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Well the New calendar and the increasing phone call can only
mean one thing Tarpon season must be just around the corner. Seams like just yesterday I was
complaining to Linda about how tired I was and that I didn't care If I ever saw another Tarpon.
But the familiar voices on the other end of the phone line bring back memories of great friends
and wonderful fishing trips to the pass.
A few years back I began fishing a young couple from Tampa. Their first trip started off very
iffy arriving at the guide docks at 1am, a late summer squall was coming in off the gulf and the
lighting was coming down nearly as hard as the rain. We huddled under the bimini of the Lil Nog
and discussed our options.
After discovering they were booth roofers and had saved for well over a year to afford this trip
I felt I had to at least give it a try. My past experiences in the same line of work told me
they had worked very hard for this night. We left the dock with the understanding that if it
didn't let up we would return to the dock and call it a boat
ride.
As we rounded the big dock a bolt of lighting knocked out the lights on the island. With no other
boats in the pass it was a lonely and ominous place to be. The back up generators at the oil
terminal finely kicked on and we eased up under the glow of boom lights. We kept a watch full eye
on the storms offshore as I went through Tarpon 101, with the rain letting up eased into the
pass and began to fish.
As we drifted waiting for our first bite the normal conversation of people getting to know each
other began , everything went fine until Joann began to explain to me how she had spent the
previous night watching scary movies until the early mooning hours to some how prepare her for
our late night fishing trip.
Now there are a couple of conversations I won't allow on my boat any negative comments about
John Wayne, and open discussions regarding Dr. Phibes movies staring Vincent Price, at 2am on
a stormy dark night in a deserted Boca Grande Pass . Joanne seamed to think it funny that her
captain was spooked by the idea of zombies and wouldn't it be cool if they did exist and
what would I do to save them if they started creeping over the side of the boat. I explained
that the Coast Guard exam I took had no questions regarding that particular situation, but for
her own knowledge that should it occur I would act accordingly and put three zip codes between
me, her, the boat, and the zombies end of discussion. To my great relief John got a bite and
even though he only brought up a crushed crab I was in hopes the action would start and Joanne
would forget the zombies.
I bent over to get John a fresh bait and that's when it happened a glass shattering scream a
clasp of thunder and the words from every horror movie made HELP HELP HES GOT ME !!!!!! with
those words trying to sink in I felt the long bony zombie fingers stab at my ribs, a second
scream erupted into the darkness, this time followed by words I can't print here. Just prior to
putting the Nog into warp speed and going in search of that 3rd zip coed I knew I had to risk
one look at that zombies hand. Mere words can't explain the relief at seeing the butt end of
Johns fishing rod banging into my ribs as he tried to lay it on the deck.
I was even more relived to see the zombie that had Joanne was about five feet long and had silver
scales and not rotting skin. After a short fight and a few pictures Joanne's first fish was
released. We took a break and let blood pressures and heart rates return to normal. That's when
it became obvious I owed Joann an apology for my explaintifs, she graciously let me off the hook
and promised to say FISH ON not HES GOT ME on all future hook ups.
Read Past Articles By Captain Steve
"BOAT LAUNCH BLUES"
"A GRANDFATHER GETS HOOKED"
"TARPON, A TRAGETY IN TEXAS"
"TARPON UPDATE"
"Help, He's Got Me"
E-mail Captain Steve Futch
Information and Reservations.
PHONE 941-697-2249.
P.O. Box 1166 Boca Grande, FL 33921
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