First Light Story by John Burns
FlyTide30A/Orvis Sandestin
I
’m thankful for many things in life, but every minute spent fly fishing the emerald green waters of the Gulf of Mexico is particularly high on my list. I have personally been fishing these waters since I discovered Grayton Beach in the late seventies. Hippies, sun bowls, and an undiscovered Eden along the coast was just a short drive from my home in New Orleans. Brown water, intertidal marsh, mosquitos, and the Vieux Carre were a stark contrast to the new world I would someday call home. Fly fishing in saltwater has also been with me since those early times in Grayton Beach. My brother introduced me to the sport one day when he walked in with two fly rod kits on cardboard, wrapped in cellophane, with a price sticker attached from Kmart. A simple beginning, but one that would launch me into a place that would become a very important part of my life. Addiction yes, but not because of any stimulus it delivered. It was the relaxing art of the cast that pulled me in and kept me connected. Hooking and landing big fish on a fly line also helped, but the tranquil effects of casting a fly rod in saltwater environments had me for life. Leaving the dock at First Light, with a Leon Russell tune in my head, always makes my day. The anticipation of summer fly fishing trips grow bigger with time. Moments on the water, and the number of casts delivered to hunting fish, become more valuable each and every year. It’s not just the value – it’s also the cost. The cost increases sequentially, not just because of the growing annual price of fuel, boats, and equipment, but because you realize there’s a finite number of times you will ever be on the water. Winters get longer while I wait for the winds to turn from the south and the surface water temperature in the Gulf to creep above 74 degrees. It’s then that you can get reunited with those semitropical predatory fish that come rolling by our part of the world and hope that this season is the one that never ends. It typically starts at First Light when the glow of the sun signals the start of the engine on the boat, and we race to and out of the Destin or Panama City Pass to search for cobia, tarpon, red fish, jacks, tuna, or other seasonal pelagic species that may be deceived by a group of feathers, flash, and thread wrapped tightly around a hook. If it’s a fish - it can be tricked to eat a fabricated fly. That’s what most of us believe and preach to others who will listen and ultimately understand. We endeavor to chase big marine fish with unique fly patterns and avoid live bait. Even the mention of live bait with some fly fishers can border sacrilege.
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