Don't let Al White touch your line.
He's the kiss of death. Bad luck. A hex.
He's a banana on a flats skiff.
Everything Midas touched may have turned to gold. Every time White touches a fishing line, it breaks.
Twice the other day, White went to land fish for me. When he grabbed the leader to land a small snook I'd hooked, it broke. I not only lost the snook, but also a $5.95 popping bug. I lost a Super Hair Clouser that I had tied when White tried to land a nice trout I'd hooked.
But I didn't care. White, Pete Greenan and myself were just having fun. We caught a few fish while fly fishing in Gasparilla Sound, Bull Bay and Whidden Creek and we laughed all day.
When this trio gets together, it's the Three Stooges and Keystone Cops all at once. It's machine-gun jokes from start to finish.
White likes to sing, too. And he's not too bad, either. Greenan, meanwhile, can't carry a note.
Both can fish. Both can fling fly lines a country mile.
White and Greenan are professional saltwater fishing guides. When they get a day off, they go fishing.
Here's something you don't know about this gruesome twosome: They love to fly fish in The Everglades for panfish. Both have taken species of every size and shape in salt water, but they get a kick of of diminutive exotics like oscar and Mayan cichlid. On a trip last January, White anchored his kayak within casting distance of a fallen tree and caught 22 oscar in 22 casts.
How's that for efficiency.
"They fight like crazy," said White. "They're something else on a fly rod.
"I can't wait to go again."
We will. In December.
I've taken White to The 'Glades twice and we caught so many fish that we don't know how many landed. Greenan joined in last January. Both times, it was non-stop action.
I'll let you know how we do next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment