails, maneuver the boat around the structure and pressure the fish from different angles. With some luck, you’ll hit it just right and score.

Amberjack

A big amberjack will power back into or across a wreck without an angler getting a single crank on it—they are that strong. On anchor, AJs will charge for deeper water and part the fishing line on the reef. Your best bet when targeting sizable jacks is avoiding this often-insurmountable predicament.

Amberjack generally stack above a wreck. Back up into the current and over the structure until the sonar marks fish. Stem the current and drop a bait. Upon hooking up, the boat operator must drive away from the wreck with a degree of haste in the direction that the current or tide is flowing. Pull the amberjack into open water, and the odds are now stacked in your favor.

Over shallower wrecks, amberjack can be teased to the surface with large, frisky live baits and by swishing a large hookless teaser. When they’re hot, lead them off the wreck and into open water. Present a bait or lure, hang on, and ­enjoy the fight.

When hooked, a big amberjack will charge for deep water. Secure a poly ball to the end of your anchor rode. Immediately dump the anchor line and motor on top of the fish as quickly as possible. As long as the fishing line remains relatively straight up and down, you can follow the fish off the reef and out into open water without the threat of the line chafing on the bottom.

Wreck Permit

You thought the flats were the only place to target permit? Big permit love racing across wrecks, navigational aids, ­crab floats and even under other boats. In open water, they’ll rub their mouths on bottom to rid a hook.

Based on the tidal stage, permit make large circles around a wreck or hunt along its down-current sides. Anchoring requires a bit of geometry. For example, Harry Vernon III and I fished for permit at a shallow Bahamas Bank wreck. The tide was ripping. Rather than anchor down-current and cast back up and beyond the fish, which were tight on the wreck, I anchored 50 feet off to its side and marginally down-current of it. 

My reasoning: Instead of hooking a permit directly behind us and tight on the wreck, where it could ­easily fray the line, I’d first pressure it away from the side of the obstruction. Once clear, I’d count on the strong tide to help sweep the fish well down-current of the wreck. The tactic worked ­beautifully, and we released eight permit in short order. 

In open water and if mobile, tuck in behind a hooked permit to avoid ­navigational aids or crab floats. If a fish successfully reaches one, go into free-spool. Try repositioning the boat to reacquire a straight line on the fish. If that’s not possible, ease up to the obstacle and try unfurling the line around it. It’s surprisingly effective.

Tarpon

When it appears a tarpon will reach a dock, marina or bridge span, go into free-spool. At this stage, it’s the only shot at saving the fish.

Similar to fighting a permit, snook or any other large fish in this situation, try following the line around any obstacles. Get straight to the fish before coming tight. Sometimes it’s as easy as clearing one piling; other times it’s a lot more challenging, especially with a larger boat. Remember there will be times you just can’t escape the web weaved by the tarpon, and a break-off is necessary.

Again, the best prevention is to avoid getting into these situations in the first place. For instance, when hooking a tarpon around a pass or inlet, keep right on top of the fish. That’s because it could run deep off the shelf and fray the line if you remain shallow. You’ll also be more in control, allowing you to steer around other boats, docks, pilings, navigational aids and buoys.

At anchor and if the fish is large, toss a float and remain tight to it. The farther one gets, the more stress on the line and threats it might encounter. 

In tight confines such as mangrove-lined shores, marinas or seawalls, maneuver the boat between these threats and the fish. Once again, the pressure should force a fish in the opposite direction of the boat and away from trouble. 

The post Five Gamefish That Are Tough to Fight Around Structure appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.

Limited-time offer: Subscribe and save with our Labor Day sale! One-year subscriptions to Boating, Cruising World, Marlin, Sailing World, Salt Water Sportsman, and Yachting available for $10 each through Monday, September 4.

While fishing a small jig in the Mediterranean, UK angler and journalist (a regular contributor to Marlin magazine) Dave Lewis brought up a beautiful prize. He took a photo of this particularly colorful little fish before he tossed it back.

“I’ve actually caught quite a few of these over rough terrain in 50 to 300 feet of water in several regions of the Med,” he says, “including off Morocco, Malta and Gibraltar.” Lewis suspects it’s some sort of grouper, but wants to know for certain.

Well, Dave, you’re right on. You caught a comber, Serranus cabrilla. While it is a grouper by virtue of its inclusion in that family — Serranidae — more specifically, the genus Serranus are Atlantic dwarf sea basses. This lovely sea bass ranges up and down the eastern Atlantic, from the U.K. to South Africa, including the Mediterranean, Black and Red seas. Other closely related sea basses are found off the North American Atlantic and Pacific coasts.

Combers aren’t likely to be caught more than a few pounds at best, but that’s big enough to be the world record: To date, no angler has submitted the species to the IGFA for the all-tackle record. (The British record stands at 1 pound, 13 ounces, caught off Cornwall in 1977.) Apparently the comber ranges from fairly shallow coastal waters to several hundred feet. As expected, it’s a tasty little thing and has some local importance commercially.

Guessing a fish might be a grouper isn’t a bad idea, since the odds are favorable: There are about 450 species of the grouper family, Serranidae. There are few places in the world’s warm marine waters where grouper aren’t found, so the comber is in good company.

NEXT READ: Check out more interesting Fish Facts about a host of different fish species.

The post Fish Facts: Mystery from the Mediterranean appeared first on Salt Water Sportsman.